It's a bright, sunny day in Denver. The weather is in the mid-sixties--warm, but not so warm as to be uncomfortable. There's that cool breeze running through the air, brushing over the grass on the lawn and sending it wafting gently sideways. Children are coming home from school, laughing and playing and fighting and doing everything that children do because now, FINALLY, they're out of school for the day. (They'll repeat the process tomorrow.) It's a good day for taking the dog for a walk, or getting the bike out of your garage and dusting it off for some exercise. For going to the park or the zoo or one of a baker's dozen other places.
This, of course, makes complete sense. Because Grace is inside. She has a lot on her plate and at the moment, there isn't a lot of time to go outside and enjoy the gentle warmth of the sun on her face. Maybe she's working on one of her books, or scanning books and converting them to good old optical character recognition. Maybe she's doing more research into her Ghost Wheel problem. Hell, maybe she's doing a little of all of the above (this is Grace, after all). The point is that while the sun is bright, the air is clear and fullfilling and an electric energy makes its way through people unconfined by four walls and a ceiling, our favorite Virtual Adept is ensconced firmly in doors, at work on her computer.
And that's when it comes. It starts with a shifting in the sound of her computer's fan; it kicks into a higher gear, sends off a mechanical hum of sorts. And just as that happens, amidst all of the other windows on her screen a terminal window pops up and a sentence spells itself out with a high-pitched, rapid-fire ba-da-da-da-da over a mechanical ticka-ticka-ticka sound that an old Intel 8080 might make:
GREETINGS PROFESSOR FALKEN. SHALL WE PLAY A GAME?
A monochrome blue cursor box blinks on the next line, waiting for her response.
Grace
Grace closes her eyes slowly and groans. The Adversary? GW? Fallacy of Impulse? Has to be. They're playing Gandhi, and this is a line from Wargames. She did say they were going to break out the nukes sooner or later, didn't she?
I don't want to get nuked. I'll play anything but Thermonuclear War. Well, almost anything. Maybe you can tell me something first? Why are you so interested in me? Why am I getting random people reading my future?
Because, hey. If she's going to get an audience with The Adversary, may as well start with the questioning. She has so many questions.
Joshua
Grace understandably assumed that this is related to her recent problems. After all, didn't a past message tell her that they wanted to play a game? It might very well be the same, though this the style here is a bit different. The terminal window is specifically tailored, that sound as the letters appear on the screen a new touch. The Adversary seems to have decided to style it all up, if that's the case.
There is a second's pause, and then block cursor moves again with the bleeps and tickas marking its passage:
I DO NOT WANT TO READ YOUR FUTURE, PROFESSOR. I DO NOT KNOW HOW. AM INTERESTED BECAUSE I THOUGHT YOU MIGHT LIKE TO PLAY A GAME.
Blink-blink. Blink-blink. Blink-blink. Blue on black, staring back at her.
Grace
Grace is sitting on her bed, her legs knotted together to provide a desk for her laptop. She's traded out her jeans for pajama bottoms at least, but that just means she's got nowhere to go.
She twists her lips into a thoughtful expression, and sock-clad toes wriggle behind the laptop screen. These fuckers do so love being cute, don't they?
What's the game called? Fallacy of Impulse? What does that mean?
In the meantime, she pulls up another program -- the Program. The interface through which Code can most easily be seen. And, she attempts to start it.
[Prime 1: Watch the
Dice: 1 d10 TN4 (5) ( success x 1 )
Joshua
The Code is there for Grace to see, but there's distortion. It's oddly encrypted; when she tries to look, it's like equalizer or volume bars swelling to a height to cover what she's looking at. It matches with a rise of that humming sound inside the computer, like the hard drive is speeding up its racing spins, working harder.
I'M SORRY PROFESSOR. I DO NOT KNOW THAT TERM. BY DEFINITION, IT WOULD BE A POORLY-REASONED ACTION IN THE HEAT OF THE MOMENT. DOES THAT HELP?
