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/tg/ - Traditional Games

Thread LXVI:

Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Lamia%20Legacy%20Quest
Twitter: https://twitter.com/LamiaLegacy
Opening Theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RCQmQwKEEOM
Story Thus Far: http://pastebin.com/bDw1Cba3
Season: Winter

Money: 975
New Backpack - (Sealed)
Kozak Bladesx2
Repeater - Unupgraded

Sasha: Skill list
Ranching +4
Scholar +3
Marksmanship +5
Natural Ability (Lamia) +3
Intrigue +4
Casting (Draconic+4 Roc+2 Leviathan+3 Troll+1 Elemental+1)
Falconry +1

It's amazing what a little bit of cash does for ones motivation. Faced with the prospect an extended downtime James, Serrak's construction foreman, was already amenable to doing something with his time that wasn't shoring up the road between the passage and the bridge. All you needed to do to shift his interest to attention was visibly count out the seven hundred isens in front of him. The next few days had his crew going at it with gusto, framing up the wall portions in the relative comfort of their camp and moving them to the now vacated bunkhouse.

Shifting folks out of the bunkhouse was another story, Tatiana and Artyom willingly volunteered to take up residence in the barn, apparently indifferent to the drafts. McCain bore the indignity of being relegated to a sleeping chair with his usual stoicism, and Tai simply doubled up working with the untouchables. Marie was the only problem case, loudly griping about having to move all her things and setting up a convoluted psuedo-nest in one of the lower rooms of the house, conveniently nearest to the kitchen. You suspect its more to do with the cold than anything, given the layers of blankets she had set up before realizing that the radiant heating left things much warmer in here. You imagine it'll be a pain getting her to leave.
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With startling speed the work crew had dismantled the bunkhouse leaving only a forlorn skeleton of the main frame. Clapboard and tar paper lay in a heap on the far side of the building while the newly fabricated framework started to pile up near the barn. The biggest hassle seems to be breaking through the frozen topsoil to place the new posts for the expansion, the crews only having breached one in the few days its been since deciding on the bunkhouse.

It's fairly early, and having finished breakfast you've been left in peace for the time being.

>Check in on someone? (Veles, Ranchhands, Work Crew, Beastfolk, Nitor, other?)
>Help out somewhere?
>The Nitor then Veles
We need to make sure that no Phoenix Shenanigans are occurring.
Also want to play with our falcon. Birds of prey are fucking awesome.
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You decide to head out and check with the Nitor, you know that the troops sent to watch over the refugees has been in contact with nitor command, having seen the couriers bearing their uniforms running in and out of the ranch. Bundling up, you slither outside into the cold and toward the beastfolks camp. Predictably, the mere sight of you causes the few phoenix survivors to retreat to the safety of their tents, meanwhile the Zhou and his beastfolk stand at attention upon noticing you. Taken aback, you reflexively nod at them, and they go at ease.

Grimacing, you go through the camp and find Corporal Red who is currently being animately shown a rather wicked looking blade by one of the beastfolk. Tapping him on the shoulder, you tear him away from the womans frantic pantomime of what seems to be a glorious battle of somesort. "Something I can help you with, Miss Masterson?" He asks, leaning back against the stump he'd taken up watch against.

"Just wonder what the Nitor have got, if anything. Phoenix have a vested interest in hitting here, wanna make sure they aren't up to something." You say.

"I don't think they are ever not up to something." He responds casually, "But word from the captain says they've not seen hide nor hair of them out of the cavern. Still got the schola trying to bust in, but its slow going. A lot went into that barrier it seems."

"Any attacks? Anything of the sort? They can't just have holed up there."

"Nothing reported as far as I know, my information may be a bit dated being out here, but I haven't heard anything."

Thanking him for his time, you head back to the ranch compound proper, opening the gateway to Veles' lair. Slipping inside, you're greeted to two of Liama's soldiers standing rifles in hand, covering the gateways.

"Something happen?"

"Not gonna give it a chance to." Caff says, "Never know with magic garbage, and it pays to be diligent."

Seems everything is in order here.

>What do?
It's been too long since we last played with Daisy. I say we do that for a while.
Since you're already here, you may as well check on Daisy. It's been a while since you messed with her. Leaving the shadows to their guard work, you slip into the rookery. You find the falcon giving you the silent treatment, back turned, staring out the exit. After a bit of coaxing, and an putting on the leather armguard, she eventually decides to perch upon you. Once on she lapses into her old self, nuzzling affectionately as you slither further down into Veles' lair proper.

Inside you see the old snake tinkering with something yet again, coils laying haphazardly throughout the cavern has he moves from station to station, muttering to himself.

"Something wrong?" You ask, moving towards him.

<Oh, hello Sasha.> Veles grumbles, <A bit preoccupied here. Apologies.>

<Something the matter?> You ask, slipping into snake cant, wondering why he's not using

<I can't for the life of me find that tool the one called Liama lent me to tinker with. I had it here.> He says, sweeping his hands over the station before cursing and moving to the next.

