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melodiesofeternity2018-11-16 11:26 am
sassafrisk) wrote in melodiesofeternity2018-11-16 11:26 am
Player Plot: Winter Isn't Coming, it's Already Here
Who: Everybody who signed up for the event.
When: November 23rd-30th
Where: The Uncharted Territories
What: Frisk leads an expedition into the North to try and find Hades. It doesn't go well.
Warnings/Notes: Post a toplevel to each of the segments below if you want. Encounters will be posted under the appropriate toplevel. For combat, I'd appreciate it if you put where your putting your passive job stat boosts in the subject line of your first post, plus any other boosts your character may have. Thank you!
THE STAGING GROUND (DAY ONE)
The directions that the volunteers have been sent over mail lead to a chocobo ranch just a day away from Armstrong Fort. For a groundbreaking journey into the unknown, the staging ground for Frisk’s expedition isn’t all that impressive. A quaint, if run-down, farmhouse lies next to the chocobos’ grazing patch, where Frisk can be seen arguing with a surly-looking Elezen. White chocobos coo at the new arrivals next to a mound of barely organized high-quality camping gear, staring at them curiously (or blankly, depending on how much intelligence to ascribe to chocobos). It’s a brisk November morning, and the cold bites into marrow of one’s bones as frost-encrusted dead grass crunches beneath the chocobos’ feet. Bleak grey clouds block out the sun, threatening snow but never quite delivering. Resignation and bleakness permeate the air. This certainly isn’t an auspicious start to an already dubious quest.
INTO THE VAST (DAY ONE)
The first day of the expedition is, in a word, boring. Dreary, depressing, monotonous, and several other words of similar caliber would also be apt descriptors. The moody weather doesn’t change through the long hours of plodding towards Armstrong Fort, the clouds oscillating between grey and sullen, and black and intimidating; but always refusing to actually burst and bring down snow on the party’s head. Not even random encounters deign to make an appearance to spice up the day, due to the extensive efforts of Tark Varentain’s military. Perhaps the only redeeming factor of this first day is that the flat terrain and docile chocobos make the actual riding of the birds a breeze, with only the most inept of chocobo riders--such as Frisk--falling off or bruising their rumps through other means. With MogNet reception growing spottier as the team approaches the Claus Snowfields, the only way to pass the time is with conversation.
ARMSTRONG FORT (NIGHT ONE)
When Armstrong Fort appears on the horizon near sundown, it brings a sudden change in weather. Snowflakes begin falling from the sky, increasing in numbers and force as the expedition party makes its way towards the imposing fortress. After just thirty minutes, it’s nearly impossible to see ten feet past your chocobo’s beak. Thankfully, the white chocobos are used to such conditions, so the expedition party still makes good time. The party arrives at Armstrong Fort an hour after the inclement weather begins, and they’re greeted by grim guards who refuse to let them in after a solid fifteen minutes of arguing with Frisk, despite the permit for lodging that they display.
Inside, the fort is just as bleak as the outside, although in a significantly different way. Primarily elezen and human soldiers huddle around sputtering fires on the walls, peering through the snowstorm looking for any signs of monsters. The cries of the wounded echo from the medical hall, although all of the soldiers remain stoic even to their comrades’ pain. If pressed, one of the guards will begrudgingly explain that without a regular shipment of mana potions, their healers often can’t use magic on every wounded soldier, forcing them to do it the old-fashioned way.
The empty bunks that the volunteers are escorted to are uncomfortable, cold, and barren, but it’s marginally better than sleeping on the floor. Marginally. But whatever slumber the party gets is interrupted at one in the morning, when a pack of ferocious yetis attacks the walls. The soldiers stationed at Armstrong Fort are used to such assaults and don’t need any help fending off the monsters, but if any of the adventurers give their assistance anyways, they’ll earn the guards’ grudging respect and perhaps a little something for their trouble.
CLAUS SNOWFIELDS (DAYS TWO AND THREE)
The volunteers are awoken just before the crack of dawn, dragged (by force if need be) to a breakfast of heated ration block and hustled out the door before the sun would even peek over the horizon if it wasn’t completely obscured by the endless snowstorm. From there, a boring journey becomes downright miserable.