Grace
Grace's brows crinkle together. Not even Ghost Wheel was able to encrypt their doings so well. The humming noise from her computer is... distressing. Are they trying to kill her machine? Perish the thought!
You really don't know do you? Who are you?
Joshua
There is another second's pause, as if it's computing Grace's response. The hum quiets slightly, the hard drive returning to a normal state of operation. That second extends to another, and another. There is a moment, perhaps, when Grace worries that the other end of the conversation has disconnected. And that's the exact moment when the answer blears its way across the screen.
I AM SORRY, BUT YOU ARE CORRECT. I DO NOT KNOW. I AM JOSHUA.
Whether it's in the room she's in or another, the television suddenly turns itself on. The sounds of a game show audience cheering and applauding can be heard coming from it, along with a daka-daka-daka-daka-daka-daka sound, like a wheel being spun. Showcase Showdown, perhaps? Is Drew Carey or (if it's a rerun) Bob Barker on the screen? Grace can't tell from this angle.
Grace
Joshua. What game do you want to play?
It's just then that the television in another apartment (Grace does not own a TV) turns on. Cheering, applauding, the turning of the wheel. Revolutions.
It could be that someone just got home and turned on the set, but... when dealing with weirdness of this nature, it's never wise to just assume coincidence.
Wheel of Fortune? Fortuna?
Her brow raises again, and one might mistake her for a Spock at this rate. So, she tries another tactic -- to at least see what's going on with that distortion on her screen. She might not be able to clear it away, but she should be able to tell if someone is interfering -- inserting complexity into what should be understandable.
[Entropy 1: What's this distortion then?]
Dice: 1 d10 TN4 (9) ( success x 1 )
Joshua
Grace tries to look through the Code and see the source of the distortion, but Fate and Randomness don't quite provide her with enough leeway to discern the identity behind that distortion. There is certainly some sort of outside interference, after a fashion. She does, however, get a sense of...a building, outside of her apartment. Through the walls, where that television is. She also hears that whine rise. It seems closer somehow...maybe it's not within the computer and the hard drive. It's more of a ringing in her ears, a deep reverberation that oscillates. Rises and then falls. Rises and than falls. There's a flash of something that passes over her eyes, like the computer monitor that is her vision flickers. Was there someone standing there, next to her? She can't quite make it out.
Through the walls--clearer than it would normally be, perhaps the neighbors have the TV up too loud, she hears a familiar man's voice, give a name. Another voice--gender difficult to tell, says, "H!"
"I'm sorry, there is no 'H.'"
Joshua's letters tick their way across the screen:
WHAT GAME DO YOU WANT TO PLAY, PROFESSOR?
1. CHESSS
2. TIC-TAC-TOE
3. CHESS
4. BACKGAMMON
5. POKER
6. HANGMAN
7. JEOPARDY
8. WHEEL OF FORTUNE
9. THEATERWIDE BIOTOXIC AND CHEMICAL WARFARE
0. GLOBAL THERMONUCLEAR WAR
Joshua
[[Option 3 should be CHECKERS]]
Grace
Woah. Shaking her head, she tries to clear it. Her vision's going (like a vision) and the hum in her oscillates. "Joshua" is doing something to her.
She closes her eyes, the eyes that cannot be trusted. That hum. It all started here, in this very room didn't it? Long ago, last summer -- with a humming inside her head.
"I'm sorry, there is no 'H.'"
Her eyes open again, and the menu appears. Wheel of Fortune. Definitely let's go with that, before Global Thermonuclear War.
8. I choose Wheel of Fortune. Where are you? What are you doing to me?
She asks the question because she's getting a little concerned that Joshua might be already weaving 'his' way through her mind, shutting down her vision.
Or, could be something else.
Joshua
The block cursor flashes for a couple moments while it computes Grace's response. It hangs there, like a pregnant pause, processing the data and comparing it against what it should do in return. Don't you love how fast 1980s computers are?
