Cibola JUNGLE ATTACK so far:
It is currently 07:06:35 MDT (GMT -0600) on Thursday, June 25, 2009.
Setting by Benedict at Wed Jun 24 16:10:51 2009: This is the second part of a journey deep into the jungle, looking for Ithikchitl Mountain, a holy burial ground accessible only to Royalty/Nobility, and with a reputation to scare off any sensible guide. We are currently at the stage of marching through miles and miles of swampy jungle, flat jungle, and hilly jungle. All of it is infested by snakes, natives, insects, giant slugs, and Joseph Conrad plotlines. Anyone may run scenes involving any or all of this, with the emphasis on people trying to stop us or move us off course. Keeping our guides alive is a priority, but not number one on the list; more guides can be hired.
There are snakes in the nearby area. Many many snakes.
There is also an army of confused and angry jaguar worshippers who have had their living god vanish mysteriously.
--[ Antukt City ]-----------------------------------------------[ Cibola ]----
The country here is low and flat, a river delta cut into a thousand
ribbons of water. The risk of flooding is apparent in the
architecture. A mix of stone and wood buildings are built on stilts or
use the ground floor for purely temporary purposes, with exterior
staircases leading up to patios and second floor doorways. Rope
bridges and wooden archways form a second set of highways and byways,
and stone-lines canals provide another way around. The whole layout is
an intricate knot, richly decorated with banners and pennants of every
color. It is a riot of activity and noise, full of song and laughter
that seems undeterred by the constant heat.
Beyond the boundaries of the city the canopy of the jungle surrounds
the city on three sides, green contrasting with the blue of the ocean
to the east.
Beatrice, Benedict, Krieger, and Liam are here.
--[ setting ]------------------------------------------------[ Exits: SE ]----
The morning sun has just risen, though through the jungle canopy it's hard to tell outside of a slight lightening of the shadows. Oh yeah. And the suddenly climbing heat. The noise of the jungle is constant, the movement of living things, the calls of unfamiliar animals, the rustle of plants and men alike creating a distracting symphony ever since they stepped foot in Cibola. So it must be a relief now that it's quieted down a bit and things are seeming slightly hushed. For his part the Kitezhka, up early, is enjoying the near silence. He rasps a stone down the blade of his borrowed machete, trying to carefully remove the knick from it's edge as he waits the others readiness to move on.
Benedict is the sort to get up early, although in this case he is using the relative peace of the jungle to shave with a neat cut-throat razor. So far today he has not killed anyone.
Beatrice and a picket of bearers, one of the borrowed guides, and several Amberites arrive from the jungle in camp at around dawn. She's clearly towards the front of this line, though it's a longish one so not everyone will arrive at the same time.
Krieger looks over at Benedict as he shaves and grins, "You should grow a beard." suggests the very large shirtless bearded man, "It would make you appear more fierce. Nothing shaggy, but neat and trimmed." he nods sagely, because in his opinion /all/ men look better with beards. It's a whole thing with his people. He continues to work the knick from the machete with the stone even as one of the guides walks over and yammers something at the giant in Cibolan. Kri blinks at the man then just points with the blade at Benedict because he obviously understood nothing of what the man said. The man sighs then heads Ben's way trying his statement once more, though he seems mulified by the appearance of the returning party. Kri, for his part, eyes the newcomers and grunts before turning back to his work.
Beatrice is just explaining to Liam as they enter and exchange nods with sentries, "It's not a typical 'click' it's... your tongue has to hit the roof of your mouth and come down just as you're making the other noise, "uleh."
Liam is gamely attempting to mimic Beatrice's noises with Cibolan pronounciation and failing utterly. "So it's this... noise? I don't think I'm getting it, Aunt Beatrice."
Benedict looks around at the various disturbances, and gestures the line of newcomers over. "I am informed there is an unnatural quiet," he says, and folds away his razor.
"You aren't," Beatrice assures Liam with a matter-of-fact undertone that still contains a bit of a sigh. "My Prince," she greets, closing the distance with a sure stride -- tempered by the need to assure she's not stepping on any snakes -- "Is the unnatural quiet due to us?"
