danakir
Senior Member
.....xarvh said:
I would love this.
SO HARD.
But then, you probably already knew that, didn't you?
Games you'll never run... maybe.
- Thread starter Haku1
- Start date
I would love this.
SO HARD.
But then, you probably already knew that, didn't you?
Axelgear
General Wontwit
Dante's Malfeas
Malfeas is something rather different in this campaign, and there is no Underworld. At the end of the Primordial War, for their crimes, the Incarnae sentenced Malfeas and the other Yozis to be bound to suffer for all eternity. In addition, any truly wicked person, on death, would pass out of the reincarnation cycle and instead end up in Malfeas to suffer for a term determined by their crimes before passing on.
Malfeas's layers, in this case, form a series of shells, within each of which is another Yozi, leading down to his deepest core, where each Yozi delights in tormenting those who serve them.
On the surface is Kimberry, whose black, acidic shores fill the border between Ceccylene and Malfeas proper, her hideous rivers of boiling blood, searing bile and other unmentionable and horrific things all pouring downwards into the depths of Malfeas. On the shores of Kimberry, on the endless silver banks of Ceccylene, in the desolate, bleak landscape, the dead who were neither good nor evil spend their allotted time, with nothing to comfort them, no hope of escape, but no further punishment.
After being ferried across the black ocean, on the back of the great boar Isidoros, the dead who arrive on the other side stand before the Brass Judge, one of Malfeas's subsidiary souls, where they are judged for their sins and cast into bitter torments they deserve below.
First, lies Adjoran's planes, where those given over to lust are caught in a storm of their own desires, hurled around and silenced by the cold, flaying winds. Eternally, they are kept apart from their illicit lovers, just out of reach.
Next comes the layer belonging to Hegra, whose storms sweep those within into a maddening frenzy of gluttony. All eat and are eaten, feast and are feasted upon. The constant, unmitigated stream of sensations and desires is maddening, and those within drown in the results of their own excess. They know no rest, and beg for in their deaths what they never had in life: Temperance.
Below Hegra's layer lies the Silver Forest of Szoreny. Here, an endless amount of precious metals billow forth as rivers of molten gold and towering spears of silver that pierce the victims of this layer and sear them alive, as they suffer the realization that no amount of gold or silver or jade brings them peace; only constant torment as their hunger for wealth drags them only into greater depths of pain.
'Neath Hegra's storms doth the first of Malfeas's private playgrounds burst forth. Here, those whose lives were given to wrath and sullenness do find their torment beneath seas of boiling tears, from which no hand pulls them and from which all desire to escape is stolen. Here, Malfeas's subsidiary souls sometimes appear when the former master of Creation finds his own impotent rage leading him to apathy.
Into this layer do Ceccylene's sands flow from above. Here, great, dead cities rise from the sand, where heretics and hypocrites walk, their heads turned backwards, for their lip service to the gods and their worship of darker powers. Only now, as they fall into this pit, do Yozi worshipers realize that their gasps of devotion and adulation to crippled more-than-gods were serving their own damnation.
Malfeas's second ground to torment rises here, where the violent rage endless battles in rivers of boiling blood drawn from the black river of Kimberry above. Their rage never ceases, their minds broken as they realize that their lust for destruction only leads to their own worse fate, each man held beneath to a depth equal to all the blood he has spilled in life.
Next lies the realm of She Who Lives In Her Name. 49,997 pits dot the surface of this black, dark rock, hidden far from Ligier's light at the surface of the city. In each is confined those whose lives were filled with lies, in opposition to the objective truth she brings, each frozen in place as they are battered eternally with individual pains deemed 49,997 times worse than their crime.
Finally, at the deepest place, in blackest darkness, where but the dimmest flecks of green light shine down from above, lies the place reserved for the Ebon Dragon, where the falling waters from Kimberry freeze in the icy stygian night, and all the worst sinners arrive here: The place made for traitors. The Ebon Dragon plays eternal games with his toys, leading them in constant games and intrigues that leave them always afraid, horrified, realizing the constant precarious position their betrayals place them in, with the full knowledge that, at any time, the dragon could destroy them and they could lose everything.