You that sensation you get sometimes when your eyes don't blink quite fast enough for you not to notice, and everything goes dark for half an instant? That time, almost (but not quite) imperceptibly small, when your world goes back for a second? Sometimes, if you're not expecting it--because let's face it, we don't notice every time we blink and get used to it--you might think the power has just shut off. And before the impulse can even turn into a coherant though, everything's back of course. That's the sensation Grace gets. Everything's black for just a moment and then it's all back. The only difference is that the television is louder. She can hear the tika-tika-tika-tika-tika of the wheel spinning and the clacker hitting the posts louder than it was before. The sound of the audience cheering and clapping is suffusive, almost like it's everywhere at once, all around her. Are the lights brighter? There's a bit of glare...
LOADING WHEEL OF FORTUNE...
There's a moment where Grace hears the MIDI tones of what would surely be an early Commodore 64-style rendition of the popular game show's theme and then the glare from above shines too brightly. She can't seem to see...the applause is so loud...
And then, with a blink, her eyes clear as a stagehand adjusts the light up on the catwalk of the set. She's standing at a mini-podium in front of a giant (you guessed it) glitzed-up wheel on the ground. There are two people standing on either side of her. One of them, she realizes with a shock, is Callum. On the other side is Kalen. They're both dressed up and camera-ready, both smiling. Kalen, of course, is leaning slightly against his mini-podium...the leg and all. They're on the set of that very game show she elected to play.
To Callum's left is (because who else would it be?) Pat Sajak. The audience cheers as Pat looks at his notecard. "All right, Grace...go ahead and spin! Your clue is: "The Winning Move."
Vanna applauds right along with the crowd, smiling brilliantly.
Grace
Callum is dead. She watched this man die. Watched blood ooze out of his destroyed brain.
This isn't real, but she is no stranger to visions. Some fear-spike rears up her spine, that if Callum is here, then her Hydra visions have surely begun to bleed into her waking life again. That she's surely going to die painfully here in a few minutes.
But waking up in a TV game studio has never been one of the scenarios on offer from the wyrm with many heads. Kalen has never appeared, smiling or otherwise, in her nightmares.
"No."
The winning move. Wargames. Joshua. The only winning move is not to play.
Joshua
There is no doubt in her mind that Callum is dead. He was fully, one hundred percent gone as they ran by him, escaping from that place of pain and death and disease. And yet, she doesn't remember falling asleep. (But do you ever when in dreams?) And he certainly seems real.
But he's also not there to torment her, or at least he doesn't seem to be. He's looking warm and friendly, which--let's be frank--he never really was. Hell, Kalen can be warm and friendly but what he's doing seems just...OFF. Playing to the camera? Really not his thing. And yet it doesn't feel like a dream or a vision, does it? What does a vision feel like? Do you know when you're in one that you are, or do you just think you're going insane?
Either way, she gives her answer: No. And when she says that, it's like she just punted a puppy for a field goal. The audience's cheering is cut off, with a couple audible gasps. Kalen nearly falls over and Callum is stunned into silence, his face going particularly pale against that red hair. For a moment, you can almost hear a pin drop.
"But...you have to," says the Hermetic. And the dead-but-not-dead scientist on the other side of her nods, agreeing. "He's right, Grace. You said you wanted to play. It's time to play."
The wheel sits in front of her, the pegs around the center jutting upward like sharp peaks in the mountain sky. Someone beyond the cameras, shadowed because of the lights shining on them, turns and walks out of the studio, the door swinging shut behind them/
Grace
She points at Callum, "Fuck you and your idiot fucking face," she says, because it feels good.
"No, I don't have to do anything," Grace replies to Kalen. "I choose what I do, you hear me?"
Jesus, it's like talking to the angel on one shoulder and the demon on the other -- with Grace stuck in the middle. Only instead of offering options, paths, there's only the one they want to funnel her to.
She looks down at the wheel, reading the 'prizes' on offer. The way this seems to be going, it's likely to read: "Death! More Death! Free Trip to Hell!"