<Why, need it for something?> You ask, approaching the benches, only to be stopped as he puts himself between you and them.

<Nothing, nothing, just a thing. Too many eyes here. Don't worry about it. I'll find it later.> He says hurriedly, <Was there something I could help you with?>

"Wanted to check on you, play with Daisy, maybe see about doing some practice with illusion magics, but If you're busy I can come back later."
Kinda slow, isn't it?
Wonder where everyone is.
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"Wanted to check on you, play with Daisy, maybe see about doing some practice with illusion magics, but if you're busy I can come back later."

"Oh, no. No, I'm not busy." He says hurriedly, leading you to the pile of books and scrolls. "Illusion magic, you say?"

"I think I can see definite applications for it." You say, slipping Daisy another treat.

"Anyone with a dash of cunning would, but that is Roc magic, phoenix too if that barrier was any indication. I do not know how much help I would be, never much could get the hang of it." He moves over to the Iron Book, "Lets see what we can see."

Diving into the notes, it becomes pretty apparent that illusions are a bit hard for one to practice solo. Most of the time the caster of the illusion is readily aware of the falseness of it, which makes creating convincing ones a pain. What one needs is practice with others watching over it, critiquing or looking for flaws. Fashioning a projection of a mental image seems to be a lot like art, and that a definitive form needs to be explicitely prepared, lest the illusion compensate with whatever the mind considered its natural state. To put it in simple terms, if you were to fake a human and do it wrong, it is very hard to tell when the illusion fails to convince someone.

"Would that make the barrier in the cove an illusion then?" You ask Veles, describing the one way wall that Captain Keel walked through.

"An incredibly advanced one if what you say is true." Veles says, pondering the details. "They much have a great Roc caster, or more likely, spent a good deal of blood to reinforce it. Illusions are draining. Not so much as draconic, but they can be taxing on concentration. Surprisingly Troll magics can lend to illusions. Perhaps them and their spawn are... single minded enough... to focus completely on the illusions as well."

>Practice Illusion magic? (Needs a 1d20+2 roll.)
Rolled 10 + 2 (1d20 + 2)

As I'm the only one here can I have two rolls?
May as well.
Rolled 3 + 2 (1d20 + 2)

#2 then
Well. That didn't help at all.
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Rolled 7 + 2 (1d20 + 2)

Time to test my luck
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You focus on projecting the image much like you would when you conjure your fire. Focus hard on it, will it into existence, you shut your eyes as you try and form the image of a human. Squinting, you see the vague shape project from your hand, coalescing into a vaguely humanoid form. Concentrating further, it snaps into clear relief.

Excited with your success, you turn to Veles. "That wasn't so bad." You say, out of breath.

"Not bad at all for a first time. Only one problem." He says, pointing to the static image.

The texture is wrong. All wrong. The top part is fine, the clothes even are as well, but pants and legs aren't supposed to be snakeskin. Maybe the boots, but still its all one seamless flat texture. Veles points to little bits of it, and the more he points out, the more it becomes apparent to you as well. Finally, drained from the exertion, you let the image fade.

"Still. A goodly effort. Who was it?" Veles asks.


"Well you can't easily fabricate something. So you generally have to base it off something."

Oh geeze. You tried to make an image of your dad.

>Keep practicing (More rolls of the same)
>That's enough.
Rolled 16 + 2 (1d20 + 2)

We can try again.
Given how tired it made us, we shouldn't do too much more or we'll have a massive headache.
Rolled 1 + 2 (1d20 + 2)

Time to try again
Whelp, here comes the headache.
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"Lets give it another go." You say, prepping yourself for the illusion. You focus harder now, both not to re imagine your dead father, and to make the image proper. Channeling it begins to take shape, coalescing into a right good image almost believable at that, no snake pants. Veles gives you some critique as you maintain the illusion, pointing out the small things. For such an old snake he is remarkably perceptive when it comes to details. You try and change them as you go, feeling the pull as you pour more and more energy into the figure. Then you collapse.

You find yourself in a dark fog. Off in the distance you can see three landscapes approaching, as if viewed through a window. The first is familiar, the cave in the mountains you remember dreaming of months ago. The second is familiar too, the tree in the ruins, the tree is different though, more ragged. Looking to the third you do a double take, a mirror of the tree also in the ruins, but the ruins are different now. Off in the distance you can see another image, but it is far too away to make out.

>The Cave in the Mountain
>The Tree in the Ruins
>The Other Tree in the Ruins
>The Distant Image
>Other image
While I would love to see more of Marie's past, the unknown is more interesting.
*Distant image
Let's check out the distant one
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You find yourself in a city, but unlike the tall and bustling cities of Snake's Landing or Riverport this one is calm, sprawling, almost sedate. Idyllic. A river runs through the brunt of it as the roads follow the natural curve of the earth. You'd think it were almost natural if it were not for the unobtrusive signs of landscaping, shoring along the riverbank. Following the road, you're eventually led to a house. At once you are beset upon by insects, but instead of stinging and biting the things simply crawl across you, before carrying on their merry way.