Benedict says, "Probably not." He turns back to look to the guide. Anyone who understands Cibolan dialects will hear, "Is us the quiet... no, wait. Is the quiet because us?"
Liam looks utterly relieved to be free of the Cibolan language lesson and simply trails along. The flora is all quite interesting! Really!
Beatrice helpful murmurs a clarification of this question as she takes her place at Benedict's side, with only a glance to make sure their stores are all being stowed here and there properly.
The guide, once worried, seems more annoyed now then anything else. He bows twice and quickly walks off, shooting irritated glances out of the corner of his eye at the new group. The guide stops, eyes Benedict, then points accusingly at Beatrice and Co. He frowns and pouts a bit as he heads away. Krieger stands and rumbles a laugh, "It would appear our guides are of a sensitive and temperamental disposition. Are you sure they are not Amberites?" he rumbles out in an amused tone. Kri likes to poke fun at the Amberites for being soft but it's always in good fun with him. He only occasionally means it. "Highness, it has been quiet for some time, I had assumed it was the night itself but there is a chance it was just our friends return-" he stops mid word and glances down at his chest. "Huh." he states, plucking a small feather from his sweat stained skin where it's plastered itself. "Now the birds are molting. I tell you, this place is entirely inhumane." he tosses the feather aside and once more lifts the harness for his massive axe and straps it on. "Are we ready to move on, or are you still finishing making yourself pretty?" he quips at Ben who was shaving a moment ago.
Benedict looks to the rest of his camp, which is wasting the cool of the day by sleeping through it. "/I/ am ready, he says with just a touch of smugness.
Beatrice remarks, softly, "Night in a jungle is never quiet." She's on her guard, and glancing up. In fact, she murmurs to the owl her rides her shoulder in low, bird-like sounds, and he glides off.
Promachos, the pale yellow owl, takes wing, revealing mothlike markings under his wings to those in the camp. He goes up and up to get a better view.
Liam is giving Krieger's enormous axe a very interested look, like the wheels are turning in his head. Then he gazes up in the trees, scanning for parrots.
There is not much 'up' for him to get, for it is not far before the owl must carefully pick his way through an ever tightening canopy of vines, interwoven branches, and hanging algea like growths. Still, it isn't as if birds don't fly here. Kri eyes Benedict, then the camp, and he grins, "You want I should wake them?" he asks impishly. brushing another feather from his shoulder and eyeing the air overhead, seeking his molting culprit only to find nothing. As he looks up another feather appears on his neck. Then another. Then three more on his chest, two in his stomach. "Well that is strange." the giant comments, glancing down at himself. "Why is the bird choosing me!?" now he's a bit whiney... and wobbly. He blinks rapidly and then tilts his head to the side, eyeing Benedict. "You are very short. Almost wee. Like a small girl." Kri, the Kitezhka giant says to Benedict, Prince Marshal of Amber. He grins a bit foolishly and reaches out with a hand to swipe at the air before him, "And so /far/ away..." as a last bit of shame he turns to eye Beatrice, "And you... you lady, you smell good." his final, thankfully, words before the seven foot plus nearly four hundred pound mound of muscle falls forward like a deadfall tree. The impact actually great enough to send out a tremor. He doesn't move. His back is, literally, sprouting feathers, over a dozen or more. Feathers attached to tiny little darts. Somewhere there is a man behind a blowgun who is severely winded.
Benedict is already shouting, "STAND TO!" by halfway through the fall. The camp bursts into sleepy action as people wake, grab weapons, and start scanning the undergrowth. The Prince himself bends to pick up Krieger rather than diving for direct cover, but a Kitezhka muscle man twice his size will make good armour once he starts the run to safety.
Beatrice's instinct is to get between Benedict and flying darty things. Also to help him with Krieger if this seems necessary -- which it likely does not. In general she keeps close to her right, making a sharp, owl-like sound that is probably a shouted order of her own.
Liam does what any sane man does when confronted with poisonous blow darts from the forest -- he dives for cover behind a nearby bush and hopes that his prone shape makes a less tasty target than someone standing around having a smoke.
