Golden Hunter: Keeping The God Dead, Pt. 1
Merri wraps both arms around Maggie, cradling her head as he gazes at her net-seared cheek, then at her eyes. "Wake up, Hotstuff." Poor gal's out... but breathing. Jaw setting into a grimace, Merrisol carefully gathers himself and rocks forward onto his knees. He resheathes the scimitar at her hip, then balances Maggie in one arm so he can grab the trident again and bring with him too as he stands. Looking around and back at the faceplanted Hunter, he studies it tensely for twitches of movement. "Ruby.. move that net away, would you? Quinlan..?" he turns as the mage flies over from Justin's triage area. His right leg reminds him with a sear pain that he'd just been perforated by his wife's bane blade, and he leans on the trident as he hobbles to meet Quinlan halfway. "Is it really done? Ruby's and Justin's stuff did the trick?"
Quinlan alights near the net-tangled group, using his hands and not magic to try and help with the detangling. "Done?" he echos. "Not really. It's a god. That'd make things complex at the best of times. I've got some plans to make sure this one stays dead." He flashes a brief, albeit tense, smile. "We can't afford this bastard coming back. We need to cut the body up, separate the pieces. That's first - that'll force the god to go to the divine backup plan, which will buy us time."
Miriam peers at Maggie and Vael, looking worried. "Will they be alright?" she asks Merrisol, though not being any sort of medic she heads towards the fallen god. Her sword's still out, and it seems she just plans to stand there with its resting against the Hunter's neck. Just in case of twitching or any other signs it isn't really dead. She looks pretty wiped out, and has monster goo caked onto her.
RPG: Miriam declares she is consuming token ek6:
-------------------------------------------------------------------[ ek6 ]----
Author: Justin Held By: Miriam
Date: Sun May 3 22:08:40 2015 Focus: 3
Title: Elixir of a Thousand Pins
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Created via Alchemist (ALC-AL): power-token token-3 type-magic
Gift description:
This character can brew potions for a variety of effects. A potion may be given to anyone, and used by anyone. Each individual potion is represented by a 3-Focus token; the token must be consumed when the potion is used.
Specifically, a potion affects the drinker for up to the duration of a scene. It can generate a single effect, similar to a 5-point chargen-available RPG gift that affects the body. Examples of such effects include temporary immunity to fire, the ability to breathe underwater, and the ability to move exceptionally quickly. It cannot grant mystical abilities that do not manifest themselves in a direct physical manner (for instance, it can grant the ability to breathe fire, but it cannot grant the ability to create a glamour, speak with the dead, or sense the presence of magic). It is not mind-influencing in any way (with the exceptions of sleep, uncontrolled hallucinations, and the like, which are treated as strictly physical effects). If this is used for shapeshifting, only mundane animals that grant no combat advantage and have no special abilities are permitted, and the animal must be determined at the time the potion is created.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Token Description
Using the information provided in Token EK3 by Vayel, Duke Chantris and through research in Chantris Library Justin has concocted a special elixir which when coated upon a weapon an extra-sharp quality specifically against such things immune to regular steel. When the weapon used connects there's a sizzling sound as the elixir reacts and dissolves whatever it touches. The burning smells a little of plum wine and the elixir itself is a rich shade of purple much like a bruise. An imprint of the weapon used sticks in the armor and/or flesh and bursts again sizzling and causing a sensation as though a thousand pins were pricking one spot at the same time. The resulting impression creates a vulnerable spot and a nasty scar. The weapon can be anything as the elixir reacts to contact and is dormant until used.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
RPG: Miriam used the following +token/use targets: Rub al Kali: The Forsaken Desert - Alhambra
Ruby stares down at the ravaged body of the god. Her chest rising and falling, drawing in more scents of the battlefield. Some familiar, though many brand new and strange. She doesn't hear Merrisol's request at first. Her brain has to fit this latest event into her established mythologies. Her axe is still buried into the back of the downed God for now and she's been watching the handle to see if it would twitch or rattle a chain. A glance towards Miriam as she quite responsibily prepares an executioners slice to the neck. She nods approvingly and then tears herself away and trudges over to Merrisol and Quinlan. The heat has baked a number of different crud onto her as well. Everyone walking around looking like walking wounded. Some literally are. She clears her throat, voice tiny when she murmers to the Mage and Warden. "Can't let't come back. It knows whut we did. Can't let it. Aye...chop't. Chop intah chum?" She eyes Maggie with some concern and crouches down by the strange net, hesitant to touch.
If he could move, the once-wolven god would probably be thrilled to help cut the golden hunter up, but for now it seems Vael has reverted back to his fox form and is still very much unconscious. His wolves meanwhile have found their place near him, licking their wounds and watching over their creator.
"Separate him into pieces... like god shards? Like Minos." Merrisol watches Quinlan's fingers work on golden skeins for a few dazed moments, then glances up, looking for Miriam. They.. they.. oh. He looks the other way, noting Vael slumped over where he'd tumbled down after the last friendly-fire incident. The sluggishly moving heaps of fur scattered around him draw his gaze next... blink... blinkblink. "Those glowy things must have...uh," he trails off, apologetically. "I think so, Princess. We're all breathing. That's usually a good enough sign," he smiles a bit at her, and his eyes drop down her willowly goo-caked figure to the sword placed at the back of the Hunter's neck. The axe in its back and the various slash and stabs that will not be closing up like they did in the Sea. "Wait.. divine backup plan? What is that and how much time do we have to do this?" This grisly deed. Behind the grime and spatter, he looks, well, sicker.