In this setting, a group of Exalts must fight their way down, deep into the bowels of Malfeas and, in the Ebon Dragon's lair, slay the Phylactery-Womb, freeing the Solar Exaltations from the clutches of the Yozis, after fighting their way through layer after layer of minions and forcing their way through the cities of the damned.
But who'd want to play a game like that, am I right?
Malfeas is something rather different in this campaign, and there is no Underworld. At the end of the Primordial War, for their crimes, the Incarnae sentenced Malfeas and the other Yozis to be bound to suffer for all eternity. In addition, any truly wicked person, on death, would pass out of the reincarnation cycle and instead end up in Malfeas to suffer for a term determined by their crimes before passing on.
Malfeas's layers, in this case, form a series of shells, within each of which is another Yozi, leading down to his deepest core, where each Yozi delights in tormenting those who serve them.
On the surface is Kimberry, whose black, acidic shores fill the border between Ceccylene and Malfeas proper, her hideous rivers of boiling blood, searing bile and other unmentionable and horrific things all pouring downwards into the depths of Malfeas. On the shores of Kimberry, on the endless silver banks of Ceccylene, in the desolate, bleak landscape, the dead who were neither good nor evil spend their allotted time, with nothing to comfort them, no hope of escape, but no further punishment.
After being ferried across the black ocean, on the back of the great boar Isidoros, the dead who arrive on the other side stand before the Brass Judge, one of Malfeas's subsidiary souls, where they are judged for their sins and cast into bitter torments they deserve below.
First, lies Adjoran's planes, where those given over to lust are caught in a storm of their own desires, hurled around and silenced by the cold, flaying winds. Eternally, they are kept apart from their illicit lovers, just out of reach.
Next comes the layer belonging to Hegra, whose storms sweep those within into a maddening frenzy of gluttony. All eat and are eaten, feast and are feasted upon. The constant, unmitigated stream of sensations and desires is maddening, and those within drown in the results of their own excess. They know no rest, and beg for in their deaths what they never had in life: Temperance.
Below Hegra's layer lies the Silver Forest of Szoreny. Here, an endless amount of precious metals billow forth as rivers of molten gold and towering spears of silver that pierce the victims of this layer and sear them alive, as they suffer the realization that no amount of gold or silver or jade brings them peace; only constant torment as their hunger for wealth drags them only into greater depths of pain.
'Neath Hegra's storms doth the first of Malfeas's private playgrounds burst forth. Here, those whose lives were given to wrath and sullenness do find their torment beneath seas of boiling tears, from which no hand pulls them and from which all desire to escape is stolen. Here, Malfeas's subsidiary souls sometimes appear when the former master of Creation finds his own impotent rage leading him to apathy.
Into this layer do Ceccylene's sands flow from above. Here, great, dead cities rise from the sand, where heretics and hypocrites walk, their heads turned backwards, for their lip service to the gods and their worship of darker powers. Only now, as they fall into this pit, do Yozi worshipers realize that their gasps of devotion and adulation to crippled more-than-gods were serving their own damnation.
Malfeas's second ground to torment rises here, where the violent rage endless battles in rivers of boiling blood drawn from the black river of Kimberry above. Their rage never ceases, their minds broken as they realize that their lust for destruction only leads to their own worse fate, each man held beneath to a depth equal to all the blood he has spilled in life.
Next lies the realm of She Who Lives In Her Name. 49,997 pits dot the surface of this black, dark rock, hidden far from Ligier's light at the surface of the city. In each is confined those whose lives were filled with lies, in opposition to the objective truth she brings, each frozen in place as they are battered eternally with individual pains deemed 49,997 times worse than their crime.
Finally, at the deepest place, in blackest darkness, where but the dimmest flecks of green light shine down from above, lies the place reserved for the Ebon Dragon, where the falling waters from Kimberry freeze in the icy stygian night, and all the worst sinners arrive here: The place made for traitors. The Ebon Dragon plays eternal games with his toys, leading them in constant games and intrigues that leave them always afraid, horrified, realizing the constant precarious position their betrayals place them in, with the full knowledge that, at any time, the dragon could destroy them and they could lose everything.
