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middleofsomewhere2020-09-15 10:04 pm
voidtreckermods) wrote in middleofsomewhere2020-09-15 10:04 pm
Onward: Purple
Villages
Each village has a central area and that is where the blighted have gathered. Or, not just the blighted; truthfully, most people have gathered in the commons. It is a hub of activity, people gathered for safety, for company. There is plenty to do for anyone not currently fighting golems or trolls: the village wells are often on the vulnerable outskirts, so fetching water is an important chore, as is collecting firewood.
Inside the village halls, there are injured to be tended and the blighted to care for. Most of them are well enough, they just are unable to do much for fear it will set off the powers inside them. They need help with most basic things, and apologies for stray fireballs or flash-frozen surfaces can be frequently heard in the large spaces.
Roaming
The outskirts of the villages are where the danger lurks: golems and trolls roam the woods and will lumber out to attack when they get near the villages, especially if they see people.
The trolls are big and swing large clubs with impressive strength and control. Their cunning makes them harder to fight than may be expected from their brutish appearance, teaming up or feigning attacks to get the upper hand. Their skin is mildly resistant to magic, but their size makes them easy targets.
Likewise, the golems are not particularly hard to find, nor hard to hit. They are, however, highly resistant to most damage. The crystal set into their faceplate pulses with a sickly, overbright energy that continues even if removed from the golem. (The golem itself does not continue, but falls into a passive state.) Golems are not equipped with weaponry, nor do they have any ranged attacks; their offense is great, spinning punches, or bulldozing.
Further afield, wild animals roam in great numbers, displaced from their usual homes by the aggressive trolls and misfiring golems - or blighted members of their own species.
Purification
Roughly in the centre of the cluster of villages, there stands a shrine. It is a simple structure, dark, curved walls open to the sky. Within the shrine, a circular pit about a foot deep can be found, which is where the crystals must be placed.
The ritual itself is simple, though requires some magical casting. Those who do not share in the magical arts can be helpful by helping clean, polish or mend the crystals before the ritual, or even by taking part in the chants. The natural, latent energies of living beings aid in the ritual, it seems, and so the attendants will not turn away any who wish to remain.
For the most part the ritual doesn’t look too exciting: chanting, small spells being cast into the crystal with small flares of light or song. However, right at the climax of the ritual, the whole pit burns with a brilliant light that fills the shrine before flowing back into the crystal. Once purified, the crystals can be placed back into an inactive golem, which will take up their natural roles of protectors of the villages if they are not in too poor a shape.
Each village has a central area and that is where the blighted have gathered. Or, not just the blighted; truthfully, most people have gathered in the commons. It is a hub of activity, people gathered for safety, for company. There is plenty to do for anyone not currently fighting golems or trolls: the village wells are often on the vulnerable outskirts, so fetching water is an important chore, as is collecting firewood.
Inside the village halls, there are injured to be tended and the blighted to care for. Most of them are well enough, they just are unable to do much for fear it will set off the powers inside them. They need help with most basic things, and apologies for stray fireballs or flash-frozen surfaces can be frequently heard in the large spaces.
Roaming
The outskirts of the villages are where the danger lurks: golems and trolls roam the woods and will lumber out to attack when they get near the villages, especially if they see people.
The trolls are big and swing large clubs with impressive strength and control. Their cunning makes them harder to fight than may be expected from their brutish appearance, teaming up or feigning attacks to get the upper hand. Their skin is mildly resistant to magic, but their size makes them easy targets.
Likewise, the golems are not particularly hard to find, nor hard to hit. They are, however, highly resistant to most damage. The crystal set into their faceplate pulses with a sickly, overbright energy that continues even if removed from the golem. (The golem itself does not continue, but falls into a passive state.) Golems are not equipped with weaponry, nor do they have any ranged attacks; their offense is great, spinning punches, or bulldozing.
Further afield, wild animals roam in great numbers, displaced from their usual homes by the aggressive trolls and misfiring golems - or blighted members of their own species.
Purification
Roughly in the centre of the cluster of villages, there stands a shrine. It is a simple structure, dark, curved walls open to the sky. Within the shrine, a circular pit about a foot deep can be found, which is where the crystals must be placed.
The ritual itself is simple, though requires some magical casting. Those who do not share in the magical arts can be helpful by helping clean, polish or mend the crystals before the ritual, or even by taking part in the chants. The natural, latent energies of living beings aid in the ritual, it seems, and so the attendants will not turn away any who wish to remain.
For the most part the ritual doesn’t look too exciting: chanting, small spells being cast into the crystal with small flares of light or song. However, right at the climax of the ritual, the whole pit burns with a brilliant light that fills the shrine before flowing back into the crystal. Once purified, the crystals can be placed back into an inactive golem, which will take up their natural roles of protectors of the villages if they are not in too poor a shape.
Fingon
As unobtrusively as he can (shit for a Silvan! Pretty good for a Noldo! It's all perspective!) Fingon wanders the wilderness, marking the enemies around. He's not going to get into fights with too large herds; dying again is actually not a priority.
But when he thinks his odds are good, his bow is at his shoulder and there's a borrowed knife at his hip. One by one, careful and methodical, he thinks he can bring the monsters lurking in the woods down.
Villages
The people are still worried, no matter the brave faces most try to put on. Fingon looks at them thoughtfully, the examines the room to look for something. After some time, and a few conversations, he finds what he's looking for: someone holds up a lute they don't mind borrowing.
Fingon bows and takes it in hand. After a few minutes, a melody emerges: sweet and comforting, imbued with the memory of spring sunlight and a gentle western wind.
roaming
Every now and again they got separated or wandered off from one another in search of new prey to hunt though. They could always find each other again by various means after an hour or two had passed without sight of each other.
This was one of those times. Reno was alone in the light woods outside the village area and stalking a lone dire wolf for its pelt. The beast was crafty though and giving the redhead a run for his money.
Then he ran into the group of trolls. "Well, shit," he murmured to himself after he was spotted by one of the ugly monsters. Not only was his prey getting away but now he was stuck dealing with these stupid things. Great.
no subject
So he veers off what was once his intended path, so much as there was one at any rate. A pack of trolls, now looking confused but for one that does seem to have something in its sight.
He raises his bow. An arrow sings out.
And as the one with a plant crumples to his knees, howling, the others of the band look around in confused panic.
no subject
As those hit their targets, Reno went into action. He rushed the closest troll and struck it with a swipe as he dashed past, another burst of electricity accompanying him. Then he turned and readied his next action while it was still reeling. A high jump into the air and then he slammed down into the ground with his baton, an eruption of electricity ensued from the tip, spreading out in a great area of effect around the Turk.