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Short answer to questions before update is posted. I'd say for pain index, the RRH feels like being splashed with extremely-boiling hot water. It really loving hurts, despite leaving little physical damage. It does have combat use, generally causing a high degree of pain and a small amount of damage. It being divine means, in a case where matched against a similar power of magic or psychic nature, divine powers usually win out. Divine powers/prayers are more rare, and mechanically important is that they often don't require a roll. As for the Tyrant, the meta is it's integral to and a part of the story. In reality your subclass is your 'main class' choice. The sheet has been updated with the new ability.
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Dec 10, 2020 06:47
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| # ? Jun 6, 2024 00:12 |
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...it was too great a risk to lose the shroud by demanding it give up the secrets Red was hiding in the runes. Better to lean in close and simply listen to the patterns they spoke, and trying to reverse engineer that into something useful; like the prayer of dipping one's hand into the immense heat of divinity, seething with incandescent ichor.  That'd do. My feet hit the grassy ground of the southeast exit. I look back, and notice the shiny object has vanished. Smacking the tower that hard to spook Deimos managed to knock it into the river - just as well. I don't need to waste time. I march east, the river to my left and the north end of the Flowering Forest to my right. My path angles to follow the bend until I can make out the gradual change of the land, from the sullen grasses to the forest border of the swamp. The outer edges were healthy enough, cool pools of gray reflecting the stormy sky within clusters of dripping flora. A chilly humidity squats over the waters.  I pause to eat a small snack, and prepare for wading. I keep sword and gun out together and above the water as I work through the unreliable paths of the border. Nothing troubles me, but there's nothing left alive to do so. No birds, no rodents; not even a single bug. But I can smell the breeze. My nostrils sting from flesh-warm air. Under my feet, the mud has a ruddy shade. I press on and don't look down as it reaches my knees. I pull myself out by a tree in a cliff, scaling it to the top to see my next conquest.  OST: Softest Red Waters The humidity rises, along with the temperature. It's much worse in the detail of up-close. The water, the plants, the stones; it was all sickly with something pale red. Not a single chroma was spared the redtint, save bone-ivory moss and withered-gray wood. I prime my right hand, gun kept slung across my shoulder, left hand aiming my blade out. No life remained in the border of the swamp, having fled the oncome of pale red. But inside the land of that colour, there was something living. Something tiny and wormy that wriggled under the skin of the sopping red leaves. Something huge and yawning that was hidden under the deepest points of the unclean dark, expulsing gentle fountains of inhaled and exhaled waters. Something leggy long and toothy strong clenching centipede to sap-sucked trees. The flesh of the land was alive with lusting thieves. An open air market of naked nutrient excess. I felt the gravity inside of it again. I knew I had to follow it. I knew I had to prove my gravity was stronger. But first, I had to cross to the distant cliffs through wet hell. The Silver Mind... wouldn't have been enough to overcome this walk. I had to do this. I descend into that land, land, land alive.  Event Log posted:The bloody swamp crawls before you, all sickness barely hidden under the skin of the land. The first gauntlet is a long stretch of thin muddy land winding through the trees, most of them snapped apart from the weight of their watery long red leaves. They choke the path in curtains. I choose to... I lean back, and begin to hack my way through. (!Tyranny) 17 - [3]+[4]+[3] = 10 - Success. [-2 FP] [ HP: 15 / 20 ] [ FP: 12 / 14 ] Simple. Lean, stroke, shake the sword clean - the drenched leaves wrap around the concrete with love, forcing me to keep the edge bare as I work through. It takes time and effort, but I make it through with only a single lead getting a lick of me- it brushes past my face, thousands of tiny tiny curved bits pushing through the red skin to latch onto me with barbed force. I rip it off before it can get greedy, and crush it under foot before I continue. The paths lead to the center of the swamp, where, in order to follow the gravity, I have to make my way through muddy shallows to the red rocks beyond. Event Log posted:There's a large stretch where the land sinks into muddy bright shallows, meaning I have to cross it to reach the gravity's pull. I could effortlessly glide across the distance... but that much of an expenditure wasn't smart yet. I'd have to run through. I leap down into the mud, sinking to my waist, and begin an immediate power-wade to the other side. But then, not even five steps, and it was already happening. Something was moving through the mud, passing