witchesreign | SeeD field exam

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SeeD field exam

Incongruous architecture and reports of suspicious noise around ruins recently unearthed on a Trabia farm have led the local town council to suspect off-world involvement. SeeD has been hired to provide a thorough safety assessment of the site, with an eye for potential future development.

[The town council, who hired SeeD for this mission, have supplied a check list for Namur and Maria to refer to, things like monsters, structural integrity, and other hazards. Amid whining about the overnight appearance of these ruins "DEVASTATING!!" his potato crop and some sideeying of Namur, the farmer with sudden ancient ruins on his farm has shown them to the entrance, handed them flashlights, and gone back to his work.

[The entrance is actually a small cave, half-sunken into the ground; Trabian excavators have dug up enough of the earth around it to get inside. It's dark and dusty inside, but well away from the entrance, one can start to make out what may have once been a city (note: visual guide for architectural style and atmosphere only, not layout) in the stone, about ten metres down: Crumbling walls of a blue stone not found in Trabia, ornate stone doors in the most solid-looking wall with a sign carved nearby, worn pavement in that same blue stone, the ends of clay pipes sticking out of the ground, large boulders dotted around the area.

[There happens to be a ladder down to this level, though one that's seen better days.]

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[Namur barely flinches as the coffin smashes, sending debris exploding outward toward him. Instead, he cooly raises an arm to shield his face, shakes a few splinters out of his own hair, and keeps his attention on the creature.]

Tch. Yeah I think them things're pretty damn tacky too. Y' chained up in here or somethin'? Or maybe yer lookin' for somethin'? Bet y'd smell it if y' was. Here.

[Namur reaches into Davies' bag, likely causing its owner a small heart attack and fishing around for the semicircle of wood he'd bitten off the coffin upstairs, though his fingers may brush over the crystal while he's at it. He feels what he's looking for, and pulls it out to show the horned creature.]

Take a sniff a this'n, huh? Thing was empty when I checked it before but that don't mean it always was.

I think it's trapped, Namur. Just not necessarily physically.

[He's really lucky 'Diplomacy' is not a metric on this exam, because she'd have to fail him on that part. She's glad he hasn't gotten aggressive against... whatever it is, anyway.]

[The creature bellows again, its lingering agitation finally burning out its spiritually induced calm. The rank air down here is more damp than cold, but nevertheless the animal's breath seems to crystallise in the air even as a few more rocks tumble from the ceiling.

With no more warning than that, it swipes violently at the coffin fragment with a paw the size of a car, trying to knock it, Namur, and the next nearest coffins away.]

[Namur gets thrown back, but rolls up onto his feet quickly. He lost the piece in his hand, and unslings his and Davies' packs from his shoulder, tossing them over by the door.]

A'ight then, guess we'll do this the shitty hard way.

[He casts Scan, edging toward the door to intercept any moves the creature might make in that direction.]

[The creature doesn't follow Namur, or even seem interested in him once he moves away. Its ponderous feet come down again and again, attempting to pound the splinters of the coffin it just crushed into the stone floor.

Scan data:
Moloch: A sacred ice monster. Dormant until its essence was drawn from an ancient stone tablet. Its freezing breath renders all foes sluggish. Resists ice, water and wind.
Draw list: Slow, Blizzara, Aura.]

[Maria steps up to Namur's side, her blades in her hands and her focus razor-sharp on the monster now. He remains leader, so she offers no advice or comment; he's chosen the path of engagement, and can now direct her as he sees fit.]

'S called Moloch, Draws Slow, Blizzara, and Aura. Don't seem t' care 'bout much other than the shitty coffins though, eh?

[Namur huffs, running his hand over his hair.]

Let's bust 'em up an' see what happens. Thing's distressed rather'n pissed an' I'd rather we make friends than have t' try skinnin' it so it don't go t' waste. Don't let it breathe on y' though. Make y' sluggish.

[With that, he turns and slams his fists into the next nearest coffin, reducing it to firewood.]

[The coffin splinters, offering no resistance. A couple of small rocks spill out, perfectly matching the lumps of debris scattered elsewhere around the hall. Apart from those, there doesn't seem to have been anything or anyone inside.

Meanwhile, Moloch finishes pulverising the coffin it knocked over, but it doesn't seem at all satisfied. It turns, its long ears twitching, and smashes its head into a cluster of several more. There are plenty of them still standing, though...]

[Shrugging to herself, Maria begins hammering the coffins near here with her weapons, twitching the triggers to add explosive force to her strikes.]

[As before, they offer no more resistance than ordinary wood, and there doesn't seem to be anyything inside these ones either. Still, now that they've taken a few more coffins out, it's easier to see just how densely they're packed all around the edges and far side of the torch-lit hall...

Having reduced these next few coffins to sawdust, Moloch turns and lumbers back the way it came, wading back into the sea of splinters.]

[Namur catches Maria's eye and nods after the creature, then turns back to the doorway for a moment.]

Davies, grab the bags an' c'mon!

[And so they follow Moloch, stepping over piles of rubble that used to be coffins. Namur steps on one of the rocks that fell out of the coffin he decimated earlier, and he picks them up curiously.]

Huh. Weird.

[If they're small enough to fit in a pocket, he'll stash them there. Otherwise, they'll go in his bag that Davies is hopefully dutifully bringing to him.]

[Duty, sheer terror, same difference - picking his way across the splinters, Davies hurries after Namur with the bags in tow. They're more than large enough to accommodate those fist-sized lumps of battered stone.] Er - come on where?

[Namur dumps the stones into his own pack and grins at Davies.]

Wherever the hell Fuzzyass takes us. Adventure. Discovery. Ain't that the kind a shit y'all live for?

[He pokes Davies' scholarly belly and laughs, following after the monster at a leisurely pace.]

Diplomacy isn't part of the test.

[She shrugs to Davies by way of an apology for the would-be SeeD.]

[For what it's worth, Moloch isn't taking them anywhere new in a hurry. It lumbers over to the other end of the great hall, where the torches end and an enormous amphitheatre-like wall begins, and lunges at a fresh set of coffins, its undersized wings flapping to maintain its balance.

Scores and scores of intact coffins stand upright on each weathered ridge, staring impassively down.]

[Lord of the Sea this is going to take forever...]

Hey Maria. How long would it take if y' shot up all these damn coffins? Yer gun'll shred 'em, right?

It's a standard rifle, Namur, firing standard bullets. It'll put some holes in them, not shred them!

[Where did he even get that idea? She's going to take this as an excuse to advise.]

Paramagic might be quicker, or a Summon.

[Namur grunts acknowledgment, and scratches the back of his head a couple times. Then he snaps his fingers, expression lighting up.]

Ah! Got it, sweetheart. Good thinkin'.

[He summons Siren, expecting that the crashing wave that accompanies her will smash the coffins against the wall.]

[The wave mostly stirs the driftwood and rubble around Namur, Maria and Davies' feet, but several rows of the coffins up above are indeed swiftly reduced to splinters. Some of the spray catches the nearest torches in the walls, which sputter out with feeble puffs of smoke.

On one of the higher ledges, difficult to make out, something shinier than the stone walls or debris scattered around gleams for the briefest of moments - and Moloch turns its head.]

Namur!

[Difficult to make out, but not impossible. Maria points at where she'd seen the glittering.] Something up there has its attention!

[Namur squints as he starts trudging toward the ledge.]

What's it look like? Can't see shit up here.

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SeeD field exam

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