Krieger does make good armor! You know, except that a shirtless mound of sweaty muscle is slippery and hard to hold on to. Still, he blocks things well. The air fills with a sudden flurry of colorful projectiles that seem to pick targets indiscriminately dropping men in mere moments after having been hit. It's likely only due to the savages size that it took so long, and so many doses, to overtly effect him. A few fly for Bea, more then a few at Ben, though Ben may have found the best cover available. Overhead an owl, slightly out of place but still only an animal to the unseeing eyes of the tribal peoples here, spots one of the men nearly perfectly blended into the shadows of the jungle, gripping his chest and taking a few deep measured lungfuls of air. He actually was out of breath.
Pinned down they are vulnerable targets. So Benedict gives the order, "Charge!" and a target indication; that-a-way. He has spaced the camp out so that not everyone would be a target from every angle - he is, after all, Prince Benedict.
RPG: Benedict challenges a difficulty of 6, using his Wits plus SKL-MG. Benedict overwhelmingly succeeds.
RPG: Beatrice challenges a difficulty of 6, using her Wits plus SKL-MA. Beatrice overwhelmingly succeeds.
RPG: Liam challenges a difficulty of 6, using his Grace plus STY-SW. Liam overwhelmingly succeeds.
Promachos has evidently spotted something -- probably a someone -- and gives a shriek to give away his location even while diving away. It offers a specific target in the general direction of Benedict's 'charge!' Bea, not given orders to the contrary, leaves Benedict's side (as it's protected anyway) and leads this charge.
Liam nows has his sword out. It is a long, thin rapier -- not actually much use in a jungle but it is his chosen weapon. He uses the bush he was hiding behind as cover and climbs from the bush to a tree. He scrambles up the side of the tree at speed, using the easy hand and footholds of the prolific flora. Once high enough, he stands on a branch and chops a vine loose. With rapier in one hand and holding the vine in the other, he /swings/ over much of the flora until he is over the heads of the natives, drops down behind them, yells, "Stand and deliver!" and stabs two of them in the chest. Ha-CHA!
Benedict looks around his camp one more time, and then in a free moment starts plucking darts out of Krieger. Nice guy.
Beatrice gets her throwing dagger out as she runs and it finds a home in the dart-blower whose position was just given away by her owl. This means her on-hand is busy when she finds more of the enemy, so they gain the benefit of unarmed combat with Lady Beatrice Solaris; this would be instructive if it were not so likely to leave them dead. It also largely consists of taking their weapons from them and killing them with them.
Well... this is not going according to their carefully laid out plans. First of all, the giant should not have taken so many darts to fall! It's unheard of, but then, so is a man that size. And then to charge? Into the jungle!? It's... it's just lunacy. It's also a touch brilliant. There's a moment's hesitation on the parts of the cultists before they find their collective courage and leap from the cover of the brush. Some come from the trees on ropes made of vine, other's from ferns and even from the ground beneath cunningly constructed hidden pits. They rush in an unorganized manner, naked bodies painted with leopard spots and blood of an indeterminate source. They scream a high pitched cat like wail as they charge into battle armed with small spears who's tips glisten ominously with a green tar like substance, and handclaws made from the claws of a jaguar, also tarred and obviously poisoned. They hiss and scamper about, trusting to the poisoned weapons to do most of the work, jabbing at any they can find in a styleless untrained manner. More then a few are simply trampled underfoot by the press of the charge, never having a chance to so much as scratch at an enemy.
Benedict's charge is made up of the Lady Beatrice Solaris, and the men he brought with him to the jungle. Most of those are Non-commissioned Officers who volunteered. That makes them about as hard as nails. Coffin nails, in this case. Oh, and there's also a pirate in the honorary rigging somewhere.
Liam is clearly an add-on to the charge which involves a flashing rapier and a dashing smile. He is a mass of fight with style, grace, and a well-placed boot to the face. The spear tips never touch him for, in great pulp action hero style, he can easily sidestep a poisoned spear without the slightest look of fear and stab natives in the chest. And his hair stays in place while he fights natives two -- GASP TWO! -- at a time!
Benedict gets the last of the darts out of Krieger's back, and rolls him onto his front. His troops are doing well, and other than the occasional glance around, Benedict is unworried.
