Run By: Ryudori (3xp)

Players: Philokrates

Synopsis: Philokrates finally gets to kill the living bajeebus out of something.

 

 

 

The city of the Gemborn has changed little since Philokrates last arrived, though perhaps his blazing rage obscures that factoid just a tad. The gemlord no longer guards the gates, discarded by its creator now that its purpose has been expended, so Philokrates need kill his way through nothing to reach the overlook of the city's entrance. Lylani remains in its position, flowing out with light all across the cavern as usual, and Morodoz continues pumping his smog into the sky.

Philokrates does not stride on fanciful stone feet - he wears reliable crystal and wooden construction, relying on the Graceful Crane Stance to make up for any unevenness in the terrain. He moves without pause for the altar of his foeman.

Philokrates gestures, and exhales a plume of light. It congeals in his hand - not in to a bow, but in to a strange and baroque weapon of curls and spirals, an arc projector drawn forth from ancestral memory. He clasps it with instinctive killing art, ready to gun down his foe.

Nothing stands to bar his way, but the fat Gurvald still slumbers in his massive castle; Philokrates' bursting in snorts him awake, the dragon flailing about a bit in curiousity as it senses someone nearby. >WHO IS IT?!< Gurvald rumbles.

Philokrates strides in and immediately moves to walk past Gurvald without delay. "I am Philokrates," he declares curtly. His presence implies immense dangerousness, as does the surreal weapon that hisses in his hand. "I must pass through your cellar. Many apologies."

>Who?< The dragon asks, swinging down to sniff at Philokrates. >I remember your scent...you're the one who called me a liar!< The fat thing flails a chubby arm at him. >Fine! Go! Go on!< It rolls back over. >Don't wake me again, little thing, or the consequences will be far more dire!<

Philokrates has already proceeded along - he only barely hears the last bit of Gurvald's petulant burbling as he shoves past the dragon's gemborn servants, shoving his way in to the road below. His skin begins to gleam, shining like an iron kettle.

>I've been expecting you,< the metal dragon pulses.

Philokrates says, "I hope you have a reception planned."

>I'm poor with parties.< The dragon chuckles. >So what do you plan to do? Destroy me?<

Philokrates says, "Yes."

>How boring. No more little games, no more fun, just a straightforward fight, is it.<

Philokrates says, "My arrows, your claws. I will kill you."

>So you know where my heart is, do you? Figured out where my secret weak point is?<

Philokrates says, "I'll find it..."

>Of course you will, and then you'll sink your little arrow into it and kill me. But what if it's not in this room? What if it's in the air, or if it's guarded by the other four and you need to sink your arrows into innocent beings to kill me?<

>Or perhaps I've scattered my heart all over the mountain.<

Philokrates says, "Then I'll kill the mountain."

Philokrates racks his weapon, and blasts the altar, over and over and over, weapon pulsing like a lance.

>Alright, alright. You've made your point.< The dragon rumbles. >Either I face you or you blow up everything I've worked so hard to build, yes?<

Philokrates says, "Don't confuse it for revenge. I'll merely be thorough in my search, that's all."

>Mmmm. Do you really think you can survive killing your way through all the Gemborn in the mountain, all four of the dragons, and then challenge their very creator?<

Philokrates says, "Easily."

Philokrates says, "I have been places you cannot conceive, here in your sandbox. I touched infinity and made bargains with it."

>Fascinating. Very well then.< The door above seals, earth arching across it to trap Philokrates within. >I will have you play one last game before you go and kill everything, and it will be a simple one.< The altar shifts, melting onto the floor and coiling into the form of a metallic, eyeless, partially-gem dragon.

 >I will call it 'Survive',< the dragon/s state as something starts leaking into the room. >Morodoz's poison is not fatal in small doses. Let us see how long you can fight my diminished form while the poison leaks into your body.<

Philokrates lunges backwards, the very earth attempting to trip him up, but his impossible balance lets him be light even on wooden feet. His arc-projector blazes, hurling lightning at his foe with a blinding muzzle-flare.

The metallic dragon straightens, adopting an odd stance. Its claws flex briefly, and then it lashes forward, like flowing steel or a sword dancing in the moonlight, the only light in the room coming from Philokrates' bow reflected off it into a dazzling display as it dances for him.

(Judge) Ryudori rolls 17: [ -1- -1- 2 2 3 3 4 4 5 5 6 7 7 9 9 9 <10> ]

        Resulting in 7 successes.

Philokrates jukes lightly to the side, and then ducks in and low, sliding in to the creature's 'blind' spot as he pounds arc after arc of hot, violent light in to where the ribcage should be.

(Judge) Philokrates rolls 20 + 4 + 1: [ -1- -1- 2 2 2 3 3 4 4 4 5 5 5 6 6 6 7 8 8 8 8 9 9 9 <10> ]

        Resulting in 10 successes.

(Judge) Philokrates rolls 20 + 4 + 1: [ -1- -1- -1- -1- 2 2 2 2 4 4 5 5 5 6 6 7 7 8 8 8 9 9 9 <10> <10> ]

        Resulting in 12 successes.

(Judge) Philokrates rolls 20 + 4 + 1: [ -1- 2 2 2 2 3 3 4 5 5 6 6 6 6 7 7 7 7 8 8 8 8 9 9 <10> ]

        Resulting in 12 successes.

(Judge) Philokrates rolls 20 + 4 + 1: [ -1- -1- 2 2 2 3 3 3 4 4 4 5 6 7 7 7 7 8 8 8 8 9 <10> <10> <10> ]

        Resulting in 15 successes.