In this setting, a group of Exalts must fight their way down, deep into the bowels of Malfeas and, in the Ebon Dragon's lair, slay the Phylactery-Womb, freeing the Solar Exaltations from the clutches of the Yozis, after fighting their way through layer after layer of minions and forcing their way through the cities of the damned.
But who'd want to play a game like that, am I right?
MorkaisChosen
One Thousand Club
Three words.
Oh.
Em.
Gee.
Oh.
Em.
Gee.
Axelgear
General Wontwit
Glad you like it. I always liked the Inferno, so very evocative, but I'm useless at running things.
One I always think about is Legacy of Kain.
The setting is ABSOLUTLY perfect for exalted.
Kain is deified. The Clans tell tales of Him. Few know the truth. He was mortal once, as were we all. However, His contempt for humanity drove him to create me, and my brethren.
I am Raziel, first-born of His lieutenants. I stood with Kain and my brethren at the dawn of the empire. I have served Him a millennium. Over time, we became less human and more ...divine. Kain would enter the state of change and emerge with a new gift. Some years after the master, our evolution would follow. Until I had the honor of surpassing my lord. For my transgression, I earned a new kind of reward... agony.
There was only one possible outcome - my eternal damnation. I, Raziel, was to suffer the fate of traitors and weaklings - to burn forever in the bowels of the Lake of the Dead.
Once a glorious circle of solars, Chejop Kejak though you outgrowing your power and struck you down.
Losing you into the underworld, through sheer torment and determination you survived as ghosts... maybe a little more.
And now you want blood and revenge from him. Rejecting the pull of lethe whether from the intensity of your suffering or sheer determine hate, you live on, only to find another being, hidden from creation, willing to give you what you crave in return for servitude.
Elder God: I know you, Raziel. You are worthy.
Raziel: What madness is this? What pitiful form is this that I have come to inhabit? Death would be a release, next to this travesty.
Elder God: You did not survive the abyss, Raziel. I have only spared you from total dissolution.
Raziel: I would choose oblivion over this existence!
Elder God: The choice is not yours.
Pretty much flavour it like Legacy of Kain, high dramatics, murder, mahem betrayal, incredibly twisted time travelling, discovery of ones not so glorious past.
You would play as the rising deathlords, first into gaining the power then into taking revenge right to the Sidereals doorstep. Until you reach that final edge and make a choice, toss creation into the void, Sacrifice yourself to let creation win... Or to challenge the Fates for another throw, a better throw, against one's destiny - what was a king to do?
But does one ever truly have a choice? One can only match, move by move, the machinations of Fate, and thus defy the tyrannous stars.
Annnnd.. I think I'm going to take this over to the. Hey guys who wants to play thread...
The setting is ABSOLUTLY perfect for exalted.
Kain is deified. The Clans tell tales of Him. Few know the truth. He was mortal once, as were we all. However, His contempt for humanity drove him to create me, and my brethren.
I am Raziel, first-born of His lieutenants. I stood with Kain and my brethren at the dawn of the empire. I have served Him a millennium. Over time, we became less human and more ...divine. Kain would enter the state of change and emerge with a new gift. Some years after the master, our evolution would follow. Until I had the honor of surpassing my lord. For my transgression, I earned a new kind of reward... agony.
There was only one possible outcome - my eternal damnation. I, Raziel, was to suffer the fate of traitors and weaklings - to burn forever in the bowels of the Lake of the Dead.
Once a glorious circle of solars, Chejop Kejak though you outgrowing your power and struck you down.
Losing you into the underworld, through sheer torment and determination you survived as ghosts... maybe a little more.
And now you want blood and revenge from him. Rejecting the pull of lethe whether from the intensity of your suffering or sheer determine hate, you live on, only to find another being, hidden from creation, willing to give you what you crave in return for servitude.
Elder God: I know you, Raziel. You are worthy.
Raziel: What madness is this? What pitiful form is this that I have come to inhabit? Death would be a release, next to this travesty.
Elder God: You did not survive the abyss, Raziel. I have only spared you from total dissolution.
Raziel: I would choose oblivion over this existence!
Elder God: The choice is not yours.