Krieger snores on the ground before Benedict. LOUDLY.
Setting by Benedict at Wed Jun 24 16:10:51 2009: This is the second part of a journey deep into the jungle, looking for Ithikchitl Mountain, a holy burial ground accessible only to Royalty/Nobility, and with a reputation to scare off any sensible guide. We are currently at the stage of marching through miles and miles of swampy jungle, flat jungle, and hilly jungle. All of it is infested by snakes, natives, insects, giant slugs, and Joseph Conrad plotlines. Anyone may run scenes involving any or all of this, with the emphasis on people trying to stop us or move us off course. Keeping our guides alive is a priority, but not number one on the list; more guides can be hired.
There are snakes in the nearby area. Many many snakes.
There is also an army of confused and angry jaguar worshippers who have had their living god vanish mysteriously.
--[ Antukt City ]-----------------------------------------------[ Cibola ]----
The country here is low and flat, a river delta cut into a thousand
ribbons of water. The risk of flooding is apparent in the
architecture. A mix of stone and wood buildings are built on stilts or
use the ground floor for purely temporary purposes, with exterior
staircases leading up to patios and second floor doorways. Rope
bridges and wooden archways form a second set of highways and byways,
and stone-lines canals provide another way around. The whole layout is
an intricate knot, richly decorated with banners and pennants of every
color. It is a riot of activity and noise, full of song and laughter
that seems undeterred by the constant heat.
Beyond the boundaries of the city the canopy of the jungle surrounds
the city on three sides, green contrasting with the blue of the ocean
to the east.
Beatrice, Benedict, Krieger, and Liam are here.
--[ setting ]------------------------------------------------[ Exits: SE ]----
The morning sun has just risen, though through the jungle canopy it's hard to tell outside of a slight lightening of the shadows. Oh yeah. And the suddenly climbing heat. The noise of the jungle is constant, the movement of living things, the calls of unfamiliar animals, the rustle of plants and men alike creating a distracting symphony ever since they stepped foot in Cibola. So it must be a relief now that it's quieted down a bit and things are seeming slightly hushed. For his part the Kitezhka, up early, is enjoying the near silence. He rasps a stone down the blade of his borrowed machete, trying to carefully remove the knick from it's edge as he waits the others readiness to move on.
Benedict is the sort to get up early, although in this case he is using the relative peace of the jungle to shave with a neat cut-throat razor. So far today he has not killed anyone.
Beatrice and a picket of bearers, one of the borrowed guides, and several Amberites arrive from the jungle in camp at around dawn. She's clearly towards the front of this line, though it's a longish one so not everyone will arrive at the same time.
Krieger looks over at Benedict as he shaves and grins, "You should grow a beard." suggests the very large shirtless bearded man, "It would make you appear more fierce. Nothing shaggy, but neat and trimmed." he nods sagely, because in his opinion /all/ men look better with beards. It's a whole thing with his people. He continues to work the knick from the machete with the stone even as one of the guides walks over and yammers something at the giant in Cibolan. Kri blinks at the man then just points with the blade at Benedict because he obviously understood nothing of what the man said. The man sighs then heads Ben's way trying his statement once more, though he seems mulified by the appearance of the returning party. Kri, for his part, eyes the newcomers and grunts before turning back to his work.
Beatrice is just explaining to Liam as they enter and exchange nods with sentries, "It's not a typical 'click' it's... your tongue has to hit the roof of your mouth and come down just as you're making the other noise, "uleh."
Liam is gamely attempting to mimic Beatrice's noises with Cibolan pronounciation and failing utterly. "So it's this... noise? I don't think I'm getting it, Aunt Beatrice."
Benedict looks around at the various disturbances, and gestures the line of newcomers over. "I am informed there is an unnatural quiet," he says, and folds away his razor.
"You aren't," Beatrice assures Liam with a matter-of-fact undertone that still contains a bit of a sigh. "My Prince," she greets, closing the distance with a sure stride -- tempered by the need to assure she's not stepping on any snakes -- "Is the unnatural quiet due to us?"
Benedict says, "Probably not." He turns back to look to the guide. Anyone who understands Cibolan dialects will hear, "Is us the quiet... no, wait. Is the quiet because us?"