"And like Imagos, here in Alhambra," Quinlan agrees. His working of the golden net suggests that detangling people from it isn't a new thing for him. I'll leave 'why killing a god in combat doesn't actually really necessarily KILL it' to the gods present to explain better. But basically, a god can reform. Given time and the right resources and an open door. We've got to close that door, deny it the resources, and make sure *this* body stays forever beyond its reach." After a pause, he notes, "And since my magic isn't likely to pierce its hide, I will content myself with offering a bath to anyone that wants it and letting those with the proper cutting tools do the cutting."
Gerard lingers off the side, smoking a cigarette, seated on the ruined body of a long-dead giant scorpion.
Ruby looks up from where she crouches and balls some of the net Quinlan is detangling into her palm. Her fingers curl into it and she gives it an experimental squeeze. "Tha's bloody 'orrible. It can doo tha?" she curls her lip and then actually starts helping with the net rather than hindering with all her experimental touching and whatnot. "S'pose tha safer than just leavin tha body stuck through with weapons loike pincushion. Aye...Whut Merri said. Ow mooch toime we got b'fore it starts twitchin again?"
The Hunter's Net is fine gold threads, curiously tough and apparently uncuttable.
Miriam is watching the Hunter's body carefully for any sign of life or movement. Who knows what might cause it to re-animate. "If I can have th'eye, maybe I can use't somehow t'have a vision, if it does start t'return?" Something else seems to occur to her then, and her face scrunches a little in thought. "Is there any chance that some part've this god might be a good gift t'try to appease th'goddess in Minos?" Then Quinlan says the magic word - bath. She looks up at him, and while her eyes are still hidden behind her glasses one might easily imagine the longing there.
"If ye want to give her the message that she's next, sure." Gerard mutters around his cigarette.
Sullivan had been at the battle. People saw the animals coming back to assist against their former hunt mates. But the arrival of the Golden hunter itself had led to both the man and the mage in his deck chair to retreating out of obvious sight. Why they would leave when presumably they'd be most useful is hopefully something none have been thinking over, in the wake of its collapse. Heat of battle, distractions that that serves and all such things. It's A VERY weary god that walks through a shimmer of twisted air now, being supported by Brand. The custos blade is sheathed but the bone one remains out and peculiarly, is rhimed in ectoplasm and encrusted with flash-frozen blood. The man is twitching and muttering, bloody tears dried on his eyes and encrusted around his nose as he moves toward where the hunter has fallen. Any with magic senses at all, can -feel- the sheer amount of power that's radiating 'behind' the man as he walks, as if he were holding back an ocean with his own shadow. The bone blade is held out at a right angle from his body, steady as a rock as he walks, the edges parallel to the ground.
Brand had definitely disappeared from sight at the same time Sullivan had. And reappears, oh yes. Here, now, supporting his husband. No longer does he look amused or like he's on a beach vacation. Nope, now he looks grim and irritable.
Merrisol is holding Maggie cradled safe in one arm while Quinlan untangles the golden net that has her caught up. Mercifully, the lady was rendered unconscious from the previous ordeal. Merri has a trident, a golden twelve-footer of a polearm, held in his other hand, propping him up. He glances down at Ruby 'helping' with the process, then between Miriam and Quinlan and Gerard, the latter of whom just offered a truly salient point. "We were in Minos not two days ago.." he mutters "where that goddess is apparently being 'reborn'.. all her pieces must be accounted for. But.. she's nursing one hell of a grudge, Quinlan. It had taken her thousands of years to get all the pieces collected again.. which should be a consolation, but. I don't know." He shakes his head, voice going quieter. "She told me who did that to her in the first place, Quinlan. It wasn't just her children's children, the Stormbloods." His gaze flickers up from the mageling's detangling work on Maggie, seeking the source of that new voice in the still desert air.
"I want ye all to think about this very carefully." Gerard says, "For I do not think many of you are considering what claiming these parts will mean to ye personally or in the future. Divinity follows its own rules, and Elder Gods are no different. Each part is inherently of the power of Magic, and will call to its like wherever it goes. They can be powerful reagents when used, but they will draw attention to ye in ways that ye cannot immediately predict. They will draw the attention of those who also can feed on such things. The Vanir, the Portafada, the Dragons, or the Djinn... even the act of defeating him in battle may have butterfly ramifications, like tossing a pebble." He pantomimes the act, before rocking backwards. "Keep that in min' before ye start thinking this is just a victory lap."
Quinlan gently advises Miriam, "Hold your breath and count. You'll be safe to breathe again by ten," and casts a spell that briefly encapsulates the Tirian in a sphere of swirling, scrubbing warm water. All the blood, dust, ichor and general goo is pulled into the agitating water...which then prompty evaporates, taking the dirt and other impurities with it and leaving the woman within clean and dry. Quinlan's attention then turns to Merrisol. "Noting that we want to make sure *this* god doesn't ever get its pieces back, because we want to avoid a repeat of Minos' situation, who is the Lady of Minos mad at?"
Well, healing potions did /something/, though Mercier's chest is still sore enough to inhibit his breathing. He adjusts the dressing on his wounded arm and walks slowly towards the party surrounding the God, or what's left of him, peering at the corpse. He approaches from a different direction then Brand of Sullivan. Glancing down he shakes his head at the tall body, "That's it then? Well, I don't see what all the fuss was about." He says, with an edge of gallows sarcasm. There were dead men on the field after all. He glances to Merrisol, "Who? I'm starting to see a pattern with half the 'gods' I've met. They don't seem to have overriding concerns for welfare of their lessers." He looks to Gerard for a moment, and shakes his head, "Damn the complexity of this place."
