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Michaelmas Term 2007 - History (Ancient and Modern)


Knave

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In Brief

spacer.pngEkram

The Wronged

Stats: Charm +1, Cool +0, Sharp +1, Tough +2, Weird -1

Harm: ○○ / ○○○○

Unstable: 

Luck:  ●●●●●●

Exp:  ○○○○○

Playbook Moves

I Know My Prey

DIY Surgery

Never Again!

Trust Your Gut (alt Weird)

Invincible

 

Can I Kill it, Daddy?

The others catch up as Ekram and Annika follow the creature down the street, and there is comfort to be found in having the numbers. Even knowing that, however, he finds the sudden face-off with the barrowight unnerving. His weight shifts from foot to foot as she stands just to Sophie's right side. He wants to rush the monster, nobody could possibly misread his intention, and the energy it is taking to keep from doing that is making him real twitchy. Sophie's words, her ability to get through to these things, is something he has never been able to understand but it's proven useful in the past so he does his best to let this play out.

"Eyes up." He mutters through gritted teeth. If something is about to go bad, everyone should be ready. He watches the professor, looking past her and to the sides for any incoming threats, but his brain is also puzzling out which direction will be best to send people to get away from the trouble. It's good tactics to have an escape in mind and while the open area may seem like it offers plenty of options, any one of them could harbor an ambush. They could take this one, together like this Ekram is certain of it even without knowing what Hal is specifically capable of. But what if there's more? And isn't there always more?

OOC Stuff

Well, I did say I'd reserve Read a Bad Sitch for when we followed her so I guess that's what I should do right now. It's an 8. I want to know 'what is my best way out'?

Edited by DoNotFearToTread (see edit history)
Name
roll
8
2d6+1 3,4
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What is the best way out?

Blackhall road doesn't have any sideroads off it, but nor is it a dead-end. Neither you nor the creature is trapped. You can just turn around and leave. And the Eagle and Child is only just across the road then. The Society room has some wards, although the other patrons might be in trouble if a wight follows you in.

 

Edited by Knave (see edit history)
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Annika-removebg-preview.png.872abac25589690f6cf16f8da4ecdd12.png°φ←ζ Aηηika, hΣ HΣx ζ→φ•°

Condition: Blackened Lungs

Stats: Charm +2, Cool +0, Sharp +0, Tough -1, Weird +2

Harm: ○○/○○○○

Unstable:

Luck:  ○○○○○○○

Exp:  ●●●●

Temptation: Power

Moves & Gear

Bad Luck Charm

Cast the Bones

Sympathetic Token

 

Rotes:

Leeching Enchantment

 

Gear:

Athame

Staff

As they face off against the creature in the alley, Annika cannot help but think of the old American westerns that her Pa always had been a fan of. He had always used them to help him learn English, which meant he had a tendency to add a southern drawl to some of his words, something that always earned an eye-roll from Annika. But this thing they are facing against is no rugged gunslinger. This felt more like something out of Evil Dead.

Her eyes bounce between her allies, waiting for them to make a move. For a second, she locks eyes with Hal, hoping even he would know what to do in this sort of situation. Sophie is always the voice of reason, but Annika is not so sure that they are at a point where talking is going to help anything anymore. This thing needs to die, right? It needs to stay dead. So they should kill it. But what had Doc said this things weakness was? Iron. She doesn't have iron on her, as far as she knows. She's quite certain the studs in her belt are little more than an alloy made of aluminum and copper. That isn't going to do the trick.

"Alright, f*ck this thing, right? Let's take it out." The words do not come out as confident as she was hoping they would and she doesn't make a move quite yet. Not until the others confirmed it is the right move to make here. Yet, when the hands reach from the ground beneath the creature to grab...something, she recoils in disgust. "What the hell? What was that?" She squats slowly down to pull the Athame from the place she had tucked it in her boot and slowly rises to her full height. She then slides one foot closer to the creature to test the stability of the ground. How had that thing just reached through solid tarmac? "Whatever it just did, I don't think we want that happening again."

Annika inhales a deep breath and puts the point of her athame against the palm of her hand as she whispers a quiet incantation in an ancient pagan tongue. Her eyes suddenly gleam brightly as the casting completes and she suddenly extends her hands forward, "Stay right here." She commands.

OoC

I'm going to attempt to Use Magic to Trap a specific person, minion, or monster. I wanna see if I can summon a cage of iron around it, if only temporarily at least.