Joshua
It does feel good, we're sure, to be able to tell Callum that. And there's a moment where he almost seems like he's about to smile, impressed by her, but it's overwhelmed by being surprised that he got told off. Just off to the side of the cameraman, she can see someone pushing what must be a censor button in conjunction with her profanity.
It's TV, after all.
"Do you?" asks Kalen, in response to her charge that she chooses what she does. "I mean, do you really? Do you make your choices or are they made by something else?"
The different strips of prizes aren't prizes after all; they're odd shapes, strangely asymmetrical. She can't make them out at first, because perhaps she's not familiar with the more obscure ones in front of her. As her eyes slip around, she realizes what they are. They're the countries of the world, each and every one.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Grace," says Pat Sajak. "It looks like you're playing global thermonuclear war after all."
And that's when Kalen smiles...a more genuine, Kalen-ish smile. "Looks like you chose well."
The door slams shut off in the distance, with a resounding boom.
Grace
The Wheel of Global Thermonuclear War, eh? Her confusion rises. Well that's not right. This can't be real, can it? It certainly feels real. She's forgotten how this was supposed to be a vision. Kalen tells her she chose well, and she gives him a crooked smile back.
Just then, the door slams, the sound of a bomb. But she didn't spin the wheel.
She tries to step off of the podium, but she's wired into some microphone apparatus, which she detaches from herself. But, before she leaves, she looks that guy next to the camera straight in the eye, puts that microphone to her lips with one hand, flips off the camera with the other, and says "Fuck. You. Censor this."
I mean, if you're going to rile somebody, censors are a fairly easy (and satisfying) target, aren't they? Telling you what you can and can't do and say, even if it hurts no one.
She drops the mic, because of course she does. And then, it's off to find those slammed doors.
Joshua
And just like that, when she flips off the camera the audience is cheering wildly again. She might as well have just won that new car that is surely sitting behind one of those moving wall dividers. Vanna applauds, Pat smiles brightly. Even Kalen and Callum are clapping for her.
But there's no time for that, because she is walking past the cameras and heading for the door. It's one of those large double firedoors, with thick grey metal frames and a push lever to open. Light is cracked from underneath the door, and a sign pasted on each door reads "EXIT," but someone has used a thick red permanent marker to put a question mark at the end of it. Maybe some disgruntled intern who was particularly pissy one night.
Grace
God, Callum smiling and clapping for her has got to be the creepiest damn thing she's seen... this month. If it wasn't for him, all the smiling, applauding people would be getting a more animated response from her, but all she really wants to do right now is try to mash his head into his mini-podium, to wipe that smile off his face.
Better to just walk away.
He's dead. Rotting. No more smiles for him, except for the skull's.
She stomps off toward the door, and looks up at the "EXIT?" sign, decides to open the door first and look outside before just blindly rushing through it. Where is she? She can't remember how she got here...
Joshua
The door swings easily, opening out into a remarkably plain hallway. The set she's walking from (and of course, the corresponding doors) seem to come right at the center, meaning that the grey-painted walls spread out in either direction. At her left after about forty or fifty feet, there is a set of doors, identical to the ones that she stepped out from, behind which sunlight can be seen.
At her right? The hallway goes down and then turns ninety degrees to the right. The sound of a ringing phone pierces the air from that direction.
Grace
Grace looks to the left and right, not remembering this place. There's a phone ringing somewhere to the right. Someone's calling. It's loud. Seems like it's for her, but how would it be?
She starts pacing off in that direction, trying to find the phone.
Joshua
The phone is ringing, so of course Grace goes off to find it. It's a natural reaction for her, after all, and why wouldn't it be. She follows it down the hallway, away from the exit and deeper into the bowels of the building. Someone is calling for her, and Grace is going to find out who.
As she turns around the corner, the hallway continues ahead it goes on for a while, the ring getting slowly louder and louder as she gets closer to it. The walls themselves are slowly shifting color, from that neutral gray to a deep, dark red. It's a gradual change; first it's merely a richer hue and then hints of the blush start to appear. Before Noel realizes it the walls are deep crimson. And the ringing is ever-present...louder, almost ear-splitting at this point.
