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/tg/ - Traditional Games


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>> No.47600529 [View]

Myrra? I would think that that would heavily depend on where they would fight, how effective Doom's Guns are against the Units (eg Trolls, Paladins, the Summoned stuff), how Myrras magic would affect Doom etc.

All in all: Pretty even, with Myrra having slightly better chances if we have seen most of what she can do. If she had held back, than no BFG will help you.

>> No.43783687 [View]

A great shadow looms over you both, rising up behind the asteroid- the void shark, writhing in pain as a comparatively tiny human shatters its teeth one by one, Doomgirl howling about ripping and tearing in her bloodlust. At the same time, Tiff comes through for you /again/, an almost inaudible /zwip/ before a bullet punches into Myrra.

They're kind enough to give you these distractions. Of course you follow through, braids streaming behind you as you cut into her /again/- by all rights, she should be nothing but bloody ribbons, but Myrra is impossibly strong, and cutting through her is like trying to carve up a damned goblin made out of steel. Defensive spells? Arfoire's moxie? Or-

"Enough!" Myrra slurs, lurching back out of range and charging another spell- her outline starts to waver, like she's fading from this world. "I must... I must report this to Arfoire. CPU Purple Heart can't be allowed to interfere with our plans..."

The world seems to speed up again, and in your head, Neptune gasps like a beached whale, like she's trying to regain her breath.

You're suddenly very, very tired.

[ ] [TAKE DOWN] Draw on more of Neptune's power to close the distance and take down Myrra.
[ ] [FALL OVER] ... and get out of Tiff's line of fire. Let the sniper take one more shot.
[ ] [GUT PUNCH] Stagger over and give Myrra the gift that keeps on giving.
[ ] [QUESTION] Yell out to Myrra, the damn idiot. Seriously, why the hell is she taking orders from /Arfoire/?

>> No.43634852 [View]

Some minutes later, you land heavily on the floating island overlooking Tiff's asteroid, catching your balance as you adjust to the gravitational shift. You're... you're not getting GOOD at jumping around like the goddamned Plumber herself, but you're getting /used/ to it, and that makes a big difference out here.

... and of course, between hitting an inhumanly fast top speed and knowing how to launch herself like some sort of insane cannonball, Doomgirl had no trouble at all navigating these floating islands, so she's been waiting for you for about thirty seconds. She glances up at your approach, pointing down at the asteroid. "You sure our target's still here?"

She's not our /target/, she's- well, whatever. Yes, Tiff is still here, according to Therapist. You double-check just to make sure; it seems like she's gone to ground here, either because she's tired or because she's shaking off-

- a pursuer. Fucking hell.

You see the magic far before you see the adventurer- warp lightning arcs across the asteroid, carving shattered furrows across the rock's pitted surface, followed by the deafening WHUMP of a flamestrike strong enough to make the island /shift/ on its axis. Through the holes in the asteroid, you catch glimpses of an adventurer scrabbling to shift positions; as you watch, she pulls off an impossible midair turn and fires off a smoke-trailing rocket, which... misses its mark and sails off into the void.

"This game is /over/, you... you... contemptible little wretch!"

Welp. Now THAT'S a voice you haven't heard in a while, but there's no mistaking the note of smug superiority in her voice, even when it's buried under a mountain of aggrieved frustration. So you're absolutely not surprised when Myrra crests the far side of the asteroid, floating through the air while wreathed in enough magic to obliterate anything that catches her attention.


>> No.40463854 [View]

>93 - CRIT!
>85 - CRIT!

It's only as you charge forward that you get a good look at what you're up against: big, brutish humanoids so tall that they're forced to hunch down and come at you one at a time, looking like /heavily/ pixelated walls of solid green muscle plugging up the tunnel. Their horned helmets and steel shoulderpads scrape against the ceiling as they trundle forward, and they glare down their long noses at you, readying swords large enough to cleave you in twain-

Except Rokko's knocking them off their stride with drill bits that embed themselves in the trolls' barrel chests before detonating. Even as the first troll bellows in pain, its gaping bloody wounds start knitting themselves back together as they regenerate.

You almost start laughing on the spot. Whoever's controlling these fuckers knows /shit/ about fighting underground.