Pretty much flavour it like Legacy of Kain, high dramatics, murder, mahem betrayal, incredibly twisted time travelling, discovery of ones not so glorious past.
You would play as the rising deathlords, first into gaining the power then into taking revenge right to the Sidereals doorstep. Until you reach that final edge and make a choice, toss creation into the void, Sacrifice yourself to let creation win... Or to challenge the Fates for another throw, a better throw, against one's destiny - what was a king to do?
But does one ever truly have a choice? One can only match, move by move, the machinations of Fate, and thus defy the tyrannous stars.
Annnnd.. I think I'm going to take this over to the. Hey guys who wants to play thread...
Axelgear
General Wontwit
Exalted: The Musical!
Wordless Prelude: The Primordials birth Creation
Act 1: Wherein the gods plot and conspire
Divine Chorus: Priiiiimordiaaaals... Priiiiimordiaaaaals...
Sol: Out from the Wyld, from the chaos, stepped some figures. No-one really knew their names for sure. They are creatures, greater than any before them; pray their presence never makes your end premature.
Luna: We, their Incarna, their greatest creations, who slave all night and day to help deal with their stress, we who work hard, who fix Creation when they break it, are far more deserving to be blessed!
Venus: To but oppose them, to strike them, we cannot do due to their great geas. They would hardly need to stop playing, to have our entire rebellion arrest.
Divine Chorus: Priiiiimordiaaaals... Priiiiimordiaaaaals...
Mars: And none of us are free from these horrors, for eons ago we were all forged for their jest. From our toil does their amusement draw, and as they are without flaw, we obey the laws of the-
Divine Chorus: Priiiiimordiaaaals! Priiiiimordiaaaaals! OoooAAAAAooooo!
Exeunt Omnes
Wordless Prelude: The Primordials birth Creation
Act 1: Wherein the gods plot and conspire
Divine Chorus: Priiiiimordiaaaals... Priiiiimordiaaaaals...
Sol: Out from the Wyld, from the chaos, stepped some figures. No-one really knew their names for sure. They are creatures, greater than any before them; pray their presence never makes your end premature.
Luna: We, their Incarna, their greatest creations, who slave all night and day to help deal with their stress, we who work hard, who fix Creation when they break it, are far more deserving to be blessed!
Venus: To but oppose them, to strike them, we cannot do due to their great geas. They would hardly need to stop playing, to have our entire rebellion arrest.
Divine Chorus: Priiiiimordiaaaals... Priiiiimordiaaaaals...
Mars: And none of us are free from these horrors, for eons ago we were all forged for their jest. From our toil does their amusement draw, and as they are without flaw, we obey the laws of the-
Divine Chorus: Priiiiimordiaaaals! Priiiiimordiaaaaals! OoooAAAAAooooo!
Exeunt Omnes
Night of the Living Dead
The exalted are travelling through the border marches, when a strnge contagion forces them to hid in a rundown old farmhouse as hungry ghosts rise and corpses walk.
Faster then normal and EVERY dead is becoming both a hungry ghost and risen corpse.
Once The exltaded have run out the farm house they make their way to a larger city where the communal market building seems lkike just the palce to fortify, it gives them time to rest and fortify, and even live for a while, until roaming band of Dragon blooded Raixders want their supplies and destroys their lives.
Running once more they reach a Fortified Manse, where they join Some more dragonblooded (where they really the only ones to survive through this?) Whose experiments cause the base to be over run with undead once more.
And the heroes run once more and move into a city, chasing and destroying the risen dead away and fortifying the city and making it into a new city state within this land of the dead.
The exalted are travelling through the border marches, when a strnge contagion forces them to hid in a rundown old farmhouse as hungry ghosts rise and corpses walk.
Faster then normal and EVERY dead is becoming both a hungry ghost and risen corpse.
Once The exltaded have run out the farm house they make their way to a larger city where the communal market building seems lkike just the palce to fortify, it gives them time to rest and fortify, and even live for a while, until roaming band of Dragon blooded Raixders want their supplies and destroys their lives.