Miriam listens as Merrisol explains some about the goddess in Minos, and then to Gerard as he says his piece. She nods slowly, apparently understanding what he's saying. Then, Quinlan tells her to hold her breath and she does as asked. She's obviously startled by the strange bath, but then that expression becomes one of great happiness. Cleeeeeeean. So clean. So much happier. "You are a treasure." she says to Quinlan, then returns to the subject of Minos. "I... know't sounds icky, but'f she couldn't find every piece maybe something she's missing could be replaced by a piece off this one? Is that th'worst or dumbest idea ever?" she asks, obviously really not understanding how it all works.
Ruby rises up, fingers in a stupid mess of golden threads. A glance between Quinlan and Merrisol. "It ain't me she should be mad at. I 'ad nuthin tah doo aboot nuthin." She shuffles her feet. "Stormbloods?!" Ruby plays catchup and shakes her head from side to side while more educated sorts speak on important matters. She turns next towards Gerard and what she hears does absolutely nothing to reduce her anxiety. "This wasn't my idea. Truth. I just 'ere tah 'elp oot. I let gods lay, roight? Lay'r doo what they doo. This...self-defense. Aye...Loike it was us or 'im. An 'iz bloody batch 'o insane monstahs." she huffs and puffs. "I ain't gonna git butterfried. We chop this buggah gud. We drop parts intah vol-ca-noo."
Vael stirs slightly, curling up with a wince before lifting his head slightly, his eyes opening but only just barely. He takes one look at the Golden Hunter, then frowns and coughs slightly, a few droplets of blood escaping his maw. He looks somewhat dazed.
Sullivan's steps take him closer and closer to the hunter. It is as if each footfall is laboured, a strain to keep moving, but he must, for not to move is to die! He stumbles on drawing closer but does not fall down, his voice heard: "...stab the heart, the true heart, got to see it... I have to -see- it..." swiping one hand at the crusted blood, it crumbles and evaporates into ash when it leaves his vicinity. "....can see the death, the life that still clings... Oh Brand, I need you =and= Gerard..." the sword trembles. He seems to be ignoring just about everyone, might not even be seeing them.
Quinlan nods to Ruby with a smile. "Yeah. A part or two in lava. And when you guys are done claiming what you need, I fully intend on taking the rest to Karm, to bury under as many different Seals in different Shadows as necessary." Finished with the net, he gets to his feet and heads over to the body of the god. Sniffing the air, he turns to look at Sullivan...relieved? He gets a firm, approving nod, anyway. For his own part...it looks like he's gathering a small flask of the god's blood. "I'm going to need this," he says quietly. "Got to take his resources away from him - and that means tracking back to the source." Raising his voice, he asks, "Harper...with blood on the knife, can you backtrack this god's course? Do we need to get Moxon too?"
Brand is not ignoring anybody around him and Sullivan, though a great many of them get glared at. A few don't. Quinlan, Gerard, and Harper are a few who don't. He nods to Quinlan about the blood, and to Sullivan at his request, and raises his voice, "Gerard! Sullivan and I need your help."
"Jus' ask a Karm, or a Mandrake. Everythin' connects." Gerard says with a smirk. "An' whatever the reasons, I'm just here to see that everything is resolved neatly, and if there are dangling little strings, they're well-guarded." He moves to collect Vael, the tiny fox god rolled over onto his back. "'ey little buddy, ye gotta bleed out, or are you coming to?" He's no Mandrake, but he's capable enough with field medicine. At the call from others, he squints, looking up as he pulls the scarf around his nose and mouth down.
Gamil produces a very very odd bottle or jar. "We shall crack it open now?" he says with a sussurating cracking chuckle like sand through broken stone.
RPG: Gamil declares that he owns this token:
-------------------------------------------------------------------[ D8M ]----
Author: Meijanri Held By: Gamil
Date: Sat Jul 21 21:21:31 2012 Focus: 3
Title: Sanguineous Cardaeum
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Created via Conceptual Flask (REC-CF): power-token rechargeable special token-3 type-magic
Gift description:
This flask is formed from glass, but it does not quite seem to adhere to a firmly three-dimensional geometry, with inclusions and turns that fool the eye and cause headaches if followed. Such a bottle is capable of holding any conceivable liquid, making it safe to handle regardless of temperature, corrosivity, or toxicity. Additionally, each bottle is capable of holding one specific non-liquid, defined when the token is created. This can be concrete, such as trapping breathable air or sunlight, or more esoteric, including speech, thoughts, or even an unbound spirit. The contents may be useful, but are never directly applicable to combat, so a flask of fire might make for an excellent lantern or a campfire where there is no wood to burn, but it will not serve as a grenade, and it can not hold more than a scene's worth of contents, so a flask of air will suffice for a long swim, but not an underwater existence. The token is expended to release the contents, and recharged to refill it - depending on the selected contents, filling or refilling might also be worth an interesting scene in its own right.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Token Description
This large, elongated bottle is oddly lobed, ventricose and asymmetrical, its smooth and natural curves bringing to mind those of a seed pod or organ. It has a wide mouth with a thick stopper fastened to the vessel with leather cord, which wraps haphazardly along the length of the bottle, securing a set of randomly placed rings from which it may be suspended and carried. A set of old iron chain hangs between several of the rings, rattling when the bottle is jostled. It looks roughly big enough to hold a gallon of fluid.
That, however, is not its purpose. Instead, this jar can hold any sort of heart. It doesn't matter the source or freshness so long as it is only the heart. When filled, the bottle appears packed tight with dense, dark red muscle that seems to pulsate of its own accord from time to time, furthering the item's resemblance to some unholy cut of severed muscle.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
RPG: Gamil used the following +declare targets: Rub al Kali: The Forsaken Desert - Alhambra
Vael chuckles just barely, his eyes snapping shut as he winces as a result. "I'll be fine.." he says quietly, then looks again to the golden hunter and muses, "Save me a piece of the bastard.." yup, he's still slightly dazed.