by my knees. Dozens of somethings. There, on the mudskin - surfacing pale as milk, spread wide with flesh flaps fluttering to propel them through the mire, and here they come, ready to chase me. (!Strength) 20 - [5]+[5]+[3] = 13 - Success. [-3 FP] [ HP: 15 / 20 ] [ FP: 9 / 14 ] Not strong enough. Not FAST enough. One of them leaps into the air, thin thin flesh rolling open to touch my skin, I swing my sword to ward it off but- OST: Meat Can Fold  (Softleech Latch-On) 10 - [1]+[2]+[1] = 4 - CRITICAL SUCCESS... My hand. It grasps tight to my left hand! I deathgrip my sword and smash my fist into the wound, but it's too late. I watch it quickly ring a hole into my wrist, and feel it begin its work- thousands of little little little teeth wriggle into the veins, and the thin thin thin flesh FOLDS, tucking down into my meat, burrowing into the skin, gently to lay claim to my biology but no no no NO NO NO NO NOT WITH THIS SECRET, NOT WITH THIS INTENT, NOT WITH MY RED. RIGHT. HAND. [-2 HP][-1 FP] [ HP: 14 / 20 ] [ FP: 8 / 14 ] I raise my right fist, clenched. I feel it- the heartbeat flow of the celestial blood, divine ichor soaking it with the gold vaporizing impermanence of isopropyl, but my target is there there right there as I jam my fingers into my wound and press hard against that thinnest flesh- (HT - Screaming) 14 - [3]+[4]+[1] = 8 - Success. I nearly collapse into the red muck, the sky ringing with my declaration of pain as I learn exactly what my hand is capable of. But the sheer force of my worldly lungs frightens away the other wriggling lurkers, as does the hiss of the ichor dissolving into the mud. A few seconds of biting my lip bloody steadies me back into a slogging run, as I yank the dead thinflesh from the scalded wound, and drag myself up onto land. Not enough. Not ENOUGH to deter me. But my hand was in moderate-bad shape.  [LEFT HAND CRIPPLED!] [-1 HP] [ HP: 13 / 20 ] [ FP: 8 / 14 ] I steady my breathing as I sit on the edge of the rocks, shivering and soggy. I stare at the mangled wound, still plucking out boiled strands of the thinflesh. I calm my biology. Focus. My mind is clearer, which means I AM capable of this. I can trick my biology with the language of magic into remembering the bubblegem sap. (Bubbleblood) 12 - [4]+[6]+[3] = 13 - Failure [By One]. ...but my biology refuses to believe the lie, with so much red surrounding me. I clench my teeth in anger, slamming my wounded fist into the rock, gnawing on the flesh, ripping out the last sickly strands of invasive pale stuck in the tendons. Useless. USELESS. TYRANNY: [ X ][ X ][ X ][ X ][50%] Whatever is here has heard me. I lost my element of surprise. My hand, my USELESS hand and USELESS magic betraying me. But I wasn't done, was I? Never. I stand back up, and let my blade drag through the ground as I march on. One last challenge to overcome. I know I've found the heart of the gravity when I find the settlement. Five or so little huts, which I only recognize by their shape - they're entirely draped in a strange substance that wasn't quite plant, and wasn't quite flesh. Stretched warm and tight, layering over every surface. Sopping soaking slickly wet. It striated the ground, crawled up the trees, floated in the soupy-red waters. I wrap my cloak around my face and head, letting its heat drape my shoulders. I stalk low to the bubbly-wet earth, forcing my ears to be alert as the Silver Mind remains deaf, dumb, and mute within me. There was a disturbance in the humid air. Vibrations. (!Midnight - Stealth) 15 - [2]+[3]+[3] = 8 - Success. [-1 HP] [ HP: 12 / 20 ] [ FP: 8 / 14 ] I let the shadows of the overcast day gather under me, blurring my profile and silencing my steps over the wet earth. I creep behind one of the draped huts without getting too close, and peek around the side. I clutch my blade harder at what I see. A voice speaks, soft and high of pitch, impatient and underlined with the wet tone of damaged lungs. "...carried it with you here when you left- you were warned the faerie was sick. If you don't know, then there's nothing left to be said. I'll euthanize the rest of them and whatever you left screaming out there, but you're going to be on your own." Its owner was someone I couldn't clearly see. They wore a floor-dusting ivory cloak, and the one arm they had pointed out in view looked as though it has no skin, and a hundred spiral-weave patterns of flowery white fangs pushing from the blood-bulged muscle. What the speaker was pointing towards was a much more concerning sight. They were speaking to what I was sure was one of those plant women. She was small and very old, overgrown with ashy-dark bark, a small witchy being of brilliant fiery leaves, glossy-volcanic in hue. But that old beauty was marred by her broken-open body, fused to the earth and the wet meatplant patches. She seemed only half aware, staring up with bobbing head and glazed eyes. She wasn't the only one suffering, however. There was a great hanging wreathe of what I could only call... fiery meat bulbs, stressed networks of swollen plant sacs bulged with a fire-colored sap, strung with meaty vines to the trees, and down into a network of hosts below. One looked like the remains of a giant