So you go in with a will, using the trolls' hunched-over postures against them- you slam your war hammer into the first one's head, and the injured part explodes into gore! Terrific, you roar, kicking hundreds of pounds of dead troll aside with a foot that weighs a fraction of that- then you smash through the next one that's stuck trying to squeeze past its ally's body, showering you in blood, and you get a vague sense that you've smashed ANOTHER troll's limbs, and then the fourth one goes down with a high-pitched shriek as you strike a gelding blow with your war hammer-

There's a lull in the action, and you come face to face with about twelve more war trolls, backed up by a VERY familiar Master of Magic.


Myrra's expression of shock and awe is absolutely priceless- she hisses at you, wide-eyed, and starts to conjure up some sort of spell. As you are now, though, you're way faster on the draw, thrusting one hand out and roaring a curse of your own.


>> No.36806032 [View]

What was once a pristine igloo is now burnt, charred, cratered, and absolutely covered with blood or black oil. The far wall is pockmarked, there’s some sort of death sludge melting away the ceiling, and you’re pretty sure that huge red smear across the floor is your blood, since it ends underneath you.

Honestly, you aren’t feeling much better than your fortress. Neither are your friends, from the look of things; Rokko, the Blue Bomber, is in two extremely messy pieces, although that doesn’t seem to worry her very much; she’s apparently some sort of robot, so it’s only ~temporarily~ fatal. Still not fun to look at, though; what with all the exposed wiring and leaking robot fluids, it’s all pretty fucking creepy given how Rokko looks like a living being.

Moru, monster hunter catgirl thing with a giant explosive gunlance, is curled up in the corner; she’s the least injured out of your little group, but the short girl looks like she’s seen some shit. No small wonder, since she was almost directly responsible for your (and Rokko’s) injuries, thanks to your opponent’s mind control fuckery. And speaking of which…

Myrra, erstwhile Master of Magic, is doing her best broken doll impression, since you’d masterfully pinned her down to take the brunt of the attack that appears to have shattered your spine (or your legs, or both). And by “masterfully pinned her down,” you mean “she grappled you and didn’t let go in time,” but you’re not telling that to anyone who asks. It fills you with a warm and fuzzy feeling to watch the unconscious bitch being dragged by the hair like a sack of potatoes, and the small, hunchbacked thing doing the dragging unceremoniously shoves Myrra into a pit-


>> No.36729516 [View]

>[X] [ATTACK!]
>17 (+2)!

You'd given Myrra time to make her little self-introduction. You'd given her time to build up a whole boatload of death magic (although to be fair, you had no fucking clue what cues to look for, and you still don't- she didn't exactly go "bibbity bobbity FUCK YOUR SHIT").

So the instant the dark-haired spellcaster snaps her hand up, you cross the distance and bash her across the face. It's a good solid hit, and it's absolutely satisfying to feel the jolt traveling up your arm and to see her head snap to the side.

It's... markedly less satisfying when the magic she'd been charging up is knocked out of her hand and turns an entire section of the ceiling into a rotting, pulpy mess of deathy snow. It's even LESS satisfying when Myrra simply turns back to stare at you with cold eyes; there's a dark bruise on her cheek, but not much else.

There's a moment of silence as you stare each other down, like you're both trying to predict who's going to go where; a part of your mind notices that the draconians outside are scrabbling at your snow fort's walls, attacking it like it's just another enemy. If they're counting on breaking their way through, they're going to be real fucking disappointed-

And then Myrra makes the first move. You hiss and duck as she whips out another roiling death-magic fireball (deathball?), and you hear Moru yelp as she scrambles out of the way. See, this shit right here is why you absolutely detest necromancers! Even when you've got 'em tangled up in melee, they've got nothing but creepy-ass shit up their sleeves!


>> No.36657329 [View]


Rokko's arm cannon shot, quicker than you could even blink, takes the spellcaster in the shoulder again. The spellcaster jerks back, but remains unfazed- oh fucking hell, that's undead blood! What happened to her blood? Her NORMAL blood!?

"Do you really think that's going to be a problem for me?" the spellcaster growls, finally showing emotion for the first time. There's the sound of pages flipping rapidly, and a small symbol eventually settles upon her forehead: a small purple stylized skull. "I have dominion over all spells, dwarf. I'm not just /any/ adventurer."

She clenches her fists- paler and more sickly than before, it's not your imagination- and the hairs on the back of your neck prickle, because you know damn well that this is death magic. The stuff from your fucking nightmares.

"My name is Myrra. The Master of Magic. And if you want to keep me imprisoned, you'll have to work for it."


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