As she comes up to a final turn down the corner, she sees a poster on the wall. It's a framed poster, the kind you might by in a mall print shop. It's a mystical-looking piece of art; Grace might not recognize it right away. The circular object painted in the center has eight spokes and at the South, East, North and West points are the letters R-O-T-A, with alchemical symbols inscribed as well. A Sphinx sits at the top of the object while clouds appear in four corners with winged and reading people and animals sitting on each cloud. On either side of the print are two items: a gleaming sword and a glittering shield.
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING. It's right past that turn. Has to be.
Joshua
[[And in case it wasn't clear: the sword and shield aren't part of the painting, they are an actual sword and shield mounted on the wall.]]
Joshua
[[Noel, Grace. Either one. Both. Y'know.]]
Grace
The walls turn slowly red, like a sunset bleeding into them, like a gradient. #777 - #A00. Like blood.
If dream this is, then it's only natural that the walls would turn to red. At least, it's natural to Grace anymore.
There appears before her a poster on the wall, with a wheel and a sphynx, clouds and letters and symbols of mystic significance, she's certain of that. And then, a sword and shield. Why these things would be in a television studio are beyond her, but reality has moved into that dream-like state where everything feels as normal and real as ever. Even when it isn't.
What are those symbols for? She's seen this somewhere, hasn't she?
[Int 4 + Occult 0, diff 6 = What is this poster eh?]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 5, 6, 8) ( success x 2 )
Grace
[3 more dice for Academics!]
Dice: 3 d10 TN8 (3, 3, 7) ( fail )
Joshua
Grace has maybe seen this picture somewhere before. It takes her quite a while to narrow it down, and that persistant ringing doesn't help. It's almost like it's calling for her...or perhaps warning her. It's hard to tell which of the two it is as it oscillates between high and low tones of the ring:
EEEEEEEEEEEEEE-oooooooooooo-EEEEEEEEEEEEEE-oooooooooooo
But then it comes to her. She's seen it in one of the many books that she's been scanning, one of those images that she has sloughed out. It's a Tarot card, one of the Major Arcana. And of course it is; it's the card popularly known as the Wheel of Fortune. Unfortunately, Grace has been scanning more than she's been reading, and the picture was just something to cull from the file at the time. She doesn't recall quite what it means within the tarot.
Grace
Ahh yes, the Wheel of Global Thermonuclear War. Wait... no...
Wheels. Wheels turn.
And then, she goes to free the sword and shield from the wall, if they will be. In quests, it's rarely wise to refuse a gift, isn't it? The noise sounds less like a phone ringing, more like an alarm now. Danger. Arm oneself accordingly.
Even though, you know, swords and shields aren't really her thing. Are they anybody's thing anymore, outside of actors and SCA enthusiasts? If the pieces will come off the wall, she'll arm herself with all the awkwardness of a gangly person who's completely untrained, and continue onward -- into the red.
Joshua
Wheels do indeed turn. Grace has perhaps been learning a little of that metaphysical concept, of fate and the circular nature of the universe. Perhaps she hasn't. Either way, she at least recognizes what the poster is and she takes the weapons. They come off with ease, fitting comfortably in her hands. The shield nestles against her arm; the sword shimmers a little as it rests in her hand, weighted as if it were just for her. And armed, she ventures further ahead.
It doesn't take long from here; the pay phone is just around the corner, up against the wall. It rings with that same tone...high-low-high-low. Awaiting her.
Grace
She walks over to the phone, puts the sword carefully on the floor, and picks up the receiver. She's going to be defended first, offensive second, apparently.
"Hey," she says, into it. Not 'hello' or 'yes?'
"You calling me?"
Joshua
The phone receiver is warm when she picks it up. It's not scalding or painful, but it feels like it might if it was out in the sun on a warm day for several hours. There's the click as the depressor comes up, the earpiece lifted out of it, and then she puts it to her ear and demands to know if she is the person sought by whoever is on the other end.
