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Michaelmas Term 2007 - History (Ancient and Modern)


Knave

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The mathematician grits his teeth. He seems to make some sort of silent resolution as he listens to David's wisdom.

"Yes, I see this. You -" he indicates Hal "you climb a building to save me. And you -"  he points and Annika "you make him scared. I feel when he run away now. He scared of you."

He nods. "Untie me - I will show you where he lies."

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⛤᛭⛤ Stats ⛤᛭⛤

 

Harm: ●●○ / ○○○○

Unstable:

Luck:  ○○○○○○○

Exp:  ○○○○

Moves

Cast Out Evil

Lay on Hands

No Limits

Smite

IC

He absolutely, positively does not trust this freak.

Whether that thing is pulling his strings still or he's just covering his own ass, nothing can convince Hal otherwise. Sophie releases him, but Hal begins to protest: how could she do something like that? David reassures him, and he has to admit, Sophie's empathy hasn't steered him wrong yet. He grows, his hand twitching as the skin starts to act up: is the sword going to summon itself? Maybe. Probably not. But still, how can they be so naive and fall for this guy's idiocy?

Annika speaks up, and a combination of factors, not least of which is Hal's own actions, cause the Icelandic "former" possessed to agree to lead them. His contempt is clear as day. "I don't like this. We can't trust him. But... you've got nowhere else to go, do you? Lead us there, prove you're trustworthy, and if you even think of betraying us for a second, I'll show you what divine vengeance can look like."

Hal does not, however, untie him.

OOC

No rolls here

Ongoing condition: +1 to avoid the cops, because now Hal doesn't talk to pigs either

Name
Manipulate our friend into not betraying us
8
2d6-1 3,6
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Sigurður leads his rescuers slowly and quietly from his room and down the communal stairwell. You pass a couple of inebriated students returning from a night out, but they pay you no mind.

He leads you to the far end of the ground floor corridor, where there is a rough plywood door bearing a number of warnings, the most prominent of which reads:

Construction! Keep Out!

The man takes a deep breath and pushes it open, stepping into the space beyond. Beyond is a large room, dimly lit by a chain of hanging workmen's lanterns, and with the rough plaster walls, exposed electrical conduits and open floor that show an extensive renovation is underway.

But it looks at though the building work has been interrupted: in the centre of the room are the tools of a different trade: archeological trowels, brushes and miniature hammers are laid out around a deeper hole in the ground.

Looking inside, there is a more ancient floor beneath the current one, bearing two inscriptions, the first of which reads:

sicariorum et homicidarum sors haec est. Anno Domini MI

The second is smaller, the engraving less deep, and it surrounds an empty recess.

libera nos a malo

David's Latin is serviceable, and he translates the first after a few moments: This is the fate of assassins and murderers. AD 1001.

The second, he doesn't need to puzzle out, as it's taken straight from the Lord's Prayer: deliver us from Evil.

Edited by Knave (see edit history)
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ynu3uIU.jpgSophie

○ the Monstrous 

Stats

Harm: ●●○ / ○○○○

Unstable:

Luck:  ○○○○○○○

Exp:  ●●○○○

Moves

Unnatural Appeal

Dark Negotiator

Immortal

IC

The circumstances unfolding, coupled with David's translation, cause the words to form in Sophie's mind unbidden. A century of accompanying little ones to Sunday mass, of leading them in their prayers before bed, of doing the same with Sophia in the dream. The invocation comes to her lips as a reflex. "O Glorious St. Brigid, Mother of the Churches of Erin, patroness of our missionary race, wherever their lot may be cast, be thou our guide in the paths of virtue, protect us amid temptation, shield us from danger. Preserve to us the heritage of chastity and temperance; keep ever brightly burnin' on the altar of our hearts the sacred Fire of Faith, Charity, and Hope, that thus we may emulate the ancient piety of Ireland’s children, and the Church of Erin may shine with peerless glory as of old. Thou wert styled by our fathers “The Mary of Erin,” secure for us by thy prayers the all-powerful protection of the Blessed Virgin, that we may be numbered here among her most fervent clients, and may hereafter merit a place together with Thee and the countless Saints of Ireland, in the ranks of her triumphant children in Paradise."

Then, realizing that there may be power in words, with respect to this thing, she glances at David. The idea is right there, carved into the stone. Part of the Lord's Prayer. And they already knew this creature took issue with the Church. If they wish to draw it out, maybe words are all they need. With an eyebrow raised in David's direction, she starts to recite:

"Our Father who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread,
and forgive us our trespasses,
as we forgive those who trespass against us,
and lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom and the power, and the glory,
forever and ever.

