The fall of Gettys.

 

Part I

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A floating, bald head says, "WELCOME TO YOUR DOOM!"

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 Carmina Short, slender, blond half-elf in wizard attire. 38s 4h

 Karelin Tattooed Korite warrior. Tall, dark and scarred. 2s 17m

 Chandrakanta Dredlocked Veyshanti Averite with ink and blades. 5m 4h

 Arngrim An impossibly colossal man. Did we mention he's huge? 7m 57m

 Darshan Mechagodzilla 2s 3m

 Kylie Short blonde waif, peppy and ditzy. 3m 1h

 Whirlpool 0s 1h

 Roland 6'3" charismatic man with auburn curls and hazel eyes 41s 1h

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Timestop dropped by Whirlpool at Sat Sep 12 05:07:04 2009(#781I)

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Out <O>  

"Its not always about the value of something, its about the benefit to all if something like that ceases to exist, Arngrim." Chandra shakes her head slightly, "Its like when Darshan destroyed the key to that war golem. And from what Darshan has said, there is darkness looming Rune, it is not a time to send things into the hands of Rune." She exhausts a breath.  

"Yes, the Planar Society, the demon hordes there, and the council that came after and tried us lawfully... All this bad stuff. I wouldn't trust Rune to handle anything delicate. It might be too tempting." Kylie concurs and then lapses back into silence, fidgeting even more with her holsters.

"Yada, yada, yada. Sounds like self righteous talk to me." says Arngrim bluntly to Chandra, "Who decides the benefit for all? You? I think gold is a benefit for all.. But anyway, if the consesus is to smash it then I'm not going to stop you. Besides.." The hulking mercenary wrinkles his nose, "Might be cursed."

Karelin growls. "Just like the Hammer of He Who Hungers." Nostrils bell. "Let's get the thing first."

Roland says, "I wouldn't be so quick to look for profit in this. Kiranix had a nasty habit of shaping items to bend others to his will...His ring was one such device, and I suspect anything powerful enough to hold sway over such a beast likely has similiar ensarements.""

"There's darkness looming everywhere, these days. We know that it is in a vault in Gettys. But we do warn you to be careful. Some of you have been inside before and have a good idea of what to expect. I hope that you'll put that wisdom to good use. Now, when the attack begins, we will have a limited amount of time to teleport you into the walls of Gettys. You will need to discern your own route into the fortress itself, I am afraid. We can not get you actually *inside* the central keep. Just within the walls." He grimaces, shaking his head here.

 

 "There is a lot to go over, still," he continues. "the dragon will likely be busy for a time, but if it senses any threat to its masters or the scepter, it may act in an unpredictable fashion." Which is a polite way to say 'It might come roaring in to kill you'. "We'll be doing our best to ensure that it is distracted." Which likely means a lot of lives sacrificed, but he's leaving that unsaid.

 

 "Now, are there any other questions? Oh, and by the way, if you can decaptiate their leadership while you're at it within those fortress walls, don't hesitate."

"Probably worth alot of gold also." adds Arngrim, unperturbed, to Karelin, "Just sitting there unused even.." He just waves a hand absently at Rolands comment though, "Destroy the thing if you see fit. I care not. Tools are to be used. If none are willing to use it, it is of no value."

Karelin shows teeth. "Yes. Their leadership looks much better headless." He nods . "Understood." He glances at Arngrim, "Focus on the task at hand."

"Smashing's a better alternative," Darshan ambles in, a package of some sort over his shoulder. The sith'makar looks tired, and wears his old armor, the surface blackened and dark. Like someone'd set it afire. He offers a tired grin to the gunslinger, and finds a place to lean, settle, or drop. "Evening."

"Alright. Let's get going," Carmina says. "I need to unload some maps. They are flammable." She seems rather impatient to get going.