Running once more they reach a Fortified Manse, where they join Some more dragonblooded (where they really the only ones to survive through this?) Whose experiments cause the base to be over run with undead once more.
And the heroes run once more and move into a city, chasing and destroying the risen dead away and fortifying the city and making it into a new city state within this land of the dead.
MorkaisChosen
One Thousand Club
Axelgear said:
danakir
Senior Member
The Crusade of Eternity
Most people can agree that Oblivion is the antithesis of the Wyld. As such from the perspective of the Raksha, Oblivion is an abomination. It is beyond wrong, it is beyond hatred, contempt and disgust. It is something that shouldn't be. It is not the story of the end of the world. It is no ending. It's... nothing.
Just nothing.
And it shouldn't be. It is narrative void and it is the denial of beginning and the first and last 'true' ending, and they cannot have that. No, it is everything that they are not and more, it is wrong, so very very wrong. I can't imagine that any of them could do anything but instinctively recoil in unspeakable horror and wretched agony, because it is beyond the keen of their conception of existence and the way 'things should be'.
Yet what if they revelers of the Wyld were to learn of the true nature of the Underworld en masse mm?
The Crusade of Eternity.
Using the Assumption of Cerements and Bones, the endless and infinite legions of the Wyld, the invincible army of the Raksha and their towering Behemoths, those slumbering superweapons forgotten from beyond time and space and then the warping of the Underworld itself as it cracks and falls apart, washed by the sudden surge of potent possibility clashing against their nihilistic static state.
The underworld itself washed clean until there is nothing left.
Nothing but the Neverborn... and the hungry maw of Oblivion.
And so! Hear me!
The armies of the Wyld march against Oblivion.
Their soldiers are innumerable.
Their numbers are legion
Their siege engines unlike anything ever seen.
This is the washing tides of the Wyld.
This is the impossible army of the Wyld
This is the invincible glory of the Raksha
This is the undeniable will of the Raksha
The armies of the Wyld march against Oblivion
They know no fear, for fear is their blade
They know no death, for death is their dream
They know no defeat, for defeat is their whim
They know no end, for the horizon itself is their hand
And now they roar and the sky itself tears apart
And now they stomp and the silence is broken
And now the cold etheral blood runs as rivers
And now they great beasts shall devour the Underworld
For this is the stand against banality
Against this static eternity of fatality
For this is the true calling of the Wyld
Against the abomination of the void
This is the Crusade of Eternity
The Raksha on one side, all of them. Every last Raksha in Creation. In the guise of the Reaper and with skin flawless as chalk and with empty eyes of charcoal and all their regal glory plain to sight! The blind fool gods of the Wyld have come, their royal blood promises a story of inevitable defeat, woe to those they fell! Woe to those who would stand against them!
Theirs is hopeless and vain struggle...
The Underworld's fearsome armies on the other side. Every Deathlord and every Deathknight and every frightening ghost and every last Hekatonkire. Death itself, in fact. Destruction on an unprecedented scale, the science of warfare pitch perfect such that it will leave even the Incarnae speechless in ghastly awe! Woe to those who would meet them in their ghoulish homes, for they are deathless.
The machine of bone and flesh and blood grotesque is ready for operation and it will pause not even for the lying devourers clad in the false regalia of nobility.
Their clash is that which will write legend eternal, and what Raksha in their right mind could refuse to participate to such a story?
Most people can agree that Oblivion is the antithesis of the Wyld. As such from the perspective of the Raksha, Oblivion is an abomination. It is beyond wrong, it is beyond hatred, contempt and disgust. It is something that shouldn't be. It is not the story of the end of the world. It is no ending. It's... nothing.
Just nothing.
And it shouldn't be. It is narrative void and it is the denial of beginning and the first and last 'true' ending, and they cannot have that. No, it is everything that they are not and more, it is wrong, so very very wrong. I can't imagine that any of them could do anything but instinctively recoil in unspeakable horror and wretched agony, because it is beyond the keen of their conception of existence and the way 'things should be'.
Yet what if they revelers of the Wyld were to learn of the true nature of the Underworld en masse mm?
The Crusade of Eternity.