 

Name
roll
10
2d6+2 3,5
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The deep shadows thrown by the halogen street lamps darken and writhe as Annika chants, then burst free from their corners and run along the ground, coiling themselves around the wight's ankles and calves. They remain flat and formless, but seem to grip tightly. Professor Andrews strains against them, but she is held fast.

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The Reverend Dr. David Beaumont, Professor Emeritus Sheet

Luck □ □ □ □ □ □ □

Harm □ □ | □ □ □ □

Experience  □ □ □ □

Tonight was an object lesson for David in why monster hunting was, by and large, a young person's game. Ekram had shown up beaten and bloody and, before he'd even gotten himself oriented enough to act, the others - with Alice's help - had put together that there was more violence coming tonight and had sprinted out to act.

 

He'd followed along as fast as he could but, frankly, that wasn't very fast. Even a spry sexagenarian wasn't going to be able to keep up with 20-somethings, much less magically aided 20-somethings.

David wasn't carrying his iron sword for the rather simple and straight forward reason that running through the streets of Oxford with a meter long blade would cause panic. But he'd brought one of the iron spikes he'd used to lay Mr. Andrews to rest. Those were only about a quarter as long as the sword, much easier to hide in his jacket.

He arrived panting and out of breath, but fumbled out his spike and offered it - hilt first - towards the gathered group.

"Dr Andrews" he puffs between gasps for air "is being puppeted. From beyond the grave."

"She is already dead."

"All we can do for her. Is to stop her from hurting anyone else. Then lay her to rest beside her husband."

They are big words, and maybe the others will hate him for them. But hopefully they will do what needs to be done.

Edited by Ezeze (see edit history)
Name
Act Under Pressure (+Cool)
8
2d6+1 3,4
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Often Right

David arrives at Christchurch just in time to see the others leaving, and he is able to tag along at the back. The brisk walking pace that the wight sets is much more his speed and by the time they are on Blackhall Road he's almost got his breath back.

He spots Hal stepping back a little, uncertainty written on his face. Hal hadn't been at the graveyard, and although he had some experience with his family business, this barrowwight problem was another matter altogether. So although David ostensibly speaks to the assembled society members, he chooses his words for Hal in particular.

OOC: Hal gets +1 to dealing weapon harm to this creature (and the first time he does so, David marks Experience).

 

Edited by Knave (see edit history)
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ynu3uIU.jpgSophie

○ the Monstrous 

Stats

Harm: ●●○ / ○○○○

Unstable:

Luck:  ○○○○○○○

Exp:  ●●●●○

Moves

Unnatural Appeal

Dark Negotiator

IC

Sophie wants to imagine that a sliver of Professor Andrews remains inside the creature, just a Sophia lives on inside the shared dream in Sophie's own mind. But deep down she knows they are not the same, and she knows that David is right.

Looking around at the others, she also realizes it may be on her to get bloody first. Both Hal and Ekram have been through the wringer, in one way or another. Annika has given them a good opening with her magic, and now it's time to capitalize. "Here then, she's not gettin' any deader just standin' there. But only fair it's ladies first, now."

Declining David's offer of an iron spike, Sophie strides forward unarmed. She shrugs off her denim shirt so that she's left in her plain white tee. As with all things, she does not act rashly or with unbridled emotion. She even mutters an apology to the barrowwight. "Sorry about this, mum," she says, before darting in close to deliver a punch to the creature's side. To a student of martial arts, it's not without form, but the style also defies conventional categorization.

OOC

Let's try to Kick Some Ass. Her damage is 1-harm, magical, and it ignores armor (if that applies).

Edited by emotionaut (see edit history)
Name
Kick Some Ass
7
2d6 1,6
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Sophie finds her mark, the sharp sound of a snapping rib telling the tale of a blow well struck. The creature doesn't seem to feel it. Professor Andrews's cadaver returns the attention, but she swings a closed fist against Sophie's skull like a sledgehammer. Sophie goes down completely limp.

The corpse strains the step forward, reaching out for the exposed throat, but Annika's bindings hold for now.