"I find myself oddly agreement with these fellow Alexandrian irregulars," adds the Islander, a grin threatening to appear on his face. He pats his two handed sword. "If they should decide to destroy this evil, cursed artifact of evil, I will not complain. In fact, I find myself honored to be in the company of such esteemed heroes." A nod follows. "I will be going with you, of course," he adds, "one more blade can not hurt. I am Agosa of the Jade Islands and I have no small experience in slaying terribly large monstrosities that require a keen blade. I am ready." He's not just an Islander, no. Definitely a highborn, and he has that *presence*. He seems eager to wreak havock on the enemy.

 

 THOOM.

 

 THOOM.

 

 Cannon fire starts outside, so yeah, it looks like its time to get going..

Roland says, "One last question since you've researched these shields...Do you think they would prevent us from teleporting out while they last?"

"We will find a way in. Just get us there." Chandra isn't going to get involved deeper in this debate about the merits of destroying the item. Her brow raised when someone else is coming along, "We get help?" Her jaw may have just hit the floor, good thing the canon fire hides the sound.

Indeed. A -highborn- islander no less. Arngrim seems mildly displeased that yet another dissenting voice has arisen against his suggestion of gaining 'PHAT LEWT' with this magical scepter and his dreams of perhaps using it as a bargaining chip for the purposes of vast amounts of gold go up in a puff of somke. *poof*. "So be it." is all he says. "The majority of spoken. As I already said, it's of no consequenec if none are willing and I'm certainly not going to haul it off. Might be cursed. Might make me lose my apetite.."

Karelin grins, and turns. "Let's go. Time to learn who we are." He exhales, and murmurs a little prayer to Kor: " Stand your ground, this is what we are fighting for, our spirit and laws and ways, cry havok and let slip the dogs of war, for heavens or hells we shall not wait."

Kylie looks more than flattered at the pretty words that the islander is placating the group with, though she infers his words more directly to her than anything else. Both of her hands rather embarrassedly raise to her blushing cheeks, finding herself in the clutches of girlish fluster. "Heehee..." She abruptly coughs to cover up the tittering, hands moving over her mouth instead and her posture straightening. "...it's so nice... to see you--I mean, meet you, Mister Agosa. Any extra help is welcome! It...I..." Blank silence. "I like guns!" Blurted out randomly. And then she seems relieved that those sounds are cannons and not her heart. Quick, act like you're investigating it! She does -- and gets far away.

Darshan adjusts the package he's holding, and starts to unwrap it. "There's not alot of point in waiting, no," he agrees, and the sith's eyes touch with sad humor. He turns, and looks at the man speaking to them. He's silent a while longer. "Tell them thank you. The ones providing the diversion." And then he has the cloth off, and is wrapping it around his fist, and stuffing it away.

Carmina glances at Kylie and arches an eyebrow, then looks to the islander. She frowns, deep lines on her face. She's clearly not pleased with the interloper to their group. "Time to go," is all she says.

"Of courwse," says Agosa, "I was hired as well." A nod follows and then he glances towards the General.

 

 The General grunts and says, "That'd be our cue. Looks like it's having to go a little ealier than I anticipated. Master Baldwin, would you do the honors?"

 

 "Of course," says the wizard. Like he was always there. Even if he wasn't. The old man leans on his cane a little and says, "Gather around." And with that, he begins to into the familiar words of a powerful spell of teleport. Only this one is without error. So precise are his movements and words, it is as if they were being made by something automated in and of itself. He gives a wink at Kylie, Carmina and Chandra even as he does.

 

 "Good luck," he adds, as you fade out of view.

 

 .. you reappear moments later in the midst of a smoking battlefield. The sounds of battle and death are everywhere and flames gout from three of Gettys' five towers. THere are soldiers in all directions of the Bludgunni army. You are presently hidden in the exterior stables along the side of the fort's walls, though they've long since been emptied of horses from the look of things. In the distance, the front doors of the keep are visible.

 

 Agosa sways a little, plate armor clanking as he grunts, "...No matter how many times that happens, I've yet to be used to it." His voice is different now, actually, and indeed quite a bit about him is actually different. He is no longer an Islander.