Liam looks utterly relieved to be free of the Cibolan language lesson and simply trails along. The flora is all quite interesting! Really!
Beatrice helpful murmurs a clarification of this question as she takes her place at Benedict's side, with only a glance to make sure their stores are all being stowed here and there properly.
The guide, once worried, seems more annoyed now then anything else. He bows twice and quickly walks off, shooting irritated glances out of the corner of his eye at the new group. The guide stops, eyes Benedict, then points accusingly at Beatrice and Co. He frowns and pouts a bit as he heads away. Krieger stands and rumbles a laugh, "It would appear our guides are of a sensitive and temperamental disposition. Are you sure they are not Amberites?" he rumbles out in an amused tone. Kri likes to poke fun at the Amberites for being soft but it's always in good fun with him. He only occasionally means it. "Highness, it has been quiet for some time, I had assumed it was the night itself but there is a chance it was just our friends return-" he stops mid word and glances down at his chest. "Huh." he states, plucking a small feather from his sweat stained skin where it's plastered itself. "Now the birds are molting. I tell you, this place is entirely inhumane." he tosses the feather aside and once more lifts the harness for his massive axe and straps it on. "Are we ready to move on, or are you still finishing making yourself pretty?" he quips at Ben who was shaving a moment ago.
Benedict looks to the rest of his camp, which is wasting the cool of the day by sleeping through it. "/I/ am ready, he says with just a touch of smugness.
Beatrice remarks, softly, "Night in a jungle is never quiet." She's on her guard, and glancing up. In fact, she murmurs to the owl her rides her shoulder in low, bird-like sounds, and he glides off.
Promachos, the pale yellow owl, takes wing, revealing mothlike markings under his wings to those in the camp. He goes up and up to get a better view.
Liam is giving Krieger's enormous axe a very interested look, like the wheels are turning in his head. Then he gazes up in the trees, scanning for parrots.
There is not much 'up' for him to get, for it is not far before the owl must carefully pick his way through an ever tightening canopy of vines, interwoven branches, and hanging algea like growths. Still, it isn't as if birds don't fly here. Kri eyes Benedict, then the camp, and he grins, "You want I should wake them?" he asks impishly. brushing another feather from his shoulder and eyeing the air overhead, seeking his molting culprit only to find nothing. As he looks up another feather appears on his neck. Then another. Then three more on his chest, two in his stomach. "Well that is strange." the giant comments, glancing down at himself. "Why is the bird choosing me!?" now he's a bit whiney... and wobbly. He blinks rapidly and then tilts his head to the side, eyeing Benedict. "You are very short. Almost wee. Like a small girl." Kri, the Kitezhka giant says to Benedict, Prince Marshal of Amber. He grins a bit foolishly and reaches out with a hand to swipe at the air before him, "And so /far/ away..." as a last bit of shame he turns to eye Beatrice, "And you... you lady, you smell good." his final, thankfully, words before the seven foot plus nearly four hundred pound mound of muscle falls forward like a deadfall tree. The impact actually great enough to send out a tremor. He doesn't move. His back is, literally, sprouting feathers, over a dozen or more. Feathers attached to tiny little darts. Somewhere there is a man behind a blowgun who is severely winded.
Benedict is already shouting, "STAND TO!" by halfway through the fall. The camp bursts into sleepy action as people wake, grab weapons, and start scanning the undergrowth. The Prince himself bends to pick up Krieger rather than diving for direct cover, but a Kitezhka muscle man twice his size will make good armour once he starts the run to safety.
Beatrice's instinct is to get between Benedict and flying darty things. Also to help him with Krieger if this seems necessary -- which it likely does not. In general she keeps close to her right, making a sharp, owl-like sound that is probably a shouted order of her own.
Liam does what any sane man does when confronted with poisonous blow darts from the forest -- he dives for cover behind a nearby bush and hopes that his prone shape makes a less tasty target than someone standing around having a smoke.