Miriam continues to hold her salve-covered Pattern Sword at the throat of the Hunter. Just in case. It was, uh, set down briefly, while she was being bathed. Yeah, that's it. Now, the very clean princess dressed mostly in white is mostly focused again on the body at her feet, though obviously curious what the others are up to.
Merrisol turns and stares wordlessly at Gerard, apparently distracted by the speech; just, that guy has a chilling way with words. He glances the prone god too, then away, since Miriam is getting a magical scrub and fluff nearby. He doesn't say anything to the idea of swapping out parts between deities like they were junkers in a Begman shop. "It's in the report," he says simply to the question of who, looking to Mercier with a nod over the man's newly mobile state. "This is not our legacy. Thank you, Quin," he says gratefully when the last of the knots is freed, and he lets Ruby help extricate the rest from around his wife while he watches the strange and royalish procession towards the Hunter. Since Quinlan appears to be accepting of it, Merrisol notes to Ruby, "Fine work with those bolts and blades, and Brother Bayle with his recipes. Perhaps we'll gather them up and put them somewhere safe for a future 'just in case'." And they shall call it..... The Justin Case!
Sullivan hisses. "Blood will not last. Quinlan, wait... wait..." but it's a hasty, almost snappish declaration on the part of the pale man. He does not look up to Gerard or to anyone, eyes firm on the hunter and staying put. Guiding Brand by a means that seems to be nearly instinctual, he kneels by the side of the hunter and places his left hand upon its chest, moving slowly down the body, along its torso. Lower and lower, until he seems to stop, staring at a place just to the right of where the heart would be in a human being and down -- the junction of stomach heart, base of lungs, spleen and pancreas, to the hollow where all those organs are in very close proximity -- "There," he mutters, lowering the sword to that spot and pressing the very tip against flesh. "Can't do this on my own." But both hands take a grip on the bone blade's hilt. "Hold and push with me...." this apparently an instruction to the Princes abounding "...it is probably going to resist. My soul would. It's soul will..." and then looking down at that spot "...time to go, it is your time to go. I remember. I remember, old one. Time to go..." whispering down into sub-vocalization.
Quinlan pauses - he's done this kind of thing enough to know that if one has an expert along, it's stupid to argue with them - and lets Sullivan do what ..ever it is he's doing. Purely out of curiosity, the mage's eyes shift silver, and he studies the body. Of course, that isn't really helpful, but curiosity is hard to chain.
Justin gets some helpers to make Mercier comfortable /again/ on a stretcher while he gets another stretcher and hurries over to Maggie so that Merrisol can get her comfortable on it. "Set her down...please." He directs at Merrisol. "I can help. I can help." He assures. He glances over to where Brand, Sullivan and Miriam are and looks about to call over but he doesn't. To himself he mutters. "Would have been much easier to remember, Joe. Why don't Gods have normal names?" He shakes his head returns his attention to Maggie. "Ahh... right. People to heal. Unicorn's mercy." He concentrates on Maggie now. If there is extra brains to scoop in a tube and pickle later he'll be happy to receive them but he's unconcerned with bodypart collecting right this moment. Maggie's body more important. Not for collecting body parts, of course.
Quinlan pauses - he's done this kind of thing enough to know that if one has an expert along, it's stupid to argue with them - and lets Sullivan do what ..ever it is he's doing. Purely out of curiosity, the mage's eyes shift silver, and he studies the body. Of course, that isn't really helpful, but curiosity is hard to chain.
Justin gets some helpers to make Mercier comfortable /again/ on a stretcher while he gets another stretcher and hurries over to Maggie so that Merrisol can get her comfortable on it. "Set her down...please." He directs at Merrisol. "I can help. I can help." He assures. He glances over to where Brand, Sullivan and Miriam are and looks about to call over but he doesn't. To himself he mutters. "Would have been much easier to remember, Joe. Why don't Gods have normal names?" He shakes his head returns his attention to Maggie. "Ahh... right. People to heal. Unicorn's mercy." He concentrates on Maggie now. If there is extra brains to scoop in a tube and pickle later he'll be happy to receive them but he's unconcerned with bodypart collecting right this moment. Maggie's body more important. Not for collecting body parts, of course.
Brand nods agreement to his brother. "Gerard is right. Everything is connected. Sometimes, it's just a matter of not being able to see the connections." As to this god versus the god in Minos, Brand doesn't comment, though he looks for a moment disapproving. He glances to Gerard and motions to him. "Please?" He asked nicely, at least. He places his hands upon the blade Sullivan has set into a certain spot, and pushes as he's bidden.
Ruby actually smiles when Quinlan approves of one of her suggestions. Lava is awfully good. A little over the top for Toss-me-nots, but usually thorough. "Aye..." she holds up her hand, blood circulation hampered in her net-entwined fingers. She gives some serious thought. "I not take any parts 'o tha bloody thing." She sees something grave and important going down by the body. She asides to Merrisol as Maggie is removed from the clutches of the netting, "...But I'll take this bloody net. Tha ain't 'is body. Not 'old grudge against me." To say her gaze does /not/ move to the Trident would be a lie. "Aye...net. Aye...Merri, let me 'old tha for ya. 'Elp Joostin with Maggah. Yer wife."
Gerard knuckles Vael on the head now that he's determined that the ole' fox will survive, pushing up from his kneeling position to join Sullivan and Brand. Though he is a mess as well, he barely seems to breathe hard as he looks between the two. He grips the pommel, prepared to use his strength to press down. That's why he's here right? Even amongst the elders someone has to be the dumb muscle. "I don't have to do any of that chanting nonsense do I, lads?"