 

 Indeed, standing right here with you is a man of highborn blood, dressed in exquisite armor, his hand clenched over a sword with the symbol of the Lion Throne for a hilt. His reddish blonde hair marks him as a member of the royal house of the Myrrish Kingdoms.

 

 "We have work to do, gentlemen and ladies," says Prince Verin, "and the enemy to destroy. I would not let any Alexandrian risk what I would not be willing to risk myself."

Arngrim wobbles on his feet, leaning back and forth dangerously like a tree about to topple over but he then seems to come to his senses as he regains his footing..or at least he -thinks- he's come to his senses. "I could be mistaken but I thought I heard and just saw the Myrrish prince?" he says off handedly towards Darshan.

Karelin coughs, as he squats down, catching himself from the distortion of teleportation. He doubletakes back at the Prince, then closes his eyes, listens to the battle and the explosions and the screams to focus, and points at the keep. "We need to get inside as soon as possible."

"Guh," says Darshan. Silence stretches. It stretches from here to over the horizon, and goes on past from uncomfortable to just: holy crap, my brain just bumm'd, Batman. "Guh." Which is, 'yes, yes that is.'

The paladin manages a bow. It isn't too bad. It just doesn't suit his form, his race. Or the armor. But he executes it anyway.

"History is full of stories of nobility thinking that they can fight..." Carmina says, quirking an eyebrow at the prince. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a rag, tying it carefully around her head to hide those big ears. She nods to Karelin, then scans the battlefield. "Does anyone return inside? Carts? Prisoners?"

"Shit.." The Veyshanti mutters as her eyes fall on the Prince. Chandra shows her own signs of discomfort from the teleport, but it also could be all that terrible stew she ate before the got her.

Karelin gestures, then starts towards the keep, sword out. "Undoubtedly. The teleporter led elsewhere, though. And we don't want to go there."

"Yes, yes we do," says the heir to the Lion Throne. A quick nod follows and then he, without another word, charges out onto the actual battlefield with a cry, "FOR THE MYRRISH KINGDOMS!" And he rushes directly at the front door.

 

 Really.

 

 *Really*.

 

 He raises his hand up and a great blast of energy comes from a ring upon his hand and it *smashes* into the door. Those great, front doors of the keep. They fly open. Literally blown to pieces.

 

 And then?

 

 Then he runs inside with another battlecry.

 

 Really.

 

 There are about, oh, six trolls now in pursuit of him, too. Apparently, soemwhere along the line, someone let them out. Trolls. In fact, it now appears that the whole area is *swarming* with them.

Carmina nods to Karelin. "I can move us through a wall, if nothing else is avai..." She blinks at the prince. "Are you /fucking/ kidding me?"

Roland blinks and turns to watch the prince charge before dropping his head, "This is even worse than back home.." before closing his eyes and starting up a quick chant.

Kylie balances and then stabilizes on her feet, the teleport only a minor fog that drifts through her awareness before dissipating. She must be getting used to it a bit. But, similar to the prince, the little gunslinger no longer is a blushing maiden-spinster that can't form words. Knees bent, guns swirling about in her palms, she starts to cautiously stalk a few steps forward to take in the surroundings and listen. Which is brutally shattered by the islander when he literally shatters through a door and charges forth. "Oh--! Hey don't do that-- wait for the group, mister handsome island man!"

Arngrim reaches up and bangs his huge palm against the side of his head a few times, like a gnomish artificer attempting to reset an attempt at a crying device. His eyes and brain seem to rattle about in his head as he rumbles, "I must be disorientated still. I think I just saw the Myrrish prince, who is not supposed to be here, go charging into the fortress, ruining most of our planning efforts and possibly getting killed on our watch." He blinks a few more times but upon seeing that the sight before him hasn't changed, his mouth just slowly drops open.

"I guess we didn't get help.." Chandra mutters as the Prince goes right into the fray without considering. "I do no want to get strung up by the high king if his son dies." She reaches for a vial of potion in the bag on her belt, "After him.."