Krieger does make good armor! You know, except that a shirtless mound of sweaty muscle is slippery and hard to hold on to. Still, he blocks things well. The air fills with a sudden flurry of colorful projectiles that seem to pick targets indiscriminately dropping men in mere moments after having been hit. It's likely only due to the savages size that it took so long, and so many doses, to overtly effect him. A few fly for Bea, more then a few at Ben, though Ben may have found the best cover available. Overhead an owl, slightly out of place but still only an animal to the unseeing eyes of the tribal peoples here, spots one of the men nearly perfectly blended into the shadows of the jungle, gripping his chest and taking a few deep measured lungfuls of air. He actually was out of breath.
Pinned down they are vulnerable targets. So Benedict gives the order, "Charge!" and a target indication; that-a-way. He has spaced the camp out so that not everyone would be a target from every angle - he is, after all, Prince Benedict.
RPG: Benedict challenges a difficulty of 6, using his Wits plus SKL-MG. Benedict overwhelmingly succeeds.
RPG: Beatrice challenges a difficulty of 6, using her Wits plus SKL-MA. Beatrice overwhelmingly succeeds.
RPG: Liam challenges a difficulty of 6, using his Grace plus STY-SW. Liam overwhelmingly succeeds.
Promachos has evidently spotted something -- probably a someone -- and gives a shriek to give away his location even while diving away. It offers a specific target in the general direction of Benedict's 'charge!' Bea, not given orders to the contrary, leaves Benedict's side (as it's protected anyway) and leads this charge.
Liam nows has his sword out. It is a long, thin rapier -- not actually much use in a jungle but it is his chosen weapon. He uses the bush he was hiding behind as cover and climbs from the bush to a tree. He scrambles up the side of the tree at speed, using the easy hand and footholds of the prolific flora. Once high enough, he stands on a branch and chops a vine loose. With rapier in one hand and holding the vine in the other, he /swings/ over much of the flora until he is over the heads of the natives, drops down behind them, yells, "Stand and deliver!" and stabs two of them in the chest. Ha-CHA!
Benedict looks around his camp one more time, and then in a free moment starts plucking darts out of Krieger. Nice guy.
Beatrice gets her throwing dagger out as she runs and it finds a home in the dart-blower whose position was just given away by her owl. This means her on-hand is busy when she finds more of the enemy, so they gain the benefit of unarmed combat with Lady Beatrice Solaris; this would be instructive if it were not so likely to leave them dead. It also largely consists of taking their weapons from them and killing them with them.
Well... this is not going according to their carefully laid out plans. First of all, the giant should not have taken so many darts to fall! It's unheard of, but then, so is a man that size. And then to charge? Into the jungle!? It's... it's just lunacy. It's also a touch brilliant. There's a moment's hesitation on the parts of the cultists before they find their collective courage and leap from the cover of the brush. Some come from the trees on ropes made of vine, other's from ferns and even from the ground beneath cunningly constructed hidden pits. They rush in an unorganized manner, naked bodies painted with leopard spots and blood of an indeterminate source. They scream a high pitched cat like wail as they charge into battle armed with small spears who's tips glisten ominously with a green tar like substance, and handclaws made from the claws of a jaguar, also tarred and obviously poisoned. They hiss and scamper about, trusting to the poisoned weapons to do most of the work, jabbing at any they can find in a styleless untrained manner. More then a few are simply trampled underfoot by the press of the charge, never having a chance to so much as scratch at an enemy.
Benedict's charge is made up of the Lady Beatrice Solaris, and the men he brought with him to the jungle. Most of those are Non-commissioned Officers who volunteered. That makes them about as hard as nails. Coffin nails, in this case. Oh, and there's also a pirate in the honorary rigging somewhere.
Liam is clearly an add-on to the charge which involves a flashing rapier and a dashing smile. He is a mass of fight with style, grace, and a well-placed boot to the face. The spear tips never touch him for, in great pulp action hero style, he can easily sidestep a poisoned spear without the slightest look of fear and stab natives in the chest. And his hair stays in place while he fights natives two -- GASP TWO! -- at a time!
Benedict gets the last of the darts out of Krieger's back, and rolls him onto his front. His troops are doing well, and other than the occasional glance around, Benedict is unworried.
Krieger snores on the ground before Benedict. LOUDLY.