Using the Assumption of Cerements and Bones, the endless and infinite legions of the Wyld, the invincible army of the Raksha and their towering Behemoths, those slumbering superweapons forgotten from beyond time and space and then the warping of the Underworld itself as it cracks and falls apart, washed by the sudden surge of potent possibility clashing against their nihilistic static state.
The underworld itself washed clean until there is nothing left.
Nothing but the Neverborn... and the hungry maw of Oblivion.
And so! Hear me!
The armies of the Wyld march against Oblivion.
Their soldiers are innumerable.
Their numbers are legion
Their siege engines unlike anything ever seen.
This is the washing tides of the Wyld.
This is the impossible army of the Wyld
This is the invincible glory of the Raksha
This is the undeniable will of the Raksha
The armies of the Wyld march against Oblivion
They know no fear, for fear is their blade
They know no death, for death is their dream
They know no defeat, for defeat is their whim
They know no end, for the horizon itself is their hand
And now they roar and the sky itself tears apart
And now they stomp and the silence is broken
And now the cold etheral blood runs as rivers
And now they great beasts shall devour the Underworld
For this is the stand against banality
Against this static eternity of fatality
For this is the true calling of the Wyld
Against the abomination of the void
This is the Crusade of Eternity
The Raksha on one side, all of them. Every last Raksha in Creation. In the guise of the Reaper and with skin flawless as chalk and with empty eyes of charcoal and all their regal glory plain to sight! The blind fool gods of the Wyld have come, their royal blood promises a story of inevitable defeat, woe to those they fell! Woe to those who would stand against them!
Theirs is hopeless and vain struggle...
The Underworld's fearsome armies on the other side. Every Deathlord and every Deathknight and every frightening ghost and every last Hekatonkire. Death itself, in fact. Destruction on an unprecedented scale, the science of warfare pitch perfect such that it will leave even the Incarnae speechless in ghastly awe! Woe to those who would meet them in their ghoulish homes, for they are deathless.
The machine of bone and flesh and blood grotesque is ready for operation and it will pause not even for the lying devourers clad in the false regalia of nobility.
Their clash is that which will write legend eternal, and what Raksha in their right mind could refuse to participate to such a story?
As you might imagine, there's no way in hell I'll ever get to run this. xD
Axelgear
General Wontwit
.... I'm gonna have to ask for some credit on this, y'know. 
Haku1
Ze Hamster of Lurkdom
I... I... would LOVE to play in this. :shock:
MorkaisChosen
One Thousand Club
Wow. I know Exalted tends to quite an epic scale, but... Wow.
Axelgear
General Wontwit
The Malfeas Family
An entire family of Yozi worshipers prove potential for Exaltation, and are offered the Infernal Exaltation by the demonic masters who hope to use the strong demon-blooded family ties to encourage loyalty. The result is an entire family of Exalts, eager to serve the dark masters of the demon realm!
The Sun'll Come Out Tomorrow
The Unconquered Sun has become so involved in the Games of Divinity that he has refused to even discuss the daily travel of his chariot across the Heavens and no new Solar Exalts can be chosen without his stamp on the paperwork. The heroes opinion on Sol aside, it has become evident that, unless someone can go into the Games of Divinity and drag him out of there, Creation is doomed to a dark end.
An entire family of Yozi worshipers prove potential for Exaltation, and are offered the Infernal Exaltation by the demonic masters who hope to use the strong demon-blooded family ties to encourage loyalty. The result is an entire family of Exalts, eager to serve the dark masters of the demon realm!
The Sun'll Come Out Tomorrow
The Unconquered Sun has become so involved in the Games of Divinity that he has refused to even discuss the daily travel of his chariot across the Heavens and no new Solar Exalts can be chosen without his stamp on the paperwork. The heroes opinion on Sol aside, it has become evident that, unless someone can go into the Games of Divinity and drag him out of there, Creation is doomed to a dark end.
magnificentmomo
That Guy
Everything Fae gives me a rager, and that was awesome. The balance would be tenuous; Raksha can be beefy if you are able to work out the kinks, but Solar level combatants fuck your shit. Granted if there are infinity plus raksha it evens out, but how does the player stay central in a sea of untold millions just like them? My guess would be creating some sort of "elite" raksha to be played.