Mercier looks distinctly displeased to be placed on a stretcher, but its easier to breath at least. He continues to listen to the conversation around him lieing on the ground. At Ruby's notation of self-defense, he comments simply, "Bosun, we did this. We own the consequences of our actions, grudges and all. This was worth our lives, I'm certain its worth a bit of bad luck later on." He gives a nod to Merrisol's mention of a report, before moving up on his elbows, looking towards the body, "What mad thing are they doing now?"
RPG: Sullivan declares he is consuming token eel:
-------------------------------------------------------------------[ eel ]----
Author: Robert Held By: Sullivan
Date: Fri Oct 17 10:09:15 2014 Focus: 3
Title: Viper Blade
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Created via Blade of Feldane (REC-BF): power-token rechargeable special token-3 type-magic
Gift description:
These swords are the legacy of Feldane, requiring a little bit of the blood of the house in their construction. These weapons can take many forms, but they must be bladed and suited to hand to hand combat, with swords being the preferred mode.
Without expending the token, this blade can interact with ghosts and spirits as if they were solid, though it has no special bonus in that regard.
By expending the token when the sword is used to kill someone, their soul is trapped in the blade rather than passing on as it should. A sword can only hold one soul, and the presence of a soul in the blade grants no direct bonus, though necromancers might have a use for it.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Secondary gift used: Bonecrafting (NEC-BC): doom necro type-magic
Gift description:
This character is capable of enchanting bones. This grants him the following initial abilities:
* He is able to, on demand, shape a bone pile into an inanimate object that could be reasonably made of jointed bones. For instance, he could command a pile of bones form itself into a chair, and it would rise up and do so. This can be posed for additional color effects, such as a bone chair that is capable of animating so it wraps bony fingers around the occupant's wrists, holding him down.
* He is able to wield weapons of bone that are no more breakable than steel. This is true even if he improvises; for instance, if he grabs a femur to use as a club, it is no more likely to break than a steel-shod mace. This is a color effect.
* He is capable of raising and animating a skeleton that is slightly tougher than usual.
In each of these cases, the bones must be available to construct whatever it is, the duration of the effect is a single scene or fight, and the bones collapse back to being normal bones thereafter. The construct may potentially be used to justify a bonus, such as the skeleton helping out in a fight, an unexpected bone weapon giving an edge, a bone shield offering protection, a bone construct helping to hold a creature, and so forth.
Note: This gift is likely to receive a very, very bad response in Amber, and as such is mostly suited to villains or players with a low expectancy of life for the character.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Token Description
This sword is crafted of a single piece of bone of the purest white which is wholly at odds from the bad vibes that the weapon gives off. It is a simple thing, with a straight unadorned blade, with a cross hilt to protect the user and a straight handle. The cross hilt is carved in the form of two entwined snakes,their bodies wrapping over each other and around the blade with their heads mouths open and hissing at either end. The handle is carved with abundant vines which are smoothly done and intricate enough to give the user plenty of grip, without being uncomfortable when held. The pommel is another coiled snake, done in breathtaking detail with all of it's scales worked into the bone and two bright green eyes picked out in gemstones.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
RPG: Sullivan used the following +token/use targets: Rub al Kali: The Forsaken Desert - Alhambra
Merrisol is holding the trident that Ruby is eyeballing, to establish a fact. Distracted from listening to her sly remarks, he nods to Justin as the man comes hurrying with a handy stretcher. Soooo, he'll need two hands to help gurney his wife and folk around. Except, of course, he can't walk so good right now - that's why he's using the trident like a staff, see. "Right." He juggles his armfull of Maggie a bit awkwardly, then looks at Ruby as she very neatly offers to hold the Hunter's golden trident. He looks down at her empty hand, and then at her hand clutching the Hunter's golden net. Two particles wandering around the empty space of his mind kind of bump into each other then, sparking. "Thanks, Ruby." He smiles, shifts his weight to heft the gleaming instrument upwards. He steps back from Ruby and pivots so he can give the polearm two deft wrist-twirls in his hand, sweeping a bit of sand as he completes the arc backwards and slides the shaft of the trident into the back harness that his harpoon used to occupy. "I've got it, though." He tips a wink at the forgemistress and goes on to apply both hands to settling Maggie's body gently over the stretcher. "Brother Bayle.." he wonders in a hush with a tip of his head in the direction of the group gathered around the god's bod, with that bone sword. "What are they doing, do you know?"
Sullivan simply nods, looking briefly into Brand's eyes. And then, he looks down at what he's doing: "Now," the blade does not want to go in. It really does not. But there's something to be said for who is guiding it and who is -forcing- it. The mightiest of men and the protege of dworkin, assisting Death to do his duty. The tip penetrates, the whispering continues, then something akin to the ice of the Between places, in the trumps, rushes up and through and around and /in/. It's not even beyond the pale, to suggest that the air in the desert becomes as cold as the glaciers for a moment or two, three, four and .... then silence.
Brand glances up briefly and over to the scene around Maggie. And Ruby. With the net. Eyeballing the trident. "Um." For a brief moment, Brand's eyes widen a very faint bit, and there's no glowering there as Brand is apparently struck speechless. "Unless you want us all to have to do this all over again, I really wouldn't do that if I were you," he says. And then the danger is over, as the trident goes to a much more practical location. Brand releases a puff of breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and goes back to focusing on Sullivan and Gerard. Now? Now. He pushes. And then shivers in the aftermath.
The sword though, buries itself up to the hilt through the torso.
As the bone blade enters the corpse, a brilliant yet fragile greenish light floods the area around the Elders and the body. But it's not emanating from the blade - rather, it's as if the light is only visible because the blade is drawing it in, concentrating it. Until yes, the bone blade is blindingly bright, the greenish light so brilliant as to be indistinguishable from sunlight. And then ...even that is sucked into the blade, and it is simple bone once more. Or...well. Not 'simply' bone. But deceptively so.