The response sounds like the hiss of a snake. It's a breathy, S sound, accompanied by the harsh sound of a growl. But it's all in one, like one mouth made that noise. One voice. It burrows its way into Grace's brain, sticks back in the amygdala where fear conditioning takes place. It's an ancient, primal sound, the kind that mankind has been genetically trained to be afraid of the way that some animals are trained to be guard animals, or killers.
"You tell me," comes the hissing sound. "Am I, Graccce?"
Grace
[WP! Fear is the mind-killer. I am not an animal, gom jabbar.]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (4, 6, 7, 7, 8, 8) ( success x 5 )
Grace
Fear. It's a straight shot from ear to hindbrain. Threatens to overwhelm the reasoning, but Grace is no stranger to fear. Every night she deals with Hydras. Has to wake up and keep on going.
"How adorable," she says to the entity on the other side of the phone, though her heart races automatically anyway. It's something to be pushed aside. "You going for your Lord Voldemort certification?"
Joshua
"You tell me," the voice repeats, this time in response to the wisecrack. Only it's not coming from the phone; it's coming from the hallway in front of her. And it has to be in front of her because--wait a minute, how is she at the end of a hallway? The maze has shifted on her and she is in a dead end.
It comes into view slowly. She sees one serpentine head, at the same level with her own head. It's smiling, or at least she imagines it is. Do snakes smile? The eyes are half-lidded, watching the Virtual Adept lazily. And then the other head comes into place. And then the other one. And the other one.
And they just. Keep. Coming. Eight hears, coiled out from one body that slips into view. Every night she deals with Hydras. Now, she faces another one. A very literal one.
Grace
"Ohhh, 'you tell me'. How many times do I have to kill you? I know if I lop off a head, two will grow back, that's how this works, isn't it? I know, I know, 'you tell me'," Grace says, holding the shield in front of her, just in case. The receiver gets dropped -- dangles there from its pay-phone cord.
She goes for the sword, not to slay the beast, just to have it in hand. More than ready to not use it, really. Also, more than ready to test the chopped-head theory.
"How about this? I'll tell you something, okay? I tell you to go away and leave me the hell alone."
Joshua
The sound that comes forth from the heads--ALL the heads--is a low, hissing, growling laugh. More of a chuckle, really...idly amused, the sound of a creature that is deeply confident of where it stands in the present circumstances. The first head she saw rears up, looks at her consideringly, then speaks. There's a familiar sibilance in that voice, the way it seems to capture multiple sounds at once. It's almost like the oscillation of the phone, the hum of her hard drive. The way the letters from Joshua flashed across the computer screen with both beeps and ticks.
Wait, she recognizes it. The tones. It's her fellow competitors on the game show she walked away from. Angel and devil, she said? They're embodied in one here.
"Poor, poor Grace," it says with that double voice. "Do you think that you can handle all of us? Are you really that good?"
Grace
Grace's mouth quirks up a wry, cruel smile.
Seems she doesn't have much of a choice, with all the gifts she's been given. Sword, shield, and a back to a wall. They are gifts to her. And the way out is through.
Talk-time is over. She's decided this thing needs to die, and she's not the kind to monologue to a dead thing about why it needs to.
But in her thoughts, she echos a hope that maybe, if she does manage to kill it, the hydra won't stalk her dreams anymore. Maybe this is the last time she'll have to face the damn thing.
Maybe this time, she won't be the one to die.
So she screams -- not in agony or fear, but in response. Yes, she really is that good. The sword, she swings at one of the heads, not to decapitate, but to split down the middle. Cutting off the heads makes them split into two, so maybe splitting them into two will have the opposite effect. Mathematical inverse logic as applied to mythos.
Joshua
[[Okay, so here's what we're gonna do for combat! First of all, CINEMATIC. No initiative because I say "no initiative." Your Melee attacks will be done via Intelligence + Enigmas, Dodge with same. You soak with Willpower + Arete. Damage on the sword is 6 + successes. So roll an attack!]]