Tabby
Derpsichord
Do Raksha even have perfect defenses?
to non-shaping attacks, that is. aka the stuff that KILLS THEM
to non-shaping attacks, that is. aka the stuff that KILLS THEM
MorkaisChosen
One Thousand Club
Pretty sure I've been told they don't. All it'd take is one Deathlord-bound Solar Circle Sorcerer with Total Annihilation (and plenty of Motes and Willpower, OK...) to cause the Raksha serious trouble...
Tabby
Derpsichord
Raksha have pretty bullshit offense, though. I forget the charm name, but there's a 3-charm tree that culminates in giving them effectively 5 free attacks at full dicepool every action. Or they would be free if you had PDs for defense, but since Raksha are gimped that way...
edit: OKAY I DO NOT HAVE THE BOOK HANDY SO FEEL FREE TO CORRECT ME IF I WAS WRONG but that's how I remember it.
edit: OKAY I DO NOT HAVE THE BOOK HANDY SO FEEL FREE TO CORRECT ME IF I WAS WRONG but that's how I remember it.
magnificentmomo
That Guy
Yeah, they can get 5 attacks at full pool.
They get a charm that allows them to block the unblockable, and they can have a fucking ridiculous DV, but there is currently nothing that deals with accuracy without distance type effects. Also, there is a terrible flaw in the block the unblockable effect, in that most unblockable effects don't have an associated roll so how are you supposed to deal with them once they are no longer unblockable?
A charm after imposition of law, with heavy requirements, and that is expensive, that allows for it to still work in the presence on a stunt or charms wouldn't badwrong, imo. There was actually one written up on the WW board by segev, that wasn't torn apart immediately, that necessitated stunting to counter effects.
They get a charm that allows them to block the unblockable, and they can have a fucking ridiculous DV, but there is currently nothing that deals with accuracy without distance type effects. Also, there is a terrible flaw in the block the unblockable effect, in that most unblockable effects don't have an associated roll so how are you supposed to deal with them once they are no longer unblockable?
A charm after imposition of law, with heavy requirements, and that is expensive, that allows for it to still work in the presence on a stunt or charms wouldn't badwrong, imo. There was actually one written up on the WW board by segev, that wasn't torn apart immediately, that necessitated stunting to counter effects.
danakir
Senior Member
If something is no longer unblockable, then you just roll it as a normal attack obviously.magnificentmomo said:
magnificentmomo
That Guy
I can't remember many of the instances, but the roll was unclear in some of them. That would be the obvious way to handle it though. It has been awhile since I've been through this conversation. So it would probably not be a big deal, and I am remembering it all incorrectly.
It costs a gossamer per use though.
It costs a gossamer per use though.
danakir
Senior Member
Yes, unless it's a mutation. In which case as precised in the paragraph on charms as permanent mutations, every cost in motes, willpower and gossamer is forfeited.
The Raksha aren't half as helpless as some people think.
They're not half as overpowered as some people think.
The truth is that, for better or worse, they're dangerous and powerful but extremely hard to enhance.
The loss of Excellencies may not seem like a big deal, but it's easily one of the worst problems they have.
The Raksha aren't half as helpless as some people think.
They're not half as overpowered as some people think.
The truth is that, for better or worse, they're dangerous and powerful but extremely hard to enhance.
The loss of Excellencies may not seem like a big deal, but it's easily one of the worst problems they have.
magnificentmomo
That Guy
Preaching to the choir.
I think we have gotten off track and are forgetting that this game that will never happen is friggin' awesome.
I think we have gotten off track and are forgetting that this game that will never happen is friggin' awesome.
knightfall
Junior Member
Exalted Exiles
A group of five (?) (give-or-take) Exalts are all taken from parallel Creations. In some, the Primordials won. In some, Luna was the head of the pantheon, and the Solars instead have Lunar bond. In some, the Usurpation failed. In some, the Vision of Gold prevailed. The possibilities are endless... but the fact remains that each comes from a world fundamentally different.