Everybody has to huddle uncomfortably close together on their chocobos to keep from losing each other in the oppressive whiteness of the storm. Even the high-end survival gear that the volunteers are wearing only slightly blunts the biting edge of the cold, the raw frigidity of the environment digging deep into the marrow of the bones and nestling there like some twisted parasite. The white chocobos, as surefooted as they are in this environment, struggle against the howling gales, each step forward seeming like a monumental accomplishment.
It isn’t long before all sense of direction is lost. Compasses stop working just a few hours in, their only use being pointing a way vaguely forward to venture towards. The only reliable way to tell the time is the frequency and strength of monster attacks; as the day inches towards night at an agonizingly slow pace, more and more monsters bound out of the snow to savage the party. At the start of this leg of the journey, packs of roving monsters only came once or twice every hour. But as the hours grind past it begins seeming like the party can’t have five minutes of peace before being interrupted by some manner of beast. It’s not just yetis and ice elementals, either: there are strange, exotic animals, all the apex of physical perfection that comes with the ability to survive in such a harsh environment. Magical constructs such as ice golems and undead dressed in the clothes of other explorers also sometimes come charging out of the snow at the party, forcing a confrontation.
When: November 23rd-30th
Where: The Uncharted Territories
What: Frisk leads an expedition into the North to try and find Hades. It doesn't go well.
Warnings/Notes: Post a toplevel to each of the segments below if you want. Encounters will be posted under the appropriate toplevel. For combat, I'd appreciate it if you put where your putting your passive job stat boosts in the subject line of your first post, plus any other boosts your character may have. Thank you!
The directions that the volunteers have been sent over mail lead to a chocobo ranch just a day away from Armstrong Fort. For a groundbreaking journey into the unknown, the staging ground for Frisk’s expedition isn’t all that impressive. A quaint, if run-down, farmhouse lies next to the chocobos’ grazing patch, where Frisk can be seen arguing with a surly-looking Elezen. White chocobos coo at the new arrivals next to a mound of barely organized high-quality camping gear, staring at them curiously (or blankly, depending on how much intelligence to ascribe to chocobos). It’s a brisk November morning, and the cold bites into marrow of one’s bones as frost-encrusted dead grass crunches beneath the chocobos’ feet. Bleak grey clouds block out the sun, threatening snow but never quite delivering. Resignation and bleakness permeate the air. This certainly isn’t an auspicious start to an already dubious quest.
The first day of the expedition is, in a word, boring. Dreary, depressing, monotonous, and several other words of similar caliber would also be apt descriptors. The moody weather doesn’t change through the long hours of plodding towards Armstrong Fort, the clouds oscillating between grey and sullen, and black and intimidating; but always refusing to actually burst and bring down snow on the party’s head. Not even random encounters deign to make an appearance to spice up the day, due to the extensive efforts of Tark Varentain’s military. Perhaps the only redeeming factor of this first day is that the flat terrain and docile chocobos make the actual riding of the birds a breeze, with only the most inept of chocobo riders--such as Frisk--falling off or bruising their rumps through other means. With MogNet reception growing spottier as the team approaches the Claus Snowfields, the only way to pass the time is with conversation.
When Armstrong Fort appears on the horizon near sundown, it brings a sudden change in weather. Snowflakes begin falling from the sky, increasing in numbers and force as the expedition party makes its way towards the imposing fortress. After just thirty minutes, it’s nearly impossible to see ten feet past your chocobo’s beak. Thankfully, the white chocobos are used to such conditions, so the expedition party still makes good time. The party arrives at Armstrong Fort an hour after the inclement weather begins, and they’re greeted by grim guards who refuse to let them in after a solid fifteen minutes of arguing with Frisk, despite the permit for lodging that they display.
Inside, the fort is just as bleak as the outside, although in a significantly different way. Primarily elezen and human soldiers huddle around sputtering fires on the walls, peering through the snowstorm looking for any signs of monsters. The cries of the wounded echo from the medical hall, although all of the soldiers remain stoic even to their comrades’ pain. If pressed, one of the guards will begrudgingly explain that without a regular shipment of mana potions, their healers often can’t use magic on every wounded soldier, forcing them to do it the old-fashioned way.