snake-thing, filled with the vines and nests of the thinflesh creatures. Another was a giant of a humanoid-like turtlething, mindless and muscular, hunched into a fetal head-bowed sit with a hundred fleshvines supping from its veins. The last was another turtle-like creature, but long and thin and stretched, a skeletal sharpness of torn reddened skin that never stopped bleeding and feeding the soggy earth. I really didn't care for the sight of it. But the ivory-draped one worried me the most, with their gravity. I had found the heart of the sickness haunting my water, but there was no immediate best approach. I wouldn't be able to try the traitorous spell for a little longer yet, and there'd be no two-handing with my scalded vein-wound, but I was still walking. Something was about to happen, and I could either confront it, or remain hidden and wait for it to play out. 
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Dec 10, 2020 06:47
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PLAYER SUGGESTION My wrist doesn't slow me down enough to blunt my lethality. This is my chance to resolve what would steal sleep from us. I'll commit to this-
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Dec 10, 2020 06:48
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So that must be one of Burner's cult. That means both waiting AND murderous intent are right out, we want that dryad to live or at least pass away without the whole parasite infestation going on.
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Dec 10, 2020 07:00
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It's not clear to me whether we've barged into the middle of this zone due to the diegetic player of -ZEN- choosing to bring us here, or whether the Tyrant persona basically took over the past handful of decisions in a pseudo-cutscene, but either way our character seems like they're in a bit over their head. We should wait and see what's up before getting into more trouble.
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Dec 10, 2020 08:32
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uh, there's a nonzero chance that what we are seeing is a liason from Burner speaking to Bleeder itself we should probably watch a little more
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Dec 10, 2020 09:07
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Assuming that is Bleeder and a liaison from Burner, it sounds like Bleeder is planning to kill her retinue but leave the liaison herself. So we should be able to wait until Bleeder leaves and then help the liaison. If we can actually help her at all, anyway. At the very least we can probably kill her if that’s what she wants, and she can give us information.
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Dec 10, 2020 11:07
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Binged this thr ad in one night and it fantastic. Looking forward to participating.
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Dec 10, 2020 12:40
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I wonder if the weird flesh things here are the same or have a tie to whatever invaded the city at the start?
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Dec 10, 2020 12:45
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pumpinglemma posted:Assuming that is Bleeder and a liaison from Burner, it sounds like Bleeder is planning to kill her retinue but leave the liaison herself. So we should be able to wait until Bleeder leaves and then help the liaison. If we can actually help her at all, anyway. At the very least we can probably kill her if that’s what she wants, and she can give us information. Although ambitious as a goal, we have the Tyrant Manifest and I guess that's what you use in the Monoliths? If we're put into a position where we have to fight, we may have to risk it all on killing Bleeder. It may also be worth going all in with that on our own initiative depending on circumstances. Also on whether the Tyrant gives us any real choice. Even if we don't know it, on some level the Tyrant must know that we had made, ugh, friends with two of the lords. Granted, they aided us and fought as powerful allies, presented lavish gifts, and one petitioned us for a favor and even put her faith (yes! YES! The mighty and powerful must acknowledge our DIVINITY) in us. It's just... friends are equals. But perhaps it understands that we need time to see the foolish weakness of such ideas. They honor and respect our power and intent, and this is proper and good. (consider, though: one may think singularities have no friends. and yet, the great supermassives bind the very galaxies together) Hodgepodge fucked around with this message at 13:01 on Dec 10, 2020 |
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Dec 10, 2020 12:48
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Killing Bleeder is a no-go for now. Our main weapon is a sword, and guess what happens when her blood touches our bare skin? Never mind the open wound on our hand. I think our best shot at dealing with her eventually is to sneak up on her and then hate her to death with our terrifying mind sorcery - which is completely unavailable to us today.