From the rear of the house you hear the sounds of fighting, rounding the corner you see two Lamia fighting, the first is huge, not the size of Veles but still far larger than any other specimen you've encountered. She is locked in a furious battle with much smaller lamia. Her opponent is child with definitive and familiar black and yellow banding. The younger one sports a wooden sword as she darts back and forth, using her speed to force the larger one to double up over herself to keep her guard up. The larger one though, is using the long haft of a bladed ranseur, the edge moving dangerously close to larger lamia's skin as she parried the attacks by the smaller one.

The battle keeps up after a long while, the younger trying to disarm the elder to no avail until finally the larger one has had enough. Catching the sword at an angle, she gives a simple twist of the haft and the blade spins off into the grass. The younger one charges and before the two collide, the elder picks up the younger beneath the armpits and spins, turning the battle lust to glee as the younger devolves into a fit of giggling. Pulling her into an embrace, you see another female figure, human, approach the pair as the dream begins to fade.

"Miss Masterson, are you ok?" You hear the voice of Liama say as something shakes you from your stupor.

I just had the weariest dream. I saw what looked like a child version of you sparing with an older lamia. The older one had a Ranseur. That's not a very common weapon. . . Huh.
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"Weird dream." You mutter, shaking the fog from your head. Now that you look you see that you've been moved from where you tried to do magic back to the corner you stayed at. Liama is busy hovering over you, fretting about as you try and pull yourself up.

"Not surprised, you were out like a light there. I heard Veles and came as quick as I could. Just try and relax." Liama says, pushing you back onto the furs.

"You passed out mid cast. Good try though, it lasted a full three seconds before it dissipated." Veles calls unhelpfully from the barrel of water he's fiddling with.

You groan. "Well, it's weird, because I didn't know you were here, but you were in the dream."

"Come again?"

"It was a little you, or someone with your coloring. I don't know, but they were sparring with someone much bigger. Older one was using a spear, or something. Wavy blade with a crosshilt. Using the rear end of it to spar. Then she spun the little you around."

"A ranseur?" Liama says, concern growing on her face. "Well, mom and I used to do that, but how would you know that? That's probably a good decade before you were even born I'd imagine."

>Not the first time its happened.
>I've no idea.
>not the first time
This has happened, what? Three times now? Four? The first one was about Tai while he was coming here, I think? Or was that the second one? From what I've heard from him, it could have been his ship that I was dreaming about. These started around the time McCain helped me find and hire Tai and Mari I think.
We read books 'n shit. Why wouldn't we know what a Ranseur is?
Its a relic of wars fought 600 years ago. Most melee you see nowadays are cavalry sabers or the like. You probably know the term but lithographic prints are still expensive and uncommon in the southern colonies, and you always took to rifles more than you did blades. That and flow of dialogue.
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Fair enough. Though, there are plenty of combat manuals that have drawings of weapons and how to use them. Pic attached is actually from one. Oh well. Doesn't matter.
>>Not the first time its happened.
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"It was a little you, or someone with your coloring. I don't know, but they were sparring with someone much bigger. Older one was using a spear, or something. Wavy blade with a crosshilt. Using the rear end of it to spar. Then she spun the little you around."

"A ranseur?" Liama says, concern growing on her face. "Well, mom and I used to do that, but how would you know that? That's probably a good decade before you were even born I'd imagine."

>Not the first time its happened.
>I've no idea.

"It's not the first time this has happened." You say quietly. The silence that follows you prompts you to look up at the worried pair of faces staring back at you. "McCain, Tai, Marie, little snippets of their lives beforehand. Things I've no idea about either."

"How do you know its them?" Liama asks, more interested than worried.

"I can usually put two and two together. Usually its big events. Like with McCain I could get it, my father ran into him during the flight from first wood. Could just be me putting jumbled infant memories together. The others not so much. The ship Tai came on, Marie's troubles in the citadel ruins. No way I'd have known about either."

"Its not quite like anything I've heard of before. Maybe a few things, but not like that. Strange." Veles says, continuing his unhelpful streak.

"You shared this with anyone else yet?" Liama asks.

"No, McCain might have picked up on it when he was dancing around meeting my father after I found out about his past, but never explicitely." You say, feeling more and more miserable by the second.

"It is definitely interesting." Veles says holding out a glass, "I wouldn't worry too much about it. I'll see what I can dig up. Mayhaps my sire might've known something."

You take the offered water glumly, 'interesting' is not the word you want to hear from someone who's seen as much as Veles has.
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Figure this is a good enough stopping point as any. I'll try and get something going this weekend, but knowing my connection it'll be a crapshoot. That and I buggered up the last post. Amazing.

Anyway, thanks for reading. I hope you guys enjoyed it.
A gas as always. Thanks for running!
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>mfw every thread
Thanks for running, Chem!

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