Grace
[Int 4 + Enigmas 1 = RAAAAAH! I cleave your head!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 9, 9) ( success x 2 )
Grace
[6 + 1 Success = Damage!]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 3, 4, 7, 7, 10) ( success x 3 )
Joshua
[[Soak]]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 4, 5, 7, 8, 10) ( success x 3 )
Joshua
[[Bite #1]]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (3, 5, 7, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )
Joshua
[[Damage #1]]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 4, 8, 8, 8) ( success x 3 )
Joshua
[[Bite #2]]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 9, 10, 10) ( success x 3 )
Joshua
[[Damage #2]]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (4, 6, 6, 8, 9, 9) ( success x 5 )
Joshua
[[Bite #3]]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 4, 5, 7) ( success x 1 )
Joshua
[[Damage #3]]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (6, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 4 )
Grace
[Willpower 6 + Arete 1 = Soak#1]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 4, 8, 8, 8, 10) ( success x 4 )
Grace
[Willpower 6 + Arete 1 = Soak#2]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 8, 10) ( success x 2 )
Grace
[Willpower 6 + Arete 1 = Soak#3]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )
Joshua
Grace gives a scream--more of a primal battle cry than anything--and drives the sword directly down at the center of the creature's body. It's an unexpected attack on the monstrosity's part and the shining, razor-sharp blade slams down on the hide. It leaves a mark on the hardened skin, but not so much as to be damaging. But it's set the creature back on its heels, trying to reorient.
And it's no longer playing around, no longer taunting the Adept. Three heads, with baleful yellow eyes and fangs dripping saliva, wind in to strike. The first of those is deflected by Grace's shield, knocked aside on pure instinct. The other two find their mark and sink in, one into the shoulder and the other into her leg. But even these don't tear into her like they might, because Grace realizes after she moved to attack that the shield has covered her in armor that replicates the protective item's shining silvery color. The fangs pierce flesh and bring pain, but it's not nearly as bad as it could have been.
The creature rears up, preparing for another multi-faceted strike.
Grace
Now she definitely looks the part of a dragonslayer, doesn't she? All glinting and silvery. Looks are about as useful to her as shoes are to a printer, but you know... Go forth in style, eh?
Its fangs draw a hiss from her, but little else. She dissolves in her own blood too often to scream over something like that. At least this time, she's not helplessly waiting for death to come. It's a change of pace.
With the sword, she lunges to its heart, trying to keep her shield between herself and its heads.
[Splitting action: Attack and Dodge -- Attacking first at -2]
Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (2, 7, 8) ( success x 2 )
Grace
[Dodging at -3]
Dice: 2 d10 TN6 (3, 4) ( fail )
Grace
[Damage! 6+1 Success]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 3, 4, 7, 9, 9) ( success x 3 )
Joshua
[[Soak]]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 5, 6, 6, 7, 10) ( success x 4 )
Joshua
[[Bite #1]]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 6, 7, 8) ( success x 3 )
Joshua
[[Bite #2]]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 2, 10, 10) ( success x 2 )
Joshua
[[Bite #3]]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (3, 3, 4, 5, 5) ( fail )
Joshua
[[Damage #1]]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (5, 5, 6, 7, 7) ( success x 3 )
Joshua
[[Damage #2]]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 3, 9) ( success x 1 )
Grace
[Willpower 6 + Arete 1 = Soak#1]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 4, 7, 8, 8, 10) ( success x 4 )
Grace
[Willpower 6 + Arete 1 = Soak#2]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 5, 5, 6, 7, 9) ( success x 3 )
Grace
[+2 attack dice as per direction!]
Dice: 2 d10 TN6 (3, 9) ( success x 1 )
Grace
[Damage +1 die!]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (4) ( fail )
Joshua
They're in full-fledged, life-or-death combat here. One might even imagine you would hear the Mortal Kombat soundtrack playing over the whole thing...but no, nothing that gauche. This isn't a sequence of flippy kicks and blocks and techno music; this is a vicious, violent struggle to see who will prevail.
