<BB> temawimag's Board <<Lour Walkman>>

Since a lot of the battleboards seem to be told from a roleplay narrative, and I'm not too crazy about that type of thing, I'm going to write responses from the perspective of an outsider. I'm hoping to use this board mainly to explore design space for chaos cards or spells with other strange effects, so this will be justified as Lour appearing seemingly thoughtless at times. Plus, it'll be funner to write this way!




From the journal of Florian, Lambholt trapper.

"More than the werewolves have been howling at night recently. A few of the residents on the outskirts of Gatstaf have been reporting sightings of a strange, slim man walking around the edge of the village, tapping and waving his hand to the whim of some cursed metal earplates around his neck. They say he walks and hums as if he's in a trance, but Dagmar claims to have seen the man stop his bewitchment to hold a cohesive conversation. At least, as cohesive as a mentally shattered invader can get when talking about strange worlds in a darkness from beyond the sky. I'd write him off as a loon myself, if not for the invasion of those... things that monster Emrakul (or so the cultists called it) still being fresh in my mind. Suppose he was from beyond the moon - that would help to explain his odd garbs, his earplates, and the strange metal gauntlet he wears. When Magda of the Behrendt residence offered to bed him, he seemed to have taken a flannel shirt from her, and a bottle of her favorite perfume. I'll be certain to ask her later if there's anything otherworldly about his anatomy which she might have noticed.

For the last month or so, this strange man has been walking into seemingly random homes, letting a trail of delinquents follow in his wake. Yet, werewolves, ghouls, and all foul beasts of the night appear to keep a distance from the residence he enters. In trade for a night's safety, the house erupts in a loud boom of music. Not quite the lovely strings and wings I'm used to hearing the children practice, but something more... sinister. Something that causes a repeated thumping like a chorus of trained behemoths, and sounds and melodies impossible to replicate with any instrument I've ever known, with lights of all colors beaming out of the windows. The next morning, the host wakes up an intoxicated, tired, and exhausted mess. The man, and his delinquent followers, have long since left by the time the host wakes up.

Normally, I'd write off this as something for the local militia or whomever to deal with, but the sporadic nature of where this otherworldly ward he brings will spawn next has forced me to put my traps deeper into the forest. My options are apparent - either trail this man and study his movements like an animal, or unnecessarily risk my life for no real gain.

I pass the time writing this entry as I wait for his arrival. He travels this woodland path daily, so I've had plenty of time to plan my vantage point. I can already hear him walking, steady footsteps with more musical humming to accompany it. I draw this entry to a close, as he approaches my location, ready to update this journal with my next observation of his movements.

-Florian Drossel, Lambholt trapper"