Karelin starts after the Prince, pulling a vial from his belt as he goes. He anoints his warblade, then trots along, going slow to get this right. The black blade seems to shimmer with an inner light. "Kor's sweaty fucking -balls-, Prince."

Darshan blinks, slowly. And the paladin steps back and at an angle, and produces the--scroll. One of a pair. He passes it to the Loremistress, "M'lady, if you've the time--" he says, and sketches something in the air in front of him. "I've a few things, so you know. A cure for paralysis, and...cures. But one will hope not to--" a look towards the Prince, a slow smile. "--need them. But one may."

Roland grabs a wand from his belt and whacks the metal lizard with a thunk, "Make yourself useful -- hit everyone you can with this, and pray that it diverts the demon-infested touches." Then he turns his attention towards the three most likely to hurl into battle after the prince and starts up another change.

Karelin keeps trotting after the Prince, downing a potion that causes his form to blur and waver.

Arngrim lurches into earth rumbling movement though the impact of his steps is likely swallowed up by the explosive impacts of the shelling and the horrible shaking of the earth caused by the charging trolls. He adds his own symphony to the quakes though, the rumble of his own steps increasing in fortitude now as his body starts to take on a stoney hue, cracks and chips even appearing in it, giving his entire physique the quality of stone and the added weight literally causing his feet to leave noticable imprints in the ground as he rushes behind Karelin. He reaches for his back and rips free his great maul from its peace bonds and begins whirling the huge weapon around in just one hand. The pace of his sprint defies his gargantuan girth as he quickly closes the distance.

There are trolls. -Everywhere-. A fourth tower explodes into fire. That's four generators down, based on what you've all heard, and that just leaves the very last and fifth one in the back of the castle across the fort from where you are where the last generator is apparently going to be. Hopefully, one of them will get to it! The shields, while weakened, do appear to be holding for the moment and you can see cannon fire abruptly stopping here. Moreover, the defenders have definitely noticed you and now swarms of trolls are paying attention to you and making their way over. A dozen of them, easily.

 

 And that's not all. Apparently, the destruction of the gates has triggered something *else* arriving. The ground here in the courtyard begins to shake. Tremble.

"I did not sign up for babysitting duty," Carmina murmurs as she waves her hands around. The wizardess disappears from view. Hey, she knows what to do when trolls are involved.

Roland shows a bit of his hereditary and joins the prince...Well, okay the three giantish trolls seem to deter him from that course of action by clubbing the bard but even as he raises his arms to somewhat protect his head he starts to chant, calling upon the manic rhythms until time seems to slow for the warriors.

Chandrakanta is a blur, drawing her black blade as she chases after the Prince, "I am the only one allowed to do crazy things like that.." She slightly scolds Verin as she comes up beside him. Seeing the additional trouble facing the party besides trolls she frowns.

Kylie's left a little gap-mouthed at the emergence of trolls pouring from every which angle, and her immediate reaction is to shoot. Gunshots pierce the air, loud and sharp, over and over. BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM! Bullets fly in coordinated effort at a troll invading the little pistoleer's personal space, hitting it in the chest twice, then tapping it once in the head. Gunky blood flies, along with loud trollish grunts. A severe crackling sound emits as ice grows out of the gaping gunshot wounds, then shatter like icicles. The little gunslinger is wielding icebullets.

Karelin grins, howls "KOR!" and accelerates (magically) after/past the Prince. That a troll cuffs his blurry form doesn't phase him in the slightest, as he introduces himself to the animated suits of armour with a downward blow that rends the breastplate apart from shoulder to hip and knocks the pieces spinning across the floor.

Well, then.

 

 The suits of armor attack. Really. Each one of them is wielding a longsword and shield, cutting the very picture of the stalwart warrior, except there's nobody wearing the armor suit. They converge on Karelin, Chandkranata and the Prince. The two men are easily able to fight off the attacks of the strange armor constructs.

 

 T hen? Then something happens.