Gamil watches, just watches his eyes fogged over like a corpses eyes. He holds his jar and crouches watching Sulivan and the Hunter. He seems to be almost enraptured.
Quinlan puts his hands over his eyes for a few minutes. That was not, really, the best effect to be near ground zero for. "...I am, just for the record, really glad you came along on this trip."
Vael keeps his eyes shut for the blinding light and when it fades, he opens them again and tilts his head slightly before giving a slight nod.
Ruby eyes Merrisol very, very intently. Her jaw is clenched quite hard. Her hand extends even a little bit more. Beckoning. De-nied. Her face visibly falls, jaw hinging a bit to the left as Merrisol keeps possession of the big, hard, long, multi-pronged thing. She hisses out a tight lungful of air and then is having to shield her eyes, using the same gimmie-gimmie hand to try and protect her vision.
Gerard might be expected to remove his hands from the blade, and allow Brand or Sullivan to claim it. So, when he does not? Hmm.
Miriam looks fascinated as all of this is done, when she's able to focus. Her expression kind of fades in and out during it all. Seers, right? She shivers a bit, but says nothing as the others deal with the Hunter.
Merrisol grunts as he goes to one knee, partially from lack of crutch, but really meaning to shield Maggie's delicate eyelids as the green light splashes across them. He angles his shoulders so he doesn't go prodding Justin with the trident angling up from his back, and throws his other arm over his eyes. Blinking cautiously as he peeks up over his elbow at the buried blade, he looks from Gerard to Sullivan, and back, waiting.
Justin first instinct was, of course, was to take some of the God with him. What glorious things he could create! In the back of his head the warning bells from Gerard's words sink in. What's going on over there? He rolls the question over in his mind and sets the answer to the side as he starts working on Maggie. "Precious lady...give thee light." He murmurs and does a bit of cutting here and there careful to preserve Maggie's modesty. A potion is poured over a wound here and there once the most severe areas are tended to he finally answers Merrisol's question. "They are preparing the Golden Hunter to be rendered is my guess." He delivers with a sage little nod. He looks up at Merrisol. "The Lady's blessing is upon your beloved, my friend. She will heal and be whole again... just as your man." He indicates Templeton. "We must make them comfortable. Whereas, I could take some of the God and do things with it, it's probably best to destroy him. I have what is truly needed for said desctruction to be permanent but I'm not sure that now is the right time to discuss it. You look like you could use some help too, am i right?"
Mercier reviews the conflict between Merrisol and Ruby for a moment, before his attention is drawn back to the work the gods and demigods dealing with that... particular problem, as light and temperature do strange things. He frowns at the sight, "Fallen Fords..." He notes under his breath, covering his eyes with one arm. And then its over. He sluffs down onto the stretcher again, providing a sigh. Hearing Justin refer to him as a particular thing, he addresses the man, "Milord, I am not the Captain's agent, for the sake of semantics."
Gamil blinks his eyes several times the foggy death draining from them now that there isn't so much to watch on that side of the veil of life. Now he crouches with his odd jar and watches the elders and the god doing their deeds.
Returning from a 'just in case all that blood and sun baked meat smell wafting over the desert is attracting other denizens' scouting trip around the battlefield's periphery, Harper does not have to shield her eyes as she missed the glare. Lucky her, huh? Standing on a bluff above the doings, she keeps an arrow notched in case more preditors decide to show up to steal the Ghul's rightful feast.
Quinlan looks up at...well, his elders and one elder-mate. "We can dissect it safely now?" he asks. "I'm all for some of these body parts being boiled for stew, or potions, or whatever. The harder it is for them to regather and reconstitute the better." More quietly, he says, "That's a lot of power to lock into bone. Bone breaks."
Sullivan's breath exhales in a long sigh. Using the fingertip of his right hand, he dips it in the blood of the hunter and studies the corpse for a few moments with his eyes glowing red as blood. Then, as if coming to his senses from a very tiring experience, he nods to Gerard. "Thank you. Hold it there. It may still try and fight." With that said, he starts tracing 'cut along the dotted line' shapes on the hunter's body, with specific care and attention. "Bone is stronger than steel. Lasts longer, Quinlan. You should know this. We can dig up the dirt and find bone that is thousands of years old, ossified remains becoming petrified. For such things, /bone/ works better. Iron rusts. Gold melts. Silver tarnishes. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust, all that remains of us, in the end, are the bones. You should cut here. And it'll take a while."
RPG: Sullivan declares that he has the Hit Where It Hurts (LIF-HH) gift. Use '+gift LIF-HH' to view the gift description.
RPG: Sullivan used the following +declare targets: Quinlan
Brand, on the other hand, removes his hands from the blade. Blades are not his thing. He had closed his eyes during the light show, and now blinks them several times. He does, however, look between Sullivan and Gerard as the other Prince doesn't relinquish the blade into Sullivan's care. He's distracted by Quinlan and nods. "I'd like something. I was thinking an eye. I have a project." He glances at Sullivan and considers. "Though, I think maybe a finger bone will work better for what I need it for."
Quinlan steps back, to let the blade masters have free rein. "I only need a flask of fresh blood," he says, a bit tiredly. "So that I can go with some Rangers back to this jerk's home shadow and finally, *finally*, fireball something that won't bounce it right back at me. Namely, every last one of this jerk's temples."
RPG: Sullivan gives token elq with the title 'Golden Vial' to you.