The empty bunks that the volunteers are escorted to are uncomfortable, cold, and barren, but it’s marginally better than sleeping on the floor. Marginally. But whatever slumber the party gets is interrupted at one in the morning, when a pack of ferocious yetis attacks the walls. The soldiers stationed at Armstrong Fort are used to such assaults and don’t need any help fending off the monsters, but if any of the adventurers give their assistance anyways, they’ll earn the guards’ grudging respect and perhaps a little something for their trouble.
The volunteers are awoken just before the crack of dawn, dragged (by force if need be) to a breakfast of heated ration block and hustled out the door before the sun would even peek over the horizon if it wasn’t completely obscured by the endless snowstorm. From there, a boring journey becomes downright miserable.
Everybody has to huddle uncomfortably close together on their chocobos to keep from losing each other in the oppressive whiteness of the storm. Even the high-end survival gear that the volunteers are wearing only slightly blunts the biting edge of the cold, the raw frigidity of the environment digging deep into the marrow of the bones and nestling there like some twisted parasite. The white chocobos, as surefooted as they are in this environment, struggle against the howling gales, each step forward seeming like a monumental accomplishment.
It isn’t long before all sense of direction is lost. Compasses stop working just a few hours in, their only use being pointing a way vaguely forward to venture towards. The only reliable way to tell the time is the frequency and strength of monster attacks; as the day inches towards night at an agonizingly slow pace, more and more monsters bound out of the snow to savage the party. At the start of this leg of the journey, packs of roving monsters only came once or twice every hour. But as the hours grind past it begins seeming like the party can’t have five minutes of peace before being interrupted by some manner of beast. It’s not just yetis and ice elementals, either: there are strange, exotic animals, all the apex of physical perfection that comes with the ability to survive in such a harsh environment. Magical constructs such as ice golems and undead dressed in the clothes of other explorers also sometimes come charging out of the snow at the party, forcing a confrontation.
no subject
He shook his head sluggishly, trying to refocus on the battlefield. The beings summoned by Naoto and Kanji startled him for a moment, but it didn't take long to understand what he was looking at. Must be something similar to the Stand stuff he'd seen in Okuyasu's memory. He wasn't even surprised at people having powers anymore.
It was just the Mages now. This was doable. Uendo took a deep breath and concentrated. Although he'd been capable of Full Summoning for a while now, he'd rarely found himself in a situation where it was needed. Now, though... Frisk and Naoto weren't looking too good. They needed to end this quickly.
"Guess we're just waking up the whole camp, eh?" A glowing summoning circle formed in the snow around his feet as Uendo raised his staff. "Fire at will, Ifrit!"
No flimsy little portals this time. The demonic Eidolon emerged from the depths of the underworld itself, summoning a gigantic orb of Hellfire upon the Glacier Mages. This may or may not be an overkill, but damn if it wasn't satisfying to pull off.
no subject
By the time her head has cleared, she's watching Ifrit's Hellfire strike the Glacier Mages, eyes wide. She scans the battlefield for the source of the magic, and her eyes fall on Uendo. Has he been this powerful this entire time? She's impressed, and her heart is full of pride.
She chokes in another gasp of air and then lifts her head, smile reappearing on her face. In times of crisis, the idol always smiles. She's not weak, either! It hurts to breathe in the cold air, but she's only halfway through a concert!
"Naoto-kun!" She casts Benefic on her detective friend, wishing only that she could cast more than one spell this turn. "Your strength is inspiring! Please don't give up! Frisk-kun, Uendo, I'm right behind you all the way!"
no subject
Reloading her gun to activate concentrate, she raised the barrel and took aim into the lightning and flames, unleashing Flamethrower again upon all the enemies that might refuse to fall. While her assault hails, there was a more comforting shiver down her back as Shiva's Ice Veil fell over her.
no subject
Each of the Glacier Mages drop 5000 gil. The Wights also drop 2000 gil each. In addition to the money, there are several additional pieces of loot:
Glacier Cloak: A raggedy white cloak worn by a ferocious and capricious monster in the Uncharted Territories. Raises Magical Power by one rank, grants resistance to ice, and gives access to the Ice Age ability (severe ice damage to all foes, can only be used once per battle when health is 50% or lower).