(Judge) Philokrates rolls 20 + 4 + 1: [ -1- 2 2 2 2 3 3 3 3 3 4 4 4 6 6 7 7 8 8 9 9 9 9 <10> <10> ]

        Resulting in 12 successes.

The metal dragon flares with light as each bolt sinks into its metallic skin, disippating and disappearing. The dragon rears back and roars, its teeth and claws shining with essence as it lunges for his body.

-= OOC =- Ryudori says, "Here's the plan - it's wasting seven actions with Principle of Motion. Each action consists of its Martial Arts excellency (6 motes), Meat of the Broken Flesh (1m)

-= OOC =- Ryudori says, "It burns 6x7 = 42 motes + 6x1 = 48 motes total."

-= OOC =- Philokrates says, "I will seven-shadow evade all of them for a total of 21 motes."

-= OOC =- Ryudori says, "It gets 5 more actions this turn, spending 5M on Meat of Broken Flesh for each attack, but nothing else."

Philokrates backpedals to the point that he feels his back kiss stone, and ducks low, feeling gravel and shrapenl scrape across his back. He dodges forward, moving directly behind the dragon, leaping over hindclaws and thrashing tail.

(Judge) Ryudori rolls 10: [ 4 4 5 5 5 6 8 9 <10> <10> ]

        Resulting in 6 successes.

(Judge) Ryudori rolls 10: [ -1- 2 2 2 2 3 5 5 5 8 ]

        Resulting in 1 successes.

(Judge) Ryudori rolls 10: [ 3 4 5 6 6 6 6 7 9 <10> ]

        Resulting in 4 successes.

(Judge) Ryudori rolls 10: [ -1- -1- 5 5 6 6 6 7 9 <10> ]

        Resulting in 4 successes.

(Judge) Ryudori rolls 10: [ -1- 2 3 5 5 7 7 7 7 <10> ]

        Resulting in 6 successes.

(Judge) Philokrates rolls 11: [ -1- 2 2 2 3 4 5 6 8 <10> <10> ]

        Resulting in 5 successes.

-= OOC =- Philokrates says, "I'll respond with Iron Skin Concentration."

-= OOC =- Philokrates says, "I beat his essence, so I take no damage."

Philokrates is clipped by the tail and is slapped clear across the room. His face leaves a print in the foamy stone, and he drops to a crouch, before whipping his rifle up. "The attacks of a liar are meaningless to me!" he roars. "Die amidst your perfidy!"

ZAKKA ZAKKA ZAKKA

Philokrates 's weapon roars, as does the dragon, dancing amidst lightning and thunder.

(Judge) Philokrates rolls 10: [ 2 2 8 8 8 9 9 9 <10> <10> ]

        Resulting in 10 successes.

Philokrates exhales, gazing down the gunsight at his foe, the orbiting components of his weapon shuddering in time to his heartbeat to cancel out the vibration. He watches his opponent gather his power - where does he store it? Where does it surge from?

(Judge) Philokrates rolls Perception + Investigation + 1: [ 3 7 7 8 9 ]

        Resulting in 4 successes.

-= OOC =- Philokrates says, "4 succeses for dice, 2 for excellency, 5 for Temperance."

The dragon keeps bending over near the center of his body.

Philokrates takes aim to keel the dragon over for good.

(Judge) Philokrates rolls 25: [ -1- -1- -1- 2 2 2 3 3 3 4 4 4 4 5 5 5 6 6 6 7 7 9 <10> <10> <10> ]

        Resulting in 9 successes.

(Judge) Philokrates rolls 25: [ -1- -1- 2 3 3 4 4 4 4 4 5 5 5 5 6 6 6 7 7 8 8 8 9 9 9 ]

        Resulting in 8 successes.

(Judge) Philokrates rolls 25: [ -1- -1- 2 2 3 4 4 4 4 4 5 5 5 5 5 6 6 6 6 7 7 7 8 8 <10> ]

        Resulting in 7 successes.

(Judge) Philokrates rolls 25: [ -1- 2 2 2 2 2 3 3 4 4 5 5 5 5 6 7 7 7 8 8 9 9 9 <10> <10> ]

        Resulting in 12 successes.

(Judge) Philokrates rolls 25: [ -1- -1- 2 3 3 3 3 4 4 5 5 6 6 7 7 8 8 8 8 8 9 9 9 <10> <10> ]

        Resulting in 14 successes.

Philokrates says, "Do you surrender?"

The dragon spits. >And what will you do if I do?<

Philokrates says, "Kill you."

Philokrates racks his weapon. It vents hot essence, luminous as his anima. It sprouts long, majestic cooling vanes, wafting about him like feathers, steaming the air.

>Then I choose to die with pride.< It hisses.

Philokrates says, "To your credit."

The weapon screams like a dying cat.

The dragon crumbles into dust, leaving a huge, glittering gem the size of a fist on the ground.

Philokrates kneels down, and scoops up the gem, his anima sizzling and sparking, leaving bleached white marks on his surroundings. He gazes up at the ceiling, lifts his weapon, and fires.

The steaming, gold-reeking demigod strides bitterly from the ruin of Gurvald's basement, out the front door. "You're free," he says tersely. "Live well and honestly."

Gurvald responds with an enormous snore.

Philokrates strides out to the exit, before he risk polluting any of his memories of this place by confronting one of the friends he made here with an impulsive murder over a petty lie.

None of the dragons seem any the wiser. They continue about their usual business, Lylani in the sky, Morodoz in the clouds, Zygrydo in the river, Gurvald snoring in his castle, completely unaware of the business below.

Philokrates leaves them behind, and strides back to Barker, heart in hand.