And Then He Died...
Feb. 21st, 2007 11:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
...and it happened that fast.
Sunday's LARP finally saw Nimbus running out of nebuloid immunity to everything right in the middle of a fight, and ending up dead twice over before he hit the ground. I'd been calling no effect to everything the monsters had been throwing at me for the duration of the day, based around further development of the "wildlife calling chaos equals cross" plot (crass oversimplification), and had personally seen off well over my fair share of bad guys. For an unarmed caster who hit rank ten last week, that's quite good.
Unfortunately, his ability to waste things with indifference to what is coming the other way is heavily reliant on his cloud miracles, and they have a duration.
Cue their going down just as he's bouncing a zombie's drain life and ignoring two skeletons seeing a life force and wondering why it didn't fall over when they hit it. Forty-nine damage in about three seconds to an unarmoured character later and I was a cold, dead corpse as I face planted on the floor. I still maintain weather druids are overpowered, but now maybe they're just overpowered rather than outright fucking broken. Makes me feel slightly less guilty about playing one.
_______________
And so to Warhammer on Monday, and the culmination of about six weeks of play time (about a week IC) and the party getting to go to...a party. A masquerade ball thrown by the countess of Nöln to celebrate the unveiling of her latest giantpenis substitute cannon. Pieter decided that having utterly failed to be a nobleman on two separate occasions while trying to be something he wasn't, he would be his entirely down-to-earth self this time, and to hell with anyone who found his faux-cockney annoying.
Then he got bored.
Then he asked the Tilean ambassador, in halting Tilean, the way to the nearest whorehouse.
Then he found the answer out from someone else.
Then he told the Tilean ambassador, just in case she was wondering.
Not long afterwards, he was being slapped round the face with a leather glove and trying to get out of a formal duel with an overzealous lordling over her honour. Ignoring the very real possibility in his mind that the person issuing the challenge was mistaken, he assumed the Tilean abmassador actually had honour worth fighting for and eventually accepted, offering a fist fight, duly agreed to. I even gave the guy the first shot. It bounced off my hardcore exterior.
After picking him off for a few rounds of combat in true Joe Calzaghe style (speaking of boxing, anyone see Audley the Unwilling get his bell rung on Saturday night? The punch would have downed a freight train), I open up and actually tried to hit him hard. Coming in behind the jab, I had the lordling walk right on to an old-fashioned empire left hook that was telegraphed from the middle of last week. It knocked him into the middle of the next, breaking his neck in the process. Truly, Pieter can be amazingly dumb some times, but he can both take and dish it out like no other.
Then the Countess' cousin died, which was sort of academic, given we'd being waiting for it to happen all evening and Franz was already halfway inside her knickers. Ali gave chase, giving up before she passed out in her corset, and Mel remained slightly blurred and out of focus (Elizabeth was at work). The session finished with Pieter chastising the guard for not being more capable, Franz gretting laid by one of the Imperial Electors and Ali really wanting to blow something up, having been kept rather in check all night. Roll on next time, where the bad guys continue to build Frankenstein's monster's ugly cousin and we try to find out what the hell is going on before the festival ends and takes the world with it.
I'll bet she can blow something up then.
Sunday's LARP finally saw Nimbus running out of nebuloid immunity to everything right in the middle of a fight, and ending up dead twice over before he hit the ground. I'd been calling no effect to everything the monsters had been throwing at me for the duration of the day, based around further development of the "wildlife calling chaos equals cross" plot (crass oversimplification), and had personally seen off well over my fair share of bad guys. For an unarmed caster who hit rank ten last week, that's quite good.
Unfortunately, his ability to waste things with indifference to what is coming the other way is heavily reliant on his cloud miracles, and they have a duration.
Cue their going down just as he's bouncing a zombie's drain life and ignoring two skeletons seeing a life force and wondering why it didn't fall over when they hit it. Forty-nine damage in about three seconds to an unarmoured character later and I was a cold, dead corpse as I face planted on the floor. I still maintain weather druids are overpowered, but now maybe they're just overpowered rather than outright fucking broken. Makes me feel slightly less guilty about playing one.
_______________
And so to Warhammer on Monday, and the culmination of about six weeks of play time (about a week IC) and the party getting to go to...a party. A masquerade ball thrown by the countess of Nöln to celebrate the unveiling of her latest giant
Then he got bored.
Then he asked the Tilean ambassador, in halting Tilean, the way to the nearest whorehouse.
Then he found the answer out from someone else.
Then he told the Tilean ambassador, just in case she was wondering.
Not long afterwards, he was being slapped round the face with a leather glove and trying to get out of a formal duel with an overzealous lordling over her honour. Ignoring the very real possibility in his mind that the person issuing the challenge was mistaken, he assumed the Tilean abmassador actually had honour worth fighting for and eventually accepted, offering a fist fight, duly agreed to. I even gave the guy the first shot. It bounced off my hardcore exterior.
After picking him off for a few rounds of combat in true Joe Calzaghe style (speaking of boxing, anyone see Audley the Unwilling get his bell rung on Saturday night? The punch would have downed a freight train), I open up and actually tried to hit him hard. Coming in behind the jab, I had the lordling walk right on to an old-fashioned empire left hook that was telegraphed from the middle of last week. It knocked him into the middle of the next, breaking his neck in the process. Truly, Pieter can be amazingly dumb some times, but he can both take and dish it out like no other.
Then the Countess' cousin died, which was sort of academic, given we'd being waiting for it to happen all evening and Franz was already halfway inside her knickers. Ali gave chase, giving up before she passed out in her corset, and Mel remained slightly blurred and out of focus (Elizabeth was at work). The session finished with Pieter chastising the guard for not being more capable, Franz gretting laid by one of the Imperial Electors and Ali really wanting to blow something up, having been kept rather in check all night. Roll on next time, where the bad guys continue to build Frankenstein's monster's ugly cousin and we try to find out what the hell is going on before the festival ends and takes the world with it.
I'll bet she can blow something up then.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-22 04:26 pm (UTC)As a matter of curiousity, how was the miracle expiration timed? Were you on an internal monologue count, or do you have a timer set?
no subject
Date: 2007-02-23 10:10 pm (UTC)As to how it was timed, I thought about thirty seconds before it went down that it was due somewhere in the two minutes surrounding that moment. I'd been beating things up a minute ago, I was beating things up now, and would still be beating things up in a minute's time. There was little difference to when it was going to go down, as the result would be the same, so it may as well have happened when it did.