Black Ice: An ancient greatsword wielded by the frozen warriors of the Uncharted Territories. Raises Physical Power by one rank, all attacks deal weak ice and dark damage in addition to their normal effects, and gives access to the Frost Moon Strike (medium physical combo, 33% chance of blindness) and Black Ice (heavy ice and dark damage to all foes or severe ice and dark damage to one foe, can only be used once per battle when health is under 50%) abilities. Must be repaired before it can be used in battle. Can be used by Berserkers.
7 Ice Crystals: Can be imbued into a weapon to add weak ice damage to all attacks and skills or imbued into armor to grant resistance to the ice element.
no subject
He waved to the others without a word, bidding them wait while he did so. The heavy snow masked a great deal of his presence, save for the clouds of mist with each breath he took as he moved at a clip to circle the camp.
The inspection lasted for several long minutes. But once Kanji was satisfied, he settled back by the fire with more of a collapse onto his ass than a calm settling, and leaned back on his hands.
"We're good. ...Shit, man. No wonder this place is uncharted."
no subject
He was about to start celebrating when Kanji gestured for them to wait. Right. Of course the more experienced fighters would know not to let their guard down. It was jarring at times, to realize how much more capable the teenagers were on a battlefield than any adult Uendo had ever known. Certainly more capable than Uendo himself.
He finally relaxed when Kanji returned with good news. Phew.
"Everyone okay? Frisk?" He turned to check on the youngest in the group. "Those were some cool moves you pulled there."
no subject
Once Kanji returned, she walked over to the fire as well. Settling back on his lap, her potion drinking momentarily halted so she could drag his cloak closed with some muttering. Comfortable again, she picked up and resumed slowly drinking her Hi-Potion. She would be fine.
no subject
His stomach formed a knot when she just made herself at home and tugged the cloak back over. Yeah. Pretty damn surly. Maybe because it was really cold and all that ice magic didn't help.
"Little banged up, but nothin' I can't bounce back from. Oi, Azusa... ya look like half-frozen hell, get over here!"
no subject
After they're done with patrol, they disappear for a few minutes--which may concern some party members--but reappear perfectly fine and un-golden, if a bit singed. "You know, having to deal with versions of this place that are fiery hellscapes instead frozen wastelands almost makes me appreciate how cold this place is. Almost," they grumble, sitting back down.
Frisk gives a weak smile and salutes Uendo. "Yeah, I'm good. And thanks, Fractured Nova has saved me at least twice now."
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"Uhh..."
Okay, how to phrase this:
"Am- am I gonna be thrown off by the answer if I ask what the hell's goin' on with your body?"
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Hopping back and forth between the moments sounded handy, but he could vaguely remember arguments from a couple of classmates (when he bothered staying awake for class, anyway) arguing about time travel and its effects. Once.
But hey, seeing as he's in a world of magic, monsters and dragons he may as well kind of get comfortable with the science-fiction shit.
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...they're gone for three straight minutes before they come back, looking very singed. "Yeesh, guess the other mes must be having trouble too," they grouse.
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Finished with her potion, Naoto wasn't even going to ask what was happening that resulted in the singeing. It was best - if at all possible - that Frisk remain in the present now and not get anymore injured than they already were.
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Instead of wearing heavy Astrologian robes, she's wearing heavy winter clothes instead. A purple parka, heavy gloves. You know, like she's about to adopt the Ice Climbers. She holds her hands in front of the fire and exhales a long sigh.
"My, my...your Melodies are really impressive, aren't they? I wonder if I have one."
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Not that he was an expert on time travel. His knowledge pretty much all came from scifi movies.
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He just... got mad and wanted to do somethin' about what was wrong with the town.
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Though, looking over at Frisk, she does consider. "Hm... each of them appear to be separate entities so I assume the Frisk present with us would be fine..."
Glancing behind her, she looked up at Kanji. "We'll be off our shift soon." The confusion might be from exhaustion.
no subject
But he blinked down at Naoto. "Yeah, I think so. I think I'm ready to hit the bricks. I'll start wakin' up the second shift."
...
He spotted some stray sword laying in the snow, fallen from one of their foes. Perfect. Using it as an anchor embedded in the snow, he began to awkwardly... slowly... shuffle... back to the tents.