Amen."

And then she starts it again. "Our Father who art in heaven..."

OOC

Full disclosure, I am not the least bit religious and I'm just googling stuff here. So apologies if I'm misusing anything. The first is a prayer to St. Brigid for protection from evil and danger that comes from Ireland.

Name
Manipulate Someone
9
2d6+3 2,4
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Annika-removebg-preview.png.872abac25589690f6cf16f8da4ecdd12.png°φ←ζ Aηηika, hΣ HΣx ζ→φ•°

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

Force of Will

 

Rotes:

Leeching Enchantment

 

Gear:

Athame

Staff

Annika follows trepidatiously as Sigurd leads them to the construction site. She keeps her eyes trained on the young man, looking for any signs that her spell had either failed or worn off, allowing the monster to possess him again. Everything seems to be happening so fast. She had been able to come to terms with the fact that monsters — or at least the undead — are real and threatening. But the spiritual aspect of it all still messes with her head. 

If someone can be possessed, it means that consciousness can be transferred. It means ghosts, and spirits, and possibly other supernatural entities exist. That makes the world a much more dangerous place. How long can she last as a monster hunter? How long have the ones before her lasted?

 

She peers curiously at the collection of digging tools. “I’m pretty sure there’s a slew of HSE violations in there. My Pa would be pissed.” She smirks at her own humor, but given the situation, it seems everyone else is not exactly in a joking sort of mood. 

David translates the Latin and Annika is surprised to find that she actually would have been able to translate a word or two of the text. It turns out that being dragged to Catholic Mass every Sunday as a kid has its benefits. But when Sophie starts spouting off prayers, Annika is incapable of taming the scowl that forms across her lips. “Ugh…really? Are we really relying on religion to save our asses?” She glances towards David and repeats a phrase that she’s had to say daily when in his presence: “No offense.”

With an exhaled sigh, Annika begrudgingly begins repeating the Lord’s prayer in unison with Sophie. But her heart isn’t in it, and her focus is centered on the chamber beyond, searching for signs of an ambush or latent lines of magic. She isn’t exactly sure how she might see that last one, but she knows magic when she sees it — or ‘feels it’ would be more accurate. It was like a subsonic thrum; a vibration. It smells of ozone and tastes of iron and pure, bitter cocoa. 

OoC

Im gonna read a bad situation!

A 7 gets me one hold. I’ll spend it on ‘Are there any dangers we haven’t noticed?’

 

Edited by Spektor (see edit history)
Name
Read a bad Sitch
7
2d6 4,3
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Sophie prays that the rhythm of the ancient rite will be familiar to the creature, since it doesn't speak any English. Anything to draw its ire and lure it out...

Annika, like the lapsed Catholic she is, doesn't close her eyes to say the words of the prayer, but keeps a careful watch on the proceedings.

Just as Sophie goes to repeat them again, the new witch spies a familiar set of dessecated and charred fingers, one missing from the hand, rise silently from the stone floor and begin to encircle Sophie's ankle. She has time to shout a wordless warning.

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⛤᛭⛤ Stats ⛤᛭⛤

 

Harm: ●●○ / ○○○○

Unstable:

Luck:  ○○○○○○○

Exp:  ○○○○

Moves

Cast Out Evil

Lay on Hands

No Limits

Smite

IC

Like the good little socialist he was raised as, Hal did not have a strong sense of religion or even spirituality growing up. Opiate of the masses and all that: but things have gotten more... complicated as time has gone on. Religion may be an opiate, but that doesn't mean the things that go bump in the night don't exist. Which begs a lot of questions of God and um, of gods, and all the things beneath those two similar categories. Hal has nothing to add to Catholic-on-Catholic violence, but when the threat comes to sway, Hal is ready. Sophie's wordless cry is enough, and the mass of flesh melts around his hand as the blade once again emerges, Hal's face in a silent grimace as he prepares for the coming threat.

"Is the whole thing gonna pop out of am I going to have to keep cutting off fingers?? Any ideas?"

He does just that.

OOC

Kick Some Ass, with Smite activated of course

Ongoing condition: +1 to avoid the cops, because now Hal doesn't talk to pigs either

Name
Kick Some Ass on Them Fingers
8
2d6+2 5,1
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Posted (edited)

Hal's sword slices the hand clean off at the wrist, leaving it grasping Sophie's ankle.