 

 "Alpha-287 has fallen. Repurpose his parts." And so the fallen one's parts *spin* away from it, pulled apart and seemingly distributed out amongst the remaining one of thems. Each of them seems to grow a little bigger, a little stronger.

 

 And?

 

 "Initiate hasting processes. Combat speed increased by one hundred percent."

 

 And then they begin moving *faster*. Much faster. Their swords have even seemeed to gain in size and mass. And this time, with their redoubled efforts, they bring their blades home agains Karelin and Verin. A shot looks like it *should* have hit Chandrakanta, but she somehow managed to avoid it.

The ground splits and bursts open and *something* begins hauling itself up out of it. Whatever it is is covered in dirt and earth, or perhaps is made of it. Either way, it's big. Very, very big. One could even say massive. All you can see right now are a pair of arms and the top of some svaguely head shaped thing.

Roland has disconnected.

"Pah," says the Prince Verin, "The cowardly Bludgunners do not even face us with their own forces?" He smashes into the construct, shearing through it with the great Lion Blade he holds in his hands. The two hander easily smashes through another one of the cosntructs, yes.

 

 And then the parts are reabsorbed by the others, just like the ones before. And each one of them drops their shield, reasorbs *that* like the metal is liquid being sucked up into a sponge, and their blade become great looking, wicked, giant, fuck-off two handers.

 

 "Hm," says Verin, "That was not expected."

"Forward!' roars Arngrim as he charges into the fray. At first he almost dips into the well of the bottomless Dran Rage - but he hesitates at the last second and instead charges forward to attempt to clear a route for the party to seek passage to the rear of the fort. He finds much of the way already clear though he manages to swing his enormous pillar sized club around with a loud *WHOOOOM* to slam it into a trolls body as he rushes past with shuddering steps. The status of the troll is left to the winds as he continues moving forward, expecting the others to take the chance and follow after.

"Kylie!" The battlefield's chaos around them, and his voice is, likely, barely heard above it. The paladin grabs hold of the gunslinger about the middle and shoves her under one arm. The other grabs a shield, that he raises against the oncoming horde. And then it's time to run.

Carmina's disappeared from the battlefield. This is never a good thing. Of course, she could be like, hiding behind a rock or a door, but she could also have been snatched which won't have been discovered until the heat of battle is over. But then, however, there is a mighty, mighty whoosh, followed by a glowing bright light and a blaze of heat. Her voice can be heard saying "Excellent" as trolls howl in pain, burning.

"Its like this.." Chandra slides towards the many constructs going after the Prince. Gripping the black blade with both hands she strikes as if she's been practicing for moments like this all her life. Shearing off the limbs and breaking up the body of the construct. Her movements a dance, that would make certainly make the artificer who designed these machine cry as she undoes his labors with finesse and grace.

The trolls here in the courtyard *immediately* go for Kylie, Arngrim and Darshan as they're the most visible target. For the most part, all of them are able to fend off the attacks of the trolls easily, between the shield and sword and even dodgy gunslinger-girlyness, but as the three of them get closer to joining their comrades in the front of the fort's entryway, the more hemmed in it looks like you're getting. And there's still that *thing*...

Kylie's eyes widen in a look of dreaded fascination at the recombining mechanical parts, swirling into an even greater death machine -- and then the ground splits and bursts open like an oozing wound. Some hideous creature of massive, disfigured proportions pulling itself free from the soil it seems to be covered in -- or made out of. That's when she screams in horror at the sight. Loudly. It is enough to crush her morale enough to take her away from battle, meaning she was an open target in these split seconds of her terror. But, suddenly, Darshan is there and she's moving and things are getting jostled around. Somewhere, somehow, she realizes that he plucked her on the defender's path toward safety. It seems to bring her out of it -- just int time, too, to spot a troll leaping out from the side toward them. "EEEHHHHHY!" BLAM! She shoots him right in the chest, the impact repelling his lunge and knocking him away.

