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medigel rolled 5 4-sided dice:
1, 2, 4, 1, 1
Total: 9 (5-20)
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 Posted: Fri Dec 07, 2012 10:06 pm
Mort was not comfortable with leaving the snow of Christmas for the snow of the Human World. Nor was he particularly happy about how little they knew about this current mission. There were rumors of course, but they were dark whispers of a mass collection for something lost, something the horseman needed to regain their identity. And what was that exactly? More slaughter? More war? What would the Lost Clans do if they achieved their goals?
He had an uneasy feeling where his stomach would have been. A restless itch alongside the whispers. But a soldier did what he was told.
The zomboil was grateful that he was paired with not only a rather placid looking Conquest horseman, who preferred ignoring her present company rather than actively be condescending, but with a certain dracolich as well. It was enough that Mort didn't immediately scowl when he realized he had to once again trudge through the snow. The woman explained in a clipped but informative fashion what it was they had to do and then, swaddling herself in what was probably the latest fashion in the Clan, left them be.
Well, if worst came to worst, their crystals could port them out . . . The extra shard from Medea also didn't hurt. "Mrrr . . . Well, ah, h-hope can do this quick then," he mumbled to Aymet, rubbing his hands together and glad he had chosen to wear a hoodie rather than an open coat this time. The spark of the virus they had manifested prior remained cradled in his palms.
Virus HP: 3 hurrrrrrr gj there
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Molten Tigrex rolled 5 4-sided dice:
3, 3, 3, 1, 2
Total: 12 (5-20)
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Posted: Sun Dec 09, 2012 3:59 pm
The cold was nice.
Aymet let it distract him, until that hollow, acidic feeling creeped back up his bones. The conquest horsewoman was some ways away, completely engrossed in her work.
A lot of the rumors going around the small group of initiates didn't feel nearly as shocking as they'd been even a day or so before. Aymet didn't really feel like he was all there since leaving the elf factory. It felt like something was missing, something that hadn't even been there to start with. The stuff he'd seen... as real as anything else he'd seen in his life, and somehow, just a dream. A bad one. How was he even supposed to talk to someone like Mort about this? Who could he talk to this about without sounding crazy, or dangerous, or both? When the zomboil wanted Aymet to come along with him for another lair task, the dracolich couldn't refuse. Superimposed over his friend was that cold, hollowed-out soldier in red. The guilt was going to burn him up.
His affinity for cold and ice made manipulating the water-borne virus almost a mindless task. The tiny light blossomed brighter, ready to infect.
"C'mon, we're practically professionals at this point," he reassured Mort, as the virus danced through his spread claws. The idea that something so small could cause so much chaos and fear was enticing in a way he had never considered before. He felt a little better already. "It won't take long."
HP: 5
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