There is a pause, and then the monster erupts out of the floor behind Hal, remaining hand tightly closed into a fist which he uses to deal a stunning blow to Hal's temple.

You see the dark figure clearly for the first time in the glow of the construction lanterns: gaunt and skeletal, skin drawn tight to the bones. He burns with a dark fire, and his clothes and arms are blackened. There are large rents in the back of his tunic and dark holes are visible beneath.

Hal takes 3 Harm ignore armour and is momentarily inhibited

 

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

 

Can I add Punching Bag to my CV now?

Ekram hadn't expected the guy to go to such lengths for them here, but David seems to have a way with people that he can't quite explain. He had been pretty quick to trust the doc with his own concerns early in their association so it doesn't exactly seem out of place for this man to do the same. Following the crew, he keeps the iron spike in his hand as they descend into the lower level. The sight of the construction and what it had uncovered paints a picture in his mind. Workmen digging through old flooring, a revelation of the ancient words beneath. It could have been a bloodbath if the creature had wanted it to be. Was it bound in some sort of slumber here before the interruption?

Sophie's call and Annika's half-hearted refrain elicits little more than a sidelong glance from the artist. When the words actually have an effect, though, he is slower to act than most because he had no reason to believe anything would actually come of it. Annika's shout, Hal's forward lunge, the scattering of a hand across the floor. As the monster rises up behind Hal, intent on revenge for the dismemberment, Ekram finds his feet again and leaps into that insignificant space between monster and prey. It takes effort to force them apart in that moment, but effort is something Ekram has in abundance.

"You can piss off back to viking zombie hell!" He puts his forearm into the creature's chest to force it back, which unfortunately puts him in the direct path of the dragr's swing, but it also gives him just the opening he needs to plant that iron spike square in its gut. He takes the fist hard to the side of his head but the spike finds solid meat as he jabs it forward. The muffled groan that follows is more pain than excitement at the successful stab, but the excitement is in there.

OOC Stuff

Going to Protect Hal, and I'm going to use Never Again cause I don't trust my luck to get a 10+ for the 'take little harm' option. So I'll be sucking up some or all of that armor-piercing blow, and since I'm limited in my choices I'll also opt for 'you inflict harm on the enemy'.

Edited by DoNotFearToTread (see edit history)
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ynu3uIU.jpgSophie

○ the Monstrous 

Stats

Harm: ●●○ / ○○○○

Unstable:

Luck:  ○○○○○○○

Exp:  ●●○○○

Moves

Unnatural Appeal

Dark Negotiator

Immortal

IC

The ploy worked, perhaps a bit too well. Sophie is caught by surprise when the creature's clawlike hand grabs her by the ankle. Thankfully, Hal swings to her rescue, again with the incredible weapon grown from his own body. To her eye, it looks metal enough. She winces as the blade comes within inches of her own flesh and wonders if it would have the effect of true iron or steel. Thankfully, she gets no answer to that question in this moment.

As the creature fully manifests, Hal and Ekram engage. Sophie is not a fighter, but she's also not a delicate flower. Plus, she's already lived close to as long as the others all put together. It's her place to be in harm's way, if it can help them live a little longer.

Ducking around behind the tangle of Hal, Ekram, and the wight, Sophie comes up behind and attempts to hold the thing and make it an easier target. Or at least keep it from slipping away as it has done before.

OOC

I'm going to try using Help Out. +1 to the next roll against the thing!

Edited by emotionaut (see edit history)
Name
Help Out
14
2d6+3 6,5
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OOC

Hal takes no damage

Ekram takes 3 damage ignore armour and is Unstable

Harm Move on Ekram: drop the iron spike

Ekram dives in front of the wight and takes the blow meant for Hal straight to the throat. He feels something internal pop and crunch, and the rest of you see blood start to flow from his neck.

Ekram counterpunches, driving the iron into the monster, who roars in his face, jaw opening unnaturally wide. The creature rips the spike away and throws it across the room as Sophie grabs it from behind.

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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

 

I Saw This in a Movie Once!

Ekram takes the hit and dishes out his own but the impact of the blow is beyond his expectation. Next thing he knows his feet are backpedaling of their own volition and Sophie's grapple is all that lets him put that distance between himself and the zombie. Pressing his hand to his throat he can feel the hot, wet slick of blood against his fingers. It's not bad, the cut, as the blood flow doesn't jump with his heartbeat like an arterial slice would. The real problem is what's inside that's broken. He can't breathe, and his body does what every body does when that happens. It panics. He spits blood onto the ground as he sinks to his knees, making a god-awful gurgling sound as the swelling in his trachea refuses to let it do what tracheas are supposed to do. His mind flutters through desperate images of his own demise, a funeral, his mother weeping at losing the last of her immediate family.