Karelin blurs into motion, striking out at the reforming machines, hammering one down again, sending more parts flying -- to reconstitute, at least.

Roland has connected.

Growing stronger and faster as their counterparts are being laid low, the remaining constructs are just definitely laying the vicious attack in now -- even if they're not meeting much success now.

 

 "Increase combat speed by an additional one hunred percent. Forthcoming. Individual unit opperating at one hundred seventy five percent of base line strength."

A hand is now freed as the great earth elemental awakens from its slumber, forming itself from the rocks. It's different, though, somehow. It's body appears to be crackling with some kind of blackish energy that does not look right. Most of you have, after all, fought elementals before and there's something wrong with this one.

 

 It smashes a fist into Arngrim's massive body, lifting him up and sending him *sailing* into the fort with enough power that the wall is severely dented. There's a (mot so) little Arngrim shaped crater in it now.

Roland keeps ducking and moving, having learned that yes indeed trolls can pack a punch as he falls back to the others before calling out encouragement to his allies...

Six seconds later, another brilliant blaze of fire erupts in the courtyard. More troll screams, more troll pain, more smell of burnt troll. Yummy.

Having deftly avoided the blades of the constructs, Chandra continues to dance with her blade. Smashing the metal body until its not longer functional. At least on its own. Their numbers lessen.

Ouch. Arngrim sits dazed, for a few seconds, shaking his head back and forth as debris from the imprint he caused falls about him. One particularly large stone falls onto his head and shatters into many pieces upon impact an this seems to knock Arngrim back to reality. A very angry Arngrim. A very, very, huge and angry Arngrim. His physique bloats and flexes epically as the Dran rage rushes into him and the ground violently rumbles as he turns. It's like hitting him with a rock switched him with his evil negative energy plane twin or something! He lumbers to his feet, views the courtyard and then suddenly turns and literally walks violently into the outer walls of the keep itself. He's hindered for the space of an instant as hewn stone, several feet thick, gives way and then suddenly explodes inward from the force of the behemoths movements. As he emerges into the keep he points in Verin's direction and thunders in his deeper then yours voice, "THIS IS YOUR FAULT. I AM VERY ANGRY NOW." That declared, he starts to wade hugely towards the constructs. Somewhere else in Gaea, helpless villagers scream!

Kylie flees from the massive monstrosity that wants to oliterate them with its hamfists. She isn't the kind of gunslinger that could stand up to that kind of behemoth on her own! Not after seeing how it flung Arny like a ragdoll seconds ago. "Did--DID YOU JUST BREAK THE WALL, ANRY!?" Chasing after the dranei warrior, she ducks through his body-made hole and then comes out the other side hustling. And with bullets. BLAM! DING. Metal is hit as a bullet flies over Karelin's head.

Karelin keeps hammering at the constructs, sword diving in over and over again, cutting pieces away. He knocks another one down.

The massive elemental outside looks.. *unhappy*.

 

 It begins to sink back into the ground, though, as immediate threats move out of its reach. Whatever it's doing, though, probably doesn't bode well.

Carmina has disconnected.

"Yup." says Arngrim to Kylie, surprisingly coherent despite his previous roaring outburst and the fact that he's basically hulking out at the moment. He whirls his great maul overhead, spinning it like the roters of a airships engine as he steps forward into the fray. The weapon then comes descending downward, slamming the full weight of Arngrim's fortress crushing strength into the nearest construct. There's a whine of metal giving way and folding about the goliath's weapon and then his fist as he follows up the final attack with a crushing palm impact that compacts the construct downward in a brutish display of strength. Wide and nearly vacant eyed, Arngrim turns, searching for another target.

Darshan discovers trolls are somewhat affectionate critters. These leap on him, biting at his armor and shielding, and the sith'makar goes down. There's not much after that, save alot of snarling and growling from the beasts, but eventually...eventually...the sith'makar shoves out from underneath the snarling dogpile, throwing in some snaps of his own on his way out. And then it's time to get up, and run. And reach the entryway.