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Dec 10, 2020 14:09
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I wonder if the Lords count as Mythos beings for the Tchoblade. We do also have a revolver, if we can get the drop on Bleeder, we may be able to get in a headshot (and then, hopefully, another 4 or 5 shots into the body, if not the head). I don't know if this is Bleeder herself, but there's no point in taking risks with her. As far as the person from Burner's cult, we didn't actually promise Red that we wouldn't let any harm come to her people, we promised Dancer that we wouldn't kill any of her followers. That being said, I'm all for trying to free the dryad, or letting her die while free from the plants (Though with the description saying that she's very old... maybe she willingly took them if it meant she could live longer?)
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Dec 10, 2020 16:44
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DECISION MADE Wait and see what goes down, and then act. - 16 Step into the open and make myself known. - 7 [Murderous Intent] Sneak attack, full force. - 2 LOADING...  ...LOADING
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Dec 10, 2020 19:43
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Thank you to everyone reading along so far, and new people reading.
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Dec 10, 2020 19:47
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No, thank you - this has been an absolute shitter of an academic term, and having this game to come back to has helped.
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Dec 10, 2020 19:54
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No problem, this thread rocks.
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Dec 11, 2020 01:32
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Yeah this thread is great so thank you Black August!
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Dec 11, 2020 04:23
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Black August posted:Thank you to everyone reading along so far, and new people reading. I'm enjoying the hell out of this, thank you for putting it together!
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Dec 11, 2020 06:35
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Stoner Sloth posted:Yeah this thread is great so thank you Black August!
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Dec 11, 2020 13:31
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Echoing the sentiment, this thread has been fantastic. Wish it was a real game, I’d be quicksave/loading all over the place just to see the different paths (and, let’s be real, save scumming like crazy for better outcomes).
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Dec 11, 2020 14:11
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Sure but the thread needs more owls, August. Everyone is fond of owls. 
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Dec 11, 2020 18:22
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Mukaikubo posted:Sure but the thread needs more owls, August.
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Dec 11, 2020 19:06
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Mukaikubo posted:Sure but the thread needs more owls, August. pumpinglemma posted:Except for mice and shrews. And Simon Cowells And you know why they come for you.
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Dec 12, 2020 02:27
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The air is so heavy - breathing soup. The wound- I need to wait a minute more. MAKE the spell work. Before infection set in. So I'll watch this play out instead, understand, measure and wait. Already they're acting; that figure, their gravity. The spiral teeth in that monstrous arm, they were flowering and ready to flense, little little needles grow so long. They lean over at the base of the greatest patch of the fiery sap orbs, and then just... sit down. Hand pressed to the trunk, their back to me. I bite my lip and know I need to take this time to mend. I risk the spell after a minute has passed, in which I observe the fire bulbs already starting to diminish and die off. I take the spell in my hand before it tries to do its infuriating dance of lifesparking coalescence. No. I feel it in my veins, and I grip it with crushing intent, furious with it. Bleeding it for all it was worth for having failed me before.  (Bubbleblood had BETTER WORK) 12 - [1]+[3]+[3] = 7 - Success. 1d+5 HP - [3] = +8 HP! -3 FP. [ HP: 20 / 20 ] [ FP: 5 / 14 ] I grind my teeth with eyes unblinking to look at my wrist wound. I've broken the spell, sent it slavish to where it would work. FIX IT. ALL OF IT. NOW. There it was again, just like when I scared off Deimos. The pleasant icyblood burn, as gemsap regrew tissue and cleaned out the trash that was stupid enough to invade my biology. I nearly tip over to lie down in the fleshy soil, head light and body thrilled with restoration. Exhausted energy... I have to focus. Up to kneeling, sword to lean on. What are they doing? The great fiery sap is all gone. Withered. The turtle giant and skeleton, hollowed. No more leech-nest snake. They must be nearly done. They must- "Momma Fireswamp, why are you healing someone?" They address the plant witch, who is still supported by a small bulb of the fiery sap, lying in weary repose. She doesn't respond. The drainer sighs and adjusts how they sit, staring up at the sky darkening with another westsent storm. Then they lean back, lying on the ground to look around upsidedown. I get a single second's sight before I pull back to hide. They had a young face marred by near-death pallor and tired red eyes, a fluft of ghostly hair out of their head. Lazy lazy unhappy eyes. The head was all they were allowed, the rest of their body subsumed in a titan-dense sculpture of lean wet muscle, latticed irregularly and with the lovely lacing lines of the little slivery needles nestled among the fibers. Their other arm was shaped strangely, more like a cannon of marrow and bone, flesh vents sighing with a netherous vapor.  