Malkavian Madness Network
New World of Darkness => World of Darkness => War Fantasy => Topic started by: MrParaduo on May 20, 2021, 08:42:46 PM
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In darkness, the weight of something hard and cold cut against harm flesh. As Vara Cirna opened her elven eyes, there were as a drunkard's, blurred and unfocused. Time past, and with it, she realized her peril. The druchii lay atop hard stone and moldering hay; chains and manacles digging into her wrists and ankles. Through the metal bars of a nearby window, the stiped light of Mannslieb peered into the room, just across from the confines of Vara's cell.
[Alright, describe yourself, what does Vara remember?]
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Shaking my long raven hair from my eyes, trying to clear them and figure out how I landed here. I look at the manacles, seeing if my slender limbs can escape their confines, failing that, testing the slack of the chain, finding my height cramped in these binds. I sit with my back to the wall, trying to meditate, trying to discover how this happened.
I remember being at sea, the boat rocking with the waves. Wulfgar had 'booked' us passage, forcing me to stow out in the cargo hold, unable to see the horizon. I remember talking with Qik and Morgot snored away in the corner, trying to weasel myself into her confidences. Then the boat hit something, causing me to stumble down onto the floor I was desperately trying to avoid. I try to listen, hearing the sounds of combat from above. I crouch down, pulling out the cold dagger, and I wait for the problem to arrive. And then it gets fuzzy.
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[Take a beat]
Your mind began to clear as the last of your sleep began to fade away. With it came the telltale signs of movement from behind the mouldering wooden door that was the room's only exit. And perhaps the muffled sounds of conversation. You then felt the pull of your familiar, Semee, though it was dull and distant, like she was nowhere and everywhere all at once...
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Not to be found in such a weak state, I shift to my knees, composing myself and trying to look as unperturbed as possible, despite this foul human clothing I must wear. Semee. What's going on?
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Ph...vrffrf...mh...
That was the best you could make out as you heard what snatches of the muse's thoughts there were. Like ribbons of liquid color bubbling to the surface of a babbling brook.
You could hear the clinking of metal from behind the door, now; a key turning inside the lock soon after.
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Just my luck. Why can't I just catch a break for once? Leaning back to shake my head, getting as much hair out of my face as I can, I make do with what I can. "Come in." I call out, teasingly.
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The door swung open to a loud groaning of its iron hinges. Two figures entered, dressed in padded armor and chainmail helmets. Humans, armed with cudgels. Eyeing you, they began talking to each other in Tilean - you knew as much from your time with the Strigani.
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Ugh, how many languages do humans need? I sigh, looking at them. "At least I know I made it to the right place." I keep myself composed and in charge, despite the situation. "Is there something I can do for you gentlemen?"
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[Hmm... roll Wits + Empathy.]
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[0S]
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For the life of you, you just can't figure out what their intentions are. Much like a staring contest with a Cold One. Are they angry? No. Happy? Well...
Regardless, one of them opens the door to your cell. The other standing watch with a hand on his cudgel.
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"Hi, yes, hello." I fumble around for the right human words. "Do you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth?" I gives the men a once over, trying to give off a signature look of superiority. Its a challenge, since I'm unused to being the one in chains, caged.
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[Roll Presence + Expression, with a -1 from previous failure, and a -1 from circumstance.]
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[0S]
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If you made an impression, neither human showed it. Instead, the one inside the cell with you began to unfasten his belt and leggings.
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I roll my eyes. "Really? You interrupt my pilgrimage for this?" I sigh, looking past the man with me at the one on guard. "Are you going to take turns? I can handle both of you at the same time. Get you back to your posts faster." I smile, reaching towards my hair, stopped by the chain.
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The half-nude guard began giggling to himself, taking off his gloves as he stepped closer, hands motioning towards your legs.
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I look at him, brain wracking for anything to get through to this little man.
Spells are out, can't make the proper gestures. Talking isn't working. Seduction might do it, but humans might have an adverse reaction to my glorious mutations.
"You don't make the minimum size requirement for that. You can always take this." I say, pointing at my open mouth, tongue in cheek.