OOC: 2 Harm, Harm Move: Pass Out

Edited by Knave (see edit history)
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⛤᛭⛤ Stats ⛤᛭⛤

 

Harm: ●●○ / ○○○○

Unstable:

Luck:  ○○○○○○○

Exp:  ●●●●

Moves

Cast Out Evil

Lay on Hands

No Limits

Smite

IC

The death moved him. Withdrawing within himself, Hal takes it personally: yes, Sophie is absolutely right, they were too far gone. Everything about this is too far gone. But Hal feels he could have done it better, done more, been more proactive about knowing himself, about being himself, about accepting this part of himself that he hasn't shown anyone, not his father, not his grandmother, no one. His experimentation with healing is a first step, something he thought was palatable, something he could show the others to accept the question within him of what, of who he was. So much repression, so much guilt over something he had no control over... and the Society had taken him in anyway, brought him in, nepotism and kindness all at once.

So, having failed, he went through the motions. He followed towards the beast, stared it down, but didn't let it set what he was looking at, at the form that had once been Professor Andrews. He heard Dr. David's words, about needing to put it down, as nothing but distant echoes.

It is the snapping of ribs that wakes him, breaks through the echo and the noise, followed by the slam against Sophie's skull. He moved too late. But he could do something about it now if he acted now.

"No more."

He held out his hand, as he had been taught to do by the man in that eternal autumnal forest who wasn't a man but something else, and he spoke the words.

"Cleddyf y Tadau, clywch eiriau'r oesoedd: paratowch yr enaid hwn i frwydr yn erbyn lluoedd y rhai tywyll !"

His right hand outstretched, there comes a sickening noise, as the skin beneath his jacket, his sleeves, begins to ripple up towards his wrist, when the horror becomes visible: his flesh warps towards his palm, sweat erupting on his brow as a blade breaks the flesh, rippling as almost blue steel, stained with flesh and blood, emerges until a hilt of wood, ivory, and gems a full metre long appears, floating a half second still drenched in the strange dark pinkish flesh that had become Hal's arm, Hal's hand, until the sword passed. Once emerged, his hand, reformed in perfect form but juicy with sticky near-flesh, twists and grabs the blade, bringing it to his left and holding it with both hands. An energy rings from the blade; the flesh evaporates to nothing, leaving Hal's hand in perfect and dry form: his sweat remains beady on his brow, his eyes bloodshot as much from his damage as anything.

"Get away from her, you gross cachgi. Face me."

His challenge given, he charges, swinging the blade behind him, and prepares for war: the blade erupts into flames.

OOC

Summon his cool ass blade, and start Kicking Some Ass, 10 to hit for 3 fire holy hand harm.

Edited by Gregorotto (see edit history)
Name
Kick Some Ass with Blade
10
2d6+3 3,4
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You inflict terrible harm

The corpse face, that remained totally impassive as it was bound by magic and struck by Sophie, reacts to the words of the old language that Hal cries out. A different expression passes over its face and it watches almost curiously as Hal runs forward and runs her through to the hilt. It makes no move to attack him.

The holy fire of the blade burns brightly in the dark alley, shredding the dark shadow-bindings of Annika's spell. The creature collapses next to Sophie's unconscious form. Moving jerkily with the bones and sinews that remain unbroken, it rears up over the young woman, ready to strike.

OOC: to prevent harm to Sophie, it's likely a Protect Someone or Use Magic Move, unless someone has a playbook Move that fits the bill.

 

Edited by Knave (see edit history)
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In Brief

spacer.pngEkram

The Wronged

Stats: Charm +1, Cool +0, Sharp +1, Tough +2, Weird -1

Harm: ○○ / ○○○○

Unstable: 

Luck:  ●●●●●●

Exp:  ○○○○○

Playbook Moves

I Know My Prey

DIY Surgery

Never Again!

Trust Your Gut (alt Weird)

Invincible

 

Ashley...look at ME!

"What can magic not do?" Lacking time to linger on the thought Ekram starts forward, diverging a single step in his advance to snag the iron spike from David's hand, but even that is enough to give Sophie the lead. She puts her fists to the monster in a fashion that shows more precision than he'd expected. The barrowwight returns the effort with a hammering blow that would likely have rocked even his own thick skull. It brings him to stop again, this time shifting his path to the right to come in on Andrew's exposed side and once again he falls behind, Hal surging forward with a...

There is nothing that could have quite prepared Ekram for what he sees. It's like a Cronenberg body horror without a flickering projector and floor sticky with spilled soda. The blade that results is unlike anything he's ever seen, something that his brain immediately recognizes as that blend of mythical and impossible he comes across too damned often these days. Hal brings that weapon to bear and, with a single swing, the 98 lb nothing lays out a creature that just hours before had put Ekram in the dirt. Granted, it was an ambush but that doesn't make the whole thing any less surprising.