Gotta fight through it. He growls, blood bubbling between his teeth, and yanks the knife from its place in his belt. After he lost his first pound of flesh to a ghul he began to pay close attention to books on first aid and trauma surgery. Hospitals in Sarajevo were often filled to capacity, if he could even reach one in an injured state after throwing down with clawed beasts. He'd had to wrap up cuts and splint bones before but this was something he'd only seen on the screen. Turning the blade on himself, he presses it up against the hollow of his throat below the rings of cartilage and closes his eyes as tight as he can, tears streaming past the lids despite it.

Do it or die. One quick push, just enough to clear the skin and pop through the trachea. He keeps his head tilted forward so the blood flows with gravity, out onto the floor instead of back into his lungs. Lungs which are screaming for air, the pressure in his chest like a vice. His hand comes away from his pocket with a Bic and he yanks the back plug out of the pen with his teeth, a flick of his wrist sending the ink cartridge spinning across the stone floor. Lining it up with the cut, a single smooth push plants the empty tube in place and his lungs immediately fill. There's a soft whistling sound as air is pulled through the pen and into his body, then another as he pushes himself to his feet, one hand wrapped around his throat to keep the makeshift trach in place. The other hand holds the knife, slick with his own blood, and despite all of this he seems damn intent on adding this monster's blood to it.

OOC Stuff

Boy oh boy, I've been waiting to use this move since we started. Let's do some DIY Surgery on this injury. May be spending a Luck point as Cool is not my best stat, but we'll see how this goes.

Cool Roll

Sweet, an 8. Okay, I'll opt for 'heal 1-harm and stabilise but the patient takes -1 ongoing until it’s fixed properly' as my option.

Edited by DoNotFearToTread (see edit history)
Name
Cool Roll
8
2d6 6,2
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⛤᛭⛤ Stats ⛤᛭⛤

 

Harm: ●●○ / ○○○○

Unstable:

Luck:  ○○○○○○○

Exp:  ○○○○

Moves

Cast Out Evil

Lay on Hands

No Limits

Smite

IC

When the hand comes off, Hal is elated; when the wight appears, Hal is ready for it. But when it lunges for him, he's not ready for that: what's more, he's not ready for Ekram to get in its way, for the strange pop and the blood that comes. Oh God... oh God! With a roar, Ekram falling by the wayside and Sophie grabbing the wight, Hal channels his rage into the blade that now catches fire, burning from tip to crossguard, the Welsh warrior putting both hands on the hilt and preparing for the bloody business he was born for.

He takes a step back, and makes a careful strike, hoping not to hit Sophie as he tries to bring the wight down.

OOC

Kick Some Ass, with Smite activated of course

Ongoing condition: +1 to avoid the cops, because now Hal doesn't talk to pigs either

Name
Ass-Kicking for Goodness!
13
2d6+2 5,6
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Posted (edited)

As Hal wills the blade to be careful of Sophie, it retracts back into his arm. He approaches the restrained barrowwight, and it strikes him with a fist that is like a rock, but Hal steps forward again, places a palm against the chest of the restrained barrowwight, and then summons the blade once more.

It fluidly erupts, running the creature clean through the heart. It staggers back, grabbing at the wound with its remaining hand, and sending a large brass key skittering across the stone floor. It falls backwards to the floor, and then through the floor, disappearing from view. A second later, the key vanishes into the ground as well, hooked out by a momentarily protruding finger.

Then, everything is quiet, except for the heavy breathing of the Hunters. Siggudur slumps to the ground.

 

OOC

Hal takes 3 Harm ignore armour.

 

Edited by Knave (see edit history)
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The Reverend Dr. David Beaumont, Professor Emeritus Sheet

Luck □ □ □ □ □ □

Harm □ □ | □ □ □ □

Experience  □ □ □ □

 

It has been a long time since David was quick enough on his feet to be of any use in a fight like this. Age and decades behind a desk have dulled his reflexes. But he's still got his eyes, can still find a way to do something to help.

Edited by Ezeze (see edit history)
Name
Read a Bad Situation (+Sharp)
12
2d6+3 6,3
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