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[Roll either Presence or Manipulation + Persuasion with a -2 from language barrier. Don't forget any modifiers you have from Gifts and/or Merits.]
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[Man 1S]
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For the first time since coming into the cell, the human paused, staring at you. The grin on his face returned as he stood back up, his manhood, fully erect, now level with your eyes.
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Thank Atharti. Now its time to suffer this indignity, and hopefully get free.
I smile back up at him, reaching my hands towards his twig, causing the chains to rattle again as they go taut again. I frown, tugging at them again a few more times, before gritting my teeth and throwing a mini faux temper tantrum. I slump down with a scowl, resting against the wall, I open my mouth, sticking a little bit more than mortal tongue out, flicking my eyes up to his in irritation.
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And without ceremony, the human shoved his meat into your mouth, almost choking you with it as his ball sack bounced against your chin. The funk of his loins overpowering as his hairy bush invaded your nostrils. Yet as he went about his rape, something else came over the flesh of your body: the familiar warmth of unnatural power, of Chaos. The Mark of Slaanesh.
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I moan around the unwanted invasion, my mark bringing a pleasing tingle through my body. I reach for it, my other arm clinking the chain, just barely unable to go that far. Frustrated at my impotence, I close my eyes and focus on the mark and the task at hand. I slip my tongue out, the tip teasing his sack as I start bobbing my head in time with his thrusts.
"Semee? Am I still alone in here?"
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Mfvv... feflf... nrm...
As you began to 'indulge' the corrupt guard, you began to feel the Mark twist at your flesh, like a valve or gear hot from the forge, pulling at the skin as it pushed deeper inside, burning. In tandem was a strangeness in your wrists. You could feel them stretching, tendons, bone and all! Neither human appeared to notice, too busy either talking or grunting like a beast in heat.
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I feel a little more air on my wrists and smile, beginning to wiggle against the manacles. I shift forward more, using his momentum to bounce my body off his thrusts, making natural noise with the chains as I try to free myself. I swirl my tongue around his rod, trying to hurry along this bothersome intercourse.
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[Roll Dexterity + either Athletics or Larceny, with a +2 from the Mark.]
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[ath 3S]
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More and more, you felt your wrists slide free of the metal bindings. In all likelihood, the guard assaulting you unknowingly aided in hiding your trick from his compatriot, as neither made any change to what was transpiring.
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Gently lowering the chains to my calves, I go through possible scenarios and end up on the least dangerous.
[Flesh puppet on the door guard]
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[Spend 1 WP. Roll a contested Intelligence + Subterfuge + 3 check.]
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[2S]
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*Rollz*
It was unclear whether having someone else's sausage in your mouth was an impediment or a conductor for the powers of Slaanesh as you cast your spell. But cast it you did. Like a twig under foot, the guard's soul crumbled as your mind overtook him. Then, in the blink of an eye, you found yourself standing over your literal fucker, watching as he continued to assault your now unconscious body. Meanwhile, in your new human form, you felt grime, sweat and heat all over, your host's cock pushing hard against the confines of his underwear. You smelled of iron and horse; tasted onions on round tongue and chapped lips. Your neck had a crick in it while your back was tight at the base of the spine.
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I give me new body a little stretch and test the new actual muscles. Crude, sloppy, but useful now. Time to release myself from this situation. I raise the cudgel, bringing it down on the head of the first rapist.
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[Roll Strength (3) + Weaponry with a +1 from cudgel, but a -2 from new body.]
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[0S]
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Swing... and a miss! Even with a thug for a body, you're aim isn't the best Naggaroth has to offer.
The fucker continues to fuck.
[Try again?]
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[might as well]
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[Roll again.]
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[0S]
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Swing... and a miss!
[You get 1 more. ;) ]
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[2S]
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And just like that, at long last, the fell human dropped like a ton of bricks besides your comatose body.
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I roll my eyes, sighing at how clumsy this human body is. I want out of this thing. I take the keys out, unlock my prone body from the manacles, moving me to the door, and begin searching either of these humans for a blade.
