One turn of stop, drop and roll if enough. You also don't need to roll for breathing since by being on the ground you are below the smoke.
This is for adding a Search Category to the thread.
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One turn of stop, drop and roll if enough. You also don't need to roll for breathing since by being on the ground you are below the smoke.
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Presence
Summer Mantle
Strength
Status, Contacts
LanguagesBreath, failure
Now it's Worm's turn to cough. And cough he does. A loud, hacking explosion.
He doubles over, tries to catch his breath.
Looks up at the woman helping him with the owner and gestures, as best he can, for her to try again to lift him, drag him.
While she attempts to move the man toward the window, the Goblin tries to catch his breath.
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Tendrils of fire fire, smoke, and ink wrap around the lantern bearer from the ground and the table behind him. But he just kept laughing.
Giddy... satisfied... relieved. He'd set Paradise aflame. He would make sure it burned to the ground. And so he laughs as his clothes burn away and the black blisters of his hand spreads across more of his body. He wouldn't abandon his post. Guarding the world against the the tendrils of the book, Fairie itself in his mind, even as they consumed his flesh.
Lantern bearer takes four lethal as the floor catches fire and becomes part of the store's inferno scale fire.
Failure on Stam+Res rolls on the smoke (if standing) now incurs 1 bashing as well.
John 16 – Owner 10 – Dreadlocks 9 – Gerrit 8 - Worm 7 – Lantern Bearer 7
John is up
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New Identity
Rigid Mask
Trained Observer
Composure
Perfect Stillness
Ink not shadows, ink not shadows, not right, not your domain. The last words came in like sharp bolts down his spine. For once he wasn't certain if it was in his head or if her message came through the shafts of light that cut through the din of the smoke. The pull of the window kept the smoke thin even as his papery lungs hacked and struggled. He crouched down, eyes wide darting around at every wisp of that thick ink that drifted into the air, then slid along the ground snaking around the man and feeding him his own self-righteous flames. He let out a soft gasp, looking back at Gerrit fear in his eyes. "We gotta go!" That primary need for survival pushed at John. Worm, where was Worm did he escape. Could he hear John over the flames. His heart racing in his chest as he held out a hand for Gerrit to begin moving to the window.
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With a burst of strength that seemed to surprise even her, the woman in the sooty pencil skirt yanks the owner, dragging him along the ground despite his struggles and cries. Despite smoke inhalation and fear (or maybe because of it), she practically throws him through the broken window on the sidewalk outside.
She looks back, trying to make out John and Worm through the smoke but she dares not go back deeper into the store and the realm of Paradise engulfing it
“Come on!” she shouts before she climbs out into the street beyond.
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New IdentityGet up. Get up, GET UP YOU STUPID SHITHEAD!
No, that's what he wanted. He wanted to make Gerrit pass out from inhaling too much smoke so he could take him. Gerrit wasn't stupid, despite the numerous occasions where he heard differently when he grew up. When John offered him his hand the Ogre followed his first instinct to inch away, to press the still hot piece of molten polyester that was his backpack close to his chest. If one of the people here took the book he wouldn't have anything to show, he would have been useless. But John didn't want to take the backpack away, he wanted to help.
You gotta go!"We gotta go!"
That friend of yours? Isn't he made of smoke and ink himself?
"Shut up!" He started to get angry. Why couldn't he just leave him alone? To prove him wrong Gerrit forced himself to take the hand, to follow his friend out of here. The shop by now looked more and more similar to his Keeper's dungeon, like the hellish halls where there were no explanations, only pain. Gerrit kept his head low - partly because he wanted to keep breathing, partly because he expected to run into ghosts of the past any second - and followed the Darkling to the outside.
Equipment: Wallet with some money, backpack - Copy of The Paradise of Shelesh (burned?).
Hardened Mask
Colonel Worm is up.
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Presence
Summer Mantle
Strength
Status, Contacts
Languages
Two things happen at once: 1) The burning in his lungs lets up. 2) Pencil Skirt manages to wrangle the owner up and out the window.
Worm's right behind them, climbing out into the (relatively) fresh air, where he coughs, hacks, and generally clears his soot-blackened lungs.
The world tilts horribly on its axis for a moment, a result of his smoke inhalation and his shattered mental state.
Gotta keep moving. Gotta get away.
The Goblin scoops up the store owner with little difficulty, both steadying him and bracing him with Wyrd-enhanced strength. He's got an arm wrapped around the guy, keeping him upright and contained, Weekend at Bernie's style.
Blinks his watering eyes at the woman. "Tha...thanks," he sputters, "for the help." Glances around for John and Gerrit, "But I think I need to get this guy to the hospital." Says it a little too loud, hoping his fellow Lost get the hint.
Once they're on board, it's off to his truck. To find a private place for a little...chat.
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The Lantern Bearer falls to the ground.
Into the flames of Paradise.
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New Identity
Rigid Mask
Trained Observer
Composure
Perfect Stillness
It was getting worse, all around him it was getting worse. Was it dying or was it using the priest as a conduit, he couldn't tell. All he could see was whispy tendrils of thick powdered ink thrash about, some alight on the ends as the flames jumped and danced. A blast of furnace hot air to the face snapped his attention back quickly.
He could feel his friends pain and he knew, he knew he could relieve it with a thought. But he'd tempted fate one time too many already. He couldn't risk failing and becoming a burden himself. Unable to help the flinch as Gerrit yelled, it was an impulse he couldn't control. He squeezed his friends hand for comfort and pushed forward, jaw clenched as he knew they had to escape or be taken to Paradise one way or another.
His lungs wheezed and whined as they were flooded with smoke even getting lower didn't seem to help the smoker. But he struggled, held on and managed to push through the pain in his chest and keep moving through the opening. He frowned and focused on the exit his lungs desperately screaming for air.
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The Owner struggles ineffectually, more against their robe than anything else in their blindness.
The dark haired woman steps away from her, coughing and breathless as she looks back through the broken window, seeing John emerge through the inky smoke. Knowing there are more people still inside. The Lantern Bearer, and the Fire Lighter.
However, she dared not go back inside. None knew what she saw but it was enough to convince her that she had done enough and not risk reentry.
She reached for a phone in a bag she must have dropped somewhere along the way as her hand passed through air. Looking around she spots other people, standing senseless, looking at the burning building.
"Call 911!" she shouts.
No one moves for a several long seconds. Then something lifts.
The ink fades from the crowd's eyes. Suddenly it's not a portal to Fairie. Suddenly it's just a fire. The madness retreats and The Paradise of Shelesh is a book again.
A man takes out his phone and calls the fire department. The screaming fades from the distance. And the owner's sight begins to return.
The Changelings are left to wonder how much of what they'd seen was madness of the crowds, how much was real, and how much they could trust their own senses and recollection of events.
Everyone is out of the book shop and the scene ends. This wraps the first scene.
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