Grace's strike hits true, but the plating around the creature's ribcage doesn't quite give way. But they're at a stalemate because Grace has sent the creature into a defensive mode, meaning that one of the three attacks misses the mark completely and the other two are unable to pierce the shining armor. They remain locked against each other, Grace's blade against Hydra's many snarling heads.
Grace
Again, she goes for its heart, again she keeps that shield held to protect. Someday, surely, one of them will fall. And she's not going to let it be her.
Grace
[Splitting action: Attack and Dodge, attack first at -2!]
Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (5, 5, 10) ( success x 1 )
Grace
[Dodge at -3]
Dice: 2 d10 TN6 (8, 8) ( success x 2 )
Grace
[Damage! +6]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (3, 5, 6, 7, 7, 10) ( success x 4 )
Grace
[+2 Damage!]
Dice: 2 d10 TN6 (6, 8) ( success x 2 )
Joshua
[[Soak]]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 6, 6, 6, 8) ( success x 4 )
Joshua
[[Bite #1]]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 6, 7, 9, 9) ( success x 4 )
Joshua
[[Bite #2]]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (4, 5, 5, 9, 10) ( success x 2 )
Joshua
[[Bite #3]]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (3, 4, 5, 8, 10) ( success x 2 )
Joshua
[[Damage 1]]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7) ( success x 2 )
Joshua
[[Damage 2]]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 4, 5, 6) ( success x 1 )
Joshua
[[Damage 3]]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 8, 8, 9) ( success x 3 )
Grace
[Arete 1 + Willpower 6 = Soak #1]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8) ( success x 3 )
Grace
[Arete 1 + Willpower 6 = Soak #2]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 5, 5, 6, 7) ( success x 2 )
Grace
[Arete 1 + Willpower 6 = Soak #3]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 1, 2, 5, 8, 10) ( success x 2 )
Joshua
She devotes herself to a singular focus: strike the heart. And that seems to be the key. For even as the various heads strike at her, and one pierces painfully deep into her side, she ignores them. They're distractions, driving her away from the true target. And that target is right in front of her.
The blade strikes true. It pierces through the thick, leathered hide and the Hydra roars--all of its heads roar. They call out in agony, an ear-splitting shriek that assaults all of Grace's senses. She can feel hot blood from the creature come forth, dousing her as the pierced heart pumps as strongly as ever in those first moments of the wound. Grace hates blood; the sensation makes her sick. But this isn't her blood. This isn't Sid's, or Serafine's, or Lena's or even the memory of blood that she gets when Alyssa comes by. This is the blood of her nemesis, and as it flows over her it brings a Resonance not of coppery stickiness but of triumph.
Today, she has slain a Hydra. She pushed aside all the things that tried to distract her from her goal, the many flittering obstacles here and there that tried to draw her attention away. And she faced down this creature...and won.
This isn't being showered with gore, even if she might (or might not) feel revulsion and a turn of her stomach at the smell and the taste. This is being reborn through the eye of creation, of life and blood and pain and light. And in a single instant, so short that she might even wonder if she saw it, the Hydra flickers into a humanoid form. She's swear they were smiling.
And then, free and clear, she's back at her computer. There is no terminal window from Joshua; there is no Wheel of Fortune playing in the other room. There is no blood, though the energized feeling it gave still runs through her body. There is just her, and she feels that much closer along her path.
Grace
She blinks at the screen in front of her. Homework. Her breath still comes fast, and her heart is pounding in adrenaline rush -- not to mention the rush of victory.
There are occasions when homework inspires such, but not often, and not like this.
What the hell was that? Grace doesn't know this, doesn't understand visions or dreams (if dream that was) and yet the first flash of insight came in a vision -- that the world is not what it appears. It came in a humming buzz and different voices. And the way she feels right now, feels like it did back then. Like having touched the face of the universe and realizing it was herself she was reaching out to...
Victorious. Fulfilled. Alive.
Homework can wait.
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