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Shornaal be praised! Not only did your host have a dagger in his boot, but so did the other guard. Neither were anything worth applauding where craftsmanship was concerned, but they weren't rusty, and they weren't dull.
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Taking both daggers, I slip on on my prone form, and then begin to arrange my host's death. I unlock the door, looking around and getting my bearings.
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Beyond the door, you found a passageway with an open window at the midpoint, and another door at the far end. From the window, you could make out the ruins of a old stone fort, little more than an outpost. Torches lit the grounds, and even without elvish eyes, you could make out the shapes of sounds of humans wandering around.
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I move through several plans, ending with locking up my rapist in the manacles, hoisting my true form over my shoulder, and walking into the passageway, locking the cage behind me. Time to find where Wulfgar got to.
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You pass through the door on the far end of the passage, and from there find a torch-lit hall with a door of reinforced wood a few yards away. At the far back of the hall, you could hear mannish sounds, as well as make out a partially obstructed rug, suggesting an open space, perhaps a lounge? Meanwhile, a stairway leading down was set right next to said-area.
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I try to compose this body, and walk as if nothing is wrong towards the stairs, hoping to avoid notice from these new crude languaged humans.
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[Hmm... Roll Composure + either Subterfuge or Stealth, with a +3 from disguise]
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[sub 2S]
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*Rollz*
The awkwardness of walking in such cumbersome armor, along with the mild chafing against your thighs, made it easier for you to hide your normally elvish bearing. When you reached the far end of the hall, you saw the obstructed space was occupied by three other humans, all absorbed in what looked like a game of cards and dice. Yet as you neared the first step of the stairway, you felt a tug at your mind, the familiar tug of your familiar muse. Semee was nearby, but the pull of her presence was weak, flickering in and out of focus...
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I take a couple steps down, getting out of sight before focusing on my missing part, trying to get a bearing on my muse.
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A moment of concentration was all you needed. You sensed the muse's presence as a dull pressure that grew in the direction of the door you had passed on the way to the stairs. The one in the middle of the hall.
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Feeling the pull, I glance in the direction of the pull, before hefting my light weight back secure on my shoulder. I take a deep breath, and without looking at the guards behind me, I walk back up the stairs and towards the door.
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*Rollz*
You arrive at the door, finding that, despite its lack of a lock, the door refused to budge even an inch...
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I knock on the door, listening closely for any response. Is it barricaded, locked from the inside? Let's see what it may be.
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*Rollz*
After a moment of examination, the unmistakable presence of magic made itself known to you, taking the form of a soft caress against the skin of your host. A simple enchantment, too weak to harbor a dominant nature in one of the eight winds.
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Trying to look natural, I use my puppet to put my hand against the door, muttering a quick dispel as I force my blessed magic against this paltry breeze.
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[Roll contested Intelligence + Occult + Magic (3).]
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[2S]
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A decadent whisper teased at the tumblers of the lock, embracing the protective magics before feeding off them, strangling them, then, once stripped of all obstacles, contorting the lock itself. The slab of metal dropped into your host's outstretched palm, leaving the door ajar.
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Putting the lock on his belt, I walk him into the room, scanning the area with his dull human eyes.
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[Heh. Vara! What do your dull, human eyes see?]
[Er, I mean, roll Wits + Composure or Investigation.]
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[com, 0S]
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From a cursory glance, the room beyond was a mess, little more than a study nook filled with scrolls, parchment, and maps. Halfway melted candles fused to the small writing desk that faced the room's only window, which was too small to climb through for anything larger than a mouse.
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I lazily flick through scrolls, trying to see if anything is legible, and more importantly, anything magical.
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[Hmm... roll Intelligence + Occult]
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[2S]
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Perusing the documents, you find Tilean script that mentions unusual activity around the route you and the Strigany were taking. Disappearances of travelers and merchants, unseasonable weather, as well as the discovery of emaciated goblin cadavers littering a cairn due east of the ruined keep you were currently in.