Time catches up, and the draugr writhes on the ground with Sophie in easy reach. Closing the distance takes only two steps and he lets his weight sink toward the pavement. He twists his body as he drops, taking the impact on his hip as he slides the last half-a-foot like a baseball player stealing home. He locks his legs around Andrew's arm and gets his empty hand on the monster's wrist, keeping the fingers close to himself and away from everyone else. The muscles in his stomach tighten against the impending scratches and they come away practically unscathed. Holding tight, he keeps her from squirming far as he looks up at Hal. There are so many questions, so many issues to dig into, but in that moment he only manages one.

"What the hell is cachgi?"

OOC Stuff

Let's Protect Sophie, since I'm kinda built for it. I'll use my Never Again! move to treat it as a 10+ and opt for all impending danger is focused on you. I take the harm, which my recently acquired Invincible move makes short work of.

Edited by DoNotFearToTread (see edit history)
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all impending danger is focused on you

Ekram dives in front of the unconscious Sophie, tangling up the burnt and broken corpse with his own body. The claws rake across him, the fingers suddenly slashing sharp like razors.

OOC: 2 Harm, (if you take at least 1 Harm after armour, you also take the Harm Move 'Intense Pain')

 

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The Reverend Dr. David Beaumont, Professor Emeritus Sheet

Luck □ □ □ □ □ □ □

Harm □ □ | □ □ □ □

Experience  □ □ □

Hal is pressing the attack with his unexpected, but certainly very useful, power. Ekram is protecting Sophie. As much as he'd like to rush in and help, David knows he'd be more liability than asset. Better to hang back, and keep an eye on the boys' backs.

Name
Read a Bad Situation (+Sharp)
13
2d6+3 6,4
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What's the best way in?

David also sees the hand grasp something that Professor Andrews had delivered for it. He knows that barrowwights have a strong attachment to the place of their death, and the place of their burial, and that their powers are strongest in those places.

David looks about. To his right stands the back of St John's College. It strikes him that this is Sigurður's college, where he sleeps and works, and where his dreams have been invaded. If David had to guess, he would venture that the barrowwight's grave is somewhere within the wall of St John's. The best way to find it would be within the College itself.

 

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ynu3uIU.jpgSophie

○ the Monstrous 

Stats

Harm: ●●○ / ○○○○

Unstable:

Luck:  ○○○○○○○

Exp:  ●●●●○

Moves

Unnatural Appeal

Dark Negotiator

IC

"More tea?" Sophia asks, holding out a small pink teapot.

Confused, Sophie blinks a few times. It takes her a moment to remember that she and Sophia are having tea in her castle. "What? Tea? Oh, yes. Please," Sophie replies, offering her tiny cup to be refilled. She doesn't even remember drinking the first one.

Sophia dutifully fills the cup, not spilling a single drop. She then sits daintily, folding her skirts beneath her and taking up her own cup. "Should we ride horses after this? 'Tis a lovely day."

Sophie nods absently. "Horses. Of course, chicken," she says, swirling her tea and pondering the bits of leaves at the bottom. Something's nagging at her. "But was there something else? I'm feelin' like I'm forgettin' something."

"I don't think so," Sophia says with an adorable shrug.

But the feeling continues to dig at the back of Sophie's skull like a piston. It throbs. She reaches a hand up and rubs the back of her head. She finds it sticky, and her hand comes away bloody.

"Did you hurt yourself?" Sophia gasps. "Oh! We can play Sisters of Mercy instead!"

The little girl pops up and takes Sophie's other hand. And just like that, they are in a long room filled with simple cots. Half the beds are filled with men in uniform, each bearing some minor wound, already neatly bandaged so as to not show any blood. Sophia is wearing a black dress with a black cape to her waist, with a white cap and veil over top. Looking down at herself, Sophie sees that she's dressed the same as the soldiers in the other beds.

"Have a lie down, and we'll take a look at you," Sophia says, gently helping lower Sophie to a reclining position on the cot.

Sophie is confused, again. Had she been fighting? Yes, there was a... battle. She needs to get back into the fight. Looking at Sophia, she says, "I don't think I can stay, love."

Sophia smiles. "Don't be silly. You're hurt, and I'm going to take care of you. Just like you always take care of me."

OOC

For the moment, this is just to pass the time. BUT if the barrowwights are indeed connected to Sigurdur and his dream daddy, I am wondering if I might do some good somehow from in here...

Name
Weird
9
2d6+3 1,5
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