But now, not only their individual Creations, but all of Reality, every possible Creation in the Well of Udr is crumbling, and these five Exalts must find a way to save it, sometimes by small, insignificant deeds, and sometimes by epic quests, in each parallel Creation they visit. Can they find the secret to saving everything? Or will their actions only lead to Reality's downfall all the more rapidly? Will they ever go home again?
A group of five (?) (give-or-take) Exalts are all taken from parallel Creations. In some, the Primordials won. In some, Luna was the head of the pantheon, and the Solars instead have Lunar bond. In some, the Usurpation failed. In some, the Vision of Gold prevailed. The possibilities are endless... but the fact remains that each comes from a world fundamentally different.
But now, not only their individual Creations, but all of Reality, every possible Creation in the Well of Udr is crumbling, and these five Exalts must find a way to save it, sometimes by small, insignificant deeds, and sometimes by epic quests, in each parallel Creation they visit. Can they find the secret to saving everything? Or will their actions only lead to Reality's downfall all the more rapidly? Will they ever go home again?
Haku1
Ze Hamster of Lurkdom
Stolen from here.
I couldn't sleep and was bored, and so looked at ancient Exalted Wiki that weren't official.
***
> Patkin > "Hey, sure they tore apart people and made them into living organ gardens, and turned their back on their god and patron, and destroyed entire cities over petty duels, and stole and killed and a whole bunch of other bad things but...at least the trains ran on time."
You know, it'd be kind of interesting to play in an Exalted game where the Sidereals *didn't* arrange the Usurpation.
"You hate them, of course.
"You live in a world run by mad and terrible gods. On their altars you have sacrificed everything that ever mattered to you. They call themselves the Solar Exalted. In that tiny little space at the back of your mind where you retain some fragment of self, you call them 'monsters' and 'architects of horror.'
"There is nothing in you that they have not defiled.
"And now you have the power to fight.
"It happens. Every few centuries, there's another hero. Or another five. Or another ten. Some disaster manages to kill a few of the monsters, and their power rages out into the world and finds . . . someone like you. Someone who's managed to hang on to just a little bit of hate.
"You will fight them. It's necessity, and also tradition. You will fight with every bone and fibre of your being to wipe this scourge from the world, and with the noblest of motives. Perhaps, to reach your full power in time, you will bargain with the exiled Yozis, or the restless dead, or the great chimera of the outer fringes of the world. What other hope do you have?
"You're on a clock, you see. It's why they tolerate you. Ten years, twenty years, fifty years . . . or sometimes five.
"That's how long you have before you're one of them."
I couldn't sleep and was bored, and so looked at ancient Exalted Wiki that weren't official.
***
> Patkin > "Hey, sure they tore apart people and made them into living organ gardens, and turned their back on their god and patron, and destroyed entire cities over petty duels, and stole and killed and a whole bunch of other bad things but...at least the trains ran on time."
You know, it'd be kind of interesting to play in an Exalted game where the Sidereals *didn't* arrange the Usurpation.
"You hate them, of course.
"You live in a world run by mad and terrible gods. On their altars you have sacrificed everything that ever mattered to you. They call themselves the Solar Exalted. In that tiny little space at the back of your mind where you retain some fragment of self, you call them 'monsters' and 'architects of horror.'
"There is nothing in you that they have not defiled.
"And now you have the power to fight.
"It happens. Every few centuries, there's another hero. Or another five. Or another ten. Some disaster manages to kill a few of the monsters, and their power rages out into the world and finds . . . someone like you. Someone who's managed to hang on to just a little bit of hate.
"You will fight them. It's necessity, and also tradition. You will fight with every bone and fibre of your being to wipe this scourge from the world, and with the noblest of motives. Perhaps, to reach your full power in time, you will bargain with the exiled Yozis, or the restless dead, or the great chimera of the outer fringes of the world. What other hope do you have?
"You're on a clock, you see. It's why they tolerate you. Ten years, twenty years, fifty years . . . or sometimes five.
"That's how long you have before you're one of them."
MorkaisChosen
One Thousand Club
I'd play both of the last two.
In fact, it hasn't escaped my notice that it'd be possible to do both at the same time...
In fact, it hasn't escaped my notice that it'd be possible to do both at the same time...