*Rollz*
That's when you noticed it. The faintest sliver of a shadow from out the corner of your borrowed eyes. When you turned to face it, all that met you was the rest of the room...
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Human eyes darting around the room, nothing to be seen I find unnerving. Grabbing the one with the goblin corpses, I stuff it in my actual belt. "Who goes there?"
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Not a voice to be heard or body to be seen, yet as you scrutinize the room, the pull of Semee pulsates with such strength - you can only assume you are standing right on top of her.
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I do, in fact, check under my feet in case the human body didn't notice her. Trying something new, I back up and see if I can pull off witchsight through this crude vessel.
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[Roll Wits + Investigation + Magic (3) ]
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[0S]
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[I'll let you roll two more times, with a cumulative -1 penalty. If you use willpower, lemme know.]
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[1WP 1S]
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Though the effort strained your mind as much as your puppet's eyes, soon you came face to face with what had eluded you. Mere inches away, a small table held a bell jar filled with swirling grey mist. A tiny shadow flited within that mist, and you recognized immediately whom it belonged to.
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Grabbing the jar and holding it up to the light, I do a little shake as I inspect the jar itself. "I'll get you out in a minute, just as soon as I find out how they got you in there."
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While the exact details evaded you, the sound of tiny fists against the glass - followed by a stream of muffled, terse, and no doubt profanity-filled exclamations could be heard from within the jar.
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"Fine." I say, giving it another look over to make sure its safe to release my muse. "Just stop pounding while I figure this out."
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The daemon's outrage quietened (if only a little), as you cast your glance around the room.
*Rollz*
Though there appeared to be no signs of immanent danger, the presence of Ulgu warned of something or someone capable of hiding a boobytrap, magical or otherwise.
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[Can I use witchsight through the host?]
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[You just did, remember? ;) ]
[Spend 1 WP, then roll.]
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[Nope.]
[4S]
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Though it proved strenuous, you managed to peer into the Aethyr through the lens of human eyes once more. Ulgu blanketed the floor of the room in the form of scintillating grey fog. It was different, however, from other times you had encountered the Wind of Shadow, for instead of being laced with the debauched imagery of the Dark Prince, the magic here was... "tidy". Wisps of fog rose and clasped around Semee's orb-prison in the shape of ghostly hands, spidery fingers shifting in place like a mirage. They appeared attached to a tether of umbral smoke coming up from the floorboards, and upon crouching down to inspect it, you found the Wind's rune inscribed around a downward sword and a stylized closed-eye (you assumed, judging from what might have been eye lashes).
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I trace a finger along the rune, touching its power, searching for its secrets of it and its creator.
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[Hmm... roll Wits + Magic (3), with a +1 from previous success.]
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[2S]
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Initial findings came in the vague symbolism of witchsight. The magician was competent, of that there was no doubt - considering their efforts at obfuscation. Yet they lacked the nuance of an elven sorceress or mage. Their magic was stale, lacking in true passion, little more than rotecraft. Judging by the markings, however, the spell's anchor was freshly made...
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Giving it a closer inspection, I look for an unrefined edge, a way to unravel the spell and release my muse.
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[Roll again with a +2 from previous success.]
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[3S]
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You notice a loose floorboard near the rune. Pushing on it, you find hidden underneath a grey pebble marked with an even darker shade of grey. If the pebble were washed with something contrary to Ulgu's nature, it might be enough to disturb the enchantment's anchor.
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I stop, almost sitting to ponder. Grey magic, the south wind. The north wind must be White magic. Light. Now I need to remember its principles. Hekarti knows I never had the aptitude for that wind in the slightest. Now it makes sense considering my Master. I gently pick it up and put it on the windowsill before going back to trying to remember the White wind.
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[Take a beat]
[Roll Intelligence + Occult with a +1 from previous success]
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[4S]
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You remember that Hysh is drawn to well lit areas, especially places exposed to sunlight. Though stable, it is ironically the subtlest of the eight Winds, and requires strength of will and ritual to control. Actions involving purity, enlightenment, and honesty draw it as well, though it could take a while to draw such a diffuse Wind and at such a late hour in the night.