-------------------------------------------------------------------[ ELQ ]----
Author: Sullivan Held By: Quinlan
Date: Tue May 26 21:24:43 2015 Focus: 0
Title: Golden Vial
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Created via Fresh Blood (VIT-FB): token-0 type-magic
Gift description:
Many blood magics require a fresh supply of blood. This character has learned a spell of preservation that allows him to keep blood fresh, by placing it in a special vial. This allows him to have a supply of fresh blood on hand, without having to immediately let it at the time of use. Preserved blood of this sort can substitute for fresh blood in all cases except where "on-the-spot bloodletting" is specified.
Blood is one of the strongest forms of arcane connection to a target. Truly fresh blood is stronger than preserved fresh blood, which is in turn stronger than dried blood.
The character is always assumed to have some of his own blood at hand. Other blood should be represented by a 0-Focus token at the time of collection; if this is taken from a player character, that player should sign the token.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Token Description
This vial appears to be a fairly ordinary vial of blood, for achemical and other purposes. Its quality is not above normal, but the stopper has been burned with some glyphs of significant meaning and the sides are encrusted in runes of blood. The blood within it looks fresh and will not rot. There is a vague scent, to those that can detect magic, of Blood and Divine magics.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Once the potions and prayers have been offered, Maggie stirs. Her eyes flutter open and she draws in a long, painful breath. "Kerf?" Turning, she seeks her husband out of the glare from the sky, "You okay?" Her voice is barely above a whisper, hushed and pained but there.
Miriam watches as Sullivan frames out shapes on the Hunter, then thinks. "I don't think I have th'strength t'carve it up. My sword should be able, though. Someone else can use't?" she suggests, looking at the others. "Ruby?" she suggests, since Gerard is holding it down with that other sword.
Ruby squints and peers over at the gathering at the body as they do strange rituals and the like. The opinion on bones versus steel has her doing the old squinty frowny face even moreso. She mutters something under her breath and turns her gaze towards Maggie. Ruby offers a grin and moves away from Maggie and the Tri..Merrisol. With adrenaline seeping away, along with the benefits, the downside asserts itself more strongly. And the smells of this battlefield.
Sullivan finishes up the 'cut along these lines' dots of blood and sits back upon his haunches, looking unbelievably tired. He holds his hands out for Quinlan's vial and if given it, daubs it with some of the blood he himself has been leaking. It seems significant -- particularly as drawing glyphs upon the stopper actually seems to burn the rubber. He hands it back to the mage with a nod and simply stares at the blade that runs through the carcass. "You all have perhaps a cycle of the moon, before I have to send it through. Make sure its temples are levelled and the ground salted and rehallowed, in the wake. Burning a god's temple to the ground is... sad. It is necessary, but... give it the respect afterwards. A true Wake." He looks briefly at Brand, too tired to actually make any suggestions right now.
Brand considers. Things. There are things! He looks to Sullivan, listens to what he has to say, and back to Quinlan. "Actually, the teeth would probably work better. The canines at the very least, but the whole set if nobody else is after them."
Harper glances down to watch the people mucking about near the Golden Hunter's body. As bits are removed, she stands impassively. Butchering a kill is apparently butchering a kill. That the kill looks as human as it does seems to be beside the point. Maybe the Ranger has developed a bit of a sociopathic side.
Quinlan accepts his vial of blood, and steps clear of the corpse to go sit near Harper, and possibly also Vael. The vial gets tucked away in his things with a sigh. "Sounds like we need to bring a god willing to take over that holy ground," he says. "If you can find it?"
Merrisol nods over Justin's explanation. "Rendering," he repeats distastefully, his attention falling back to Maggie's exposed wounds, looking for the effects of the friar's work. Then.. distracted by Mercier's reaction to what was probably a colloquial phrasing on the Bayle's part. "Right. Not my agent. Or my man, Friar Justin," he says with a smile, "I mean, I like him. But we're not together.. although we are, quite a bit." Say no more, Merri. Please! "Ah," he's distracted by Maggie's stirring, and headtilts as he gazes down at her. "Hey Hotstuff." He lifts his hand and grazes his fingertips down her jaw. "I'm fine.. I will be," he admits, "once Brother Bayle can administer to me. I should ask Quinlan to hose me down first, though.. or you'd never be sure what's coming out of me and what's just... stuck to me," he smirks, before his attention draws momentarily over to the other group once more, thoughtful. "They've done something to the Hunter to keep it from coming back too easily," he updates Maggie, softly. He sifts errant curls from her forehead, soothing, while he says, "Quinlan says they'll be making shards out of it."
Gamil seems to know what the hell he's doing dressing out a human. He uses his blade that was enchanted to cut the god specificly to do the work. SO long as no one objects to the dressing out being done by someone with a good amount of skill. He even has wide mouthed jars. He has a frame built in short order to bleed the god out.
Gerard is forced to stand there with a bland expression on his face, pinning the body to the ground while people spill entrails and blood over his boots.
Vael gives Quinlan a glance and muses, "It may be easier for another god of the hunt to take what he once claimed." with a sigh, his wounds having already started the healing process by now. "If you can find it, I wouldn't mind giving it a try."
Quinlan nods to Vael, and indicates Harper. "I think she can, with this," and he indicates his vial of blood. "Rangers get some very good tracking skills and it'll be a long trip." He waves toward Sullivan. "She said we can't just torch the place. It's got to be...reconsecrated. So a 'to somebody' is probably handy." There is, though, that in the mage's tone that suggests that SOME of the time Sullivan's efforts have bought them is going to be spent on long and much needed sleep.
"Ah, I see." Justin looks between Merrisol and Mercier with a smile. "Comrades, then..." He pauses, nods, "on occasion." He glances towards where the God is. "At first I thought I might take a part of him but then I remembered the lady's teachings and though I know what I could do with it... it does not mean I should." He gestures to the leg. "Sit yourself down, Captain Merrisol. I do not need you to be clean to tend you. Unicorn... you're a stubborn one." His eyes twinkle slightly at that. "Miss Ruby, if you are hiding wounds, please stop doing so and tell me about them." While he waits patiently for Merrisol to comply he smiles at Maggie. "Do not move quickly, please. Your wounds are great and you must rest."
"Save it, lass." Gerard says to Miriam, "Spare spending alot of time cleaning it."
Miriam looks around, still holding her Pattern Sword, coated with the salve that will help it cut through a god. It seems as though the job is hers, and so she makes a bit of a face before setting to it. So much for her freshly-cleaned clothes as she carefully uses Sullivan's dotted lines as a guide. She's obviously never butchered anything before, so it should be interesting.
Gerard says, "Well, don't throw up on the body at least."
Miriam looks uncertain that she won't throw up.
Gamil once he has the blood drained out. "Do people have their own way to carry their meat or shall I supply honey and pouches for the organs and meat and pouches for the bones?" he asks, his voice doesn't raise above a conversational tone, it never does. He does slide the large jars full of blood to one side and corks them so they don't go bad too quickly.
Ruby starts bundling up the fine netting into a more transportable wad. It's hard not to be distracted by the gory details going on over yonder. Justin's direct question has her turning towards him with a curled lip. "Not 'idin nuthin." she rasps and continues her biz. "I be back..." she mentions with almost a drawl and approaches the body that's being sectioned. Stowing the golden stuff in a loop like a bandoleer, she eyes those present at the carving ceremony and watches on, looking down her nose as something eldritch and purportedly unkillable is rendered down. "Huh...So this means, nuthin sacred, aye?" Her eyes are on the corpse, but somewhat glazed over.
"Ya know, for someone who is forced to resort to cannabalism to survive, ye seem to have an abudance of stuff." Gerard says. "Ruby, hold this blade." Apparently he's had enough. Here, you do it!
Miriam has left the carving of the god to the man with more experience. She says quietly to Gamil "I have'n interest in th'remaining eye, please."
Maggie smiles up at Merrisol, completely focused on him at the moment. She blushes a bit at the touch of his hand, though lifting her own to capture his turns out to be a non-starter. Any comments she might add to Merrisol's description of Mercier are mercifully lost when she hears that Merrisol is actually injured. "Okay." Her failure to instantly jump up and find the good Friar is testimony to her injuries. Even with prayre, potions and her father's blood, she is not yet in any condition to move, "Uh. Ew? Though a bath sounds great, to be honest. Are... we going to have to take a shard, do you think? I could lock it in the goulish safe with the head." Head? She has a head in a safe? The faintly bleary sound of her voice might allow some to go with the saner thought that she is drugged. Or that the Hunter's net scrambled her brains.
Sullivan nods to Brand, "Set of pliars is all you need for the teeth. They're designed to come out, if necessary. Applied force will use the hunter's own essence to pop them free of their housings..." You don't pull teeth, despite the misnomer of the phrase, you actually push'm to make'm pop off the bone! Gazing at the butchering work with the dispassion of someone that knows the soul has gone and this is but flesh. He lays a hand upon the body though, where Gamil is bleeding it and stares. The blood... the blood obeys him, moving along the channels as if pumped still by a living heart.
Gamil shrugs "Having jars and pouches, and even honey are not enough to survive, it is what you do with them." he says "My Sept was whiped out save for me and my Hala, and she came after the deaths. I am a sept unto myself, and I have a septs resources, I have not had to kill for water in many years. I can be generous to those who have slain a god."
Mercier snorts as Merrisol bandies a number of words together, unphased. "The appropriate term, in my particular trade, is associate." He notes to both the Friar and the Captain, "It encompasses the sometimes." He glances again to the carving of the body, shaking his head, "We do what we must. Somehow, I think they're intentions are beyond that. Grisely rewards... I do hope they're worth it."
Ruby looks to Gerard as if she was asked to hold one of Dirk's penguins. She steps forward and places her hands to where he had previously been holding the strange weapon while grim business is done. Temporarily.
Harper remains on the bluff above the battlefield. While others are covered in goo, the Ranger is not. The benefits of ranged weapons go beyond death from afar. They also keep their weilders out of the gunk.
Gerard climbs up out of the giblet pit, nodding at Harper.
Quinlan waves to Gerard as he joins them. And casually uses a few spells to convert some sand into sandstone goblets...which he then fills with water. Mmm. Gulpity gulp. Enough to share.
Gamil starts parting out the god. The first thing he does is take out the organs, the god's heart going into his odd twisted jar to slowly pulse and beat preserved indefinately until he needs it. Other meat and organs and skin go into honeyd poutches for those who haven't their own way of preserveing god meat or organs. The bones he seperates, doleing out as required. He doesn't even gnaw them first. "Any here who wish it, may come to me and I will mark them hunter." he says "Show such a mark to any Ghul and you will recieve the hospitality of the sept."
Miriam watches, looking a little ill at it all but also apparently having a hard time looking away. She asks Gamil "Mark? What sort've mark?" When he separates the undamaged eye and stows it, she'll ask quietly for the thing.
Harper nods back to Gerard, a smile offered, "Your Highness. Hello." She is still on guard duty, in her own mind, but a friendly conversation is never amiss.
Sullivan waits until the body has been suitably dismembered, to slowly draw the boneblade out of its housing through the torso and into the desert sands. That of course, leaves torso access much easier and heart removal. "The teeth can all go in a pouch, no doubt," is murmured to Gamil, Death rises and ambles his way slowly and wearily to the injured, at whom he just stares. Someone's brain just ran out of thoughts, perhaps? The blood on the blade though, sneaks up it and up onto the man's arm, travelling away from the bone.