I flex my healed hand to get it ready to work, warming it through the stiff raw pain of its regeneration. Breathe deep. They were looking for someone. They blamed the witch, but knew something else was around. Those thin nostils were flared- did they smell me?? They stand up clumsily from their lie-back scan, the draining over with. The shroud is shrugged back on while they go to squat by the plant witch, speaking with the impatience of someone who wasn't comfortable. "They're gone, Momma. Like you wanted. I don't know why you're casting sap spells, but it's over. You can keep the kid and be safe here. Ok? You're understanding me? I'm going back and I'm going to tell Momma Logon the same thing, again. I warned you, you didn't listen, THIS is how you end up. Your fault. So just... I did my best. So remember, if you see them, you TELL them I was looking for them."  They stand up and awkwardly stride away, the wounded witch saying nothing, seemingly asleep. They stop before I begin to scoot around the hut to avoid them, looking back confused. "Why are there living mushrooms, Momma? What is that blood?" They're breathing deeply. Their hooded eyes are sweeping the area as they turn and bend. It's too humid, and my collar is too tight. I need to avoid this. I have to hide. I'm too tired to move quickly. But if I burn blood, they might smell it. I have to try to outwit them. I have to outsmart them. I think with the clean weight of my crown, moving behind the shed. I think... "Sap, mushrooms, and- what IS that?? Hey! Who's out there? Come out!" There's a frustrated groan and feet that begin stomping with refreshed impatience. The sing-violin of a million needle teeth extended with anger. I scuttle with sword readied to the other side of the hut, and realize I'd have to make an immediate decision about what to do next.
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Dec 12, 2020 04:19
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The question mark on "Diplomacy?" really sold me on that being the best possible option at this time.
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Dec 12, 2020 04:25
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Agreed, the Tyrant needs to learn they can't solve every problem with violence.
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Dec 12, 2020 05:15
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Violence got us this far it'll get us out. Best to play to our strengths, you know?
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Dec 12, 2020 05:53
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This certainly seems like Bleeder, but the fact that they have what looks like a ranged weapon in addition to their draining needles is a bit of a wrinkle. We need to be very careful, however we do it.
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Dec 12, 2020 06:50
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StillFullyTerrible posted:This certainly seems like Bleeder, but the fact that they have what looks like a ranged weapon in addition to their draining needles is a bit of a wrinkle. We need to be very careful, however we do it. Them being aware that we're near, but not knowing precisely what we are could work in our favor if we Hide and Seek a bit longer. Keep the mystery going, let their anxiety grow.
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Dec 12, 2020 21:06
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I'm going to... Stand with sword ready to fight my way out. - 3 Burn enough blood to escape as far and fast as possible. [-HP] - 3 Risk playing hide and seek long enough for them to get bored and leave. - 5 ...diplomacy? - 29 ...I'm too tired to think straight. Talk it through? There was no talking my way through this. I needed to try to sneak or fight my way out, with all the strength I can bring to muster. I have blood to spare. I'd get out clean. Maybe I'd get in a kill. Maaaa҉á̕a̵̸a̧a̵̢̡a̛͡e͏̨e͟͏ęe̛ȩ͢ę͘è̷ your hair hung like a drape of comb red posted:
Don't- Don't say that. I can still remember what your voice sounded like posted:
I can't listen to you now. That isn't going to help me. That isn't how this ENDS. I'd give anything for one chance posted:
NO. Look. Watch this. This fragile royalist metal? I can bend this silver, I can MAKE it show me the coulds, the woulds, the shoulds. I can show you that you're wrong.  (The Silver Darkness) 13 - [3]+[5]+[4] = 12 - Success... Look. Look. You say __҉_ and that's just not true. See? Right there, in the tarnish- I try to hide, and I get the drop of them. I could let them go, but I could easily end them as a threat. See? There. Right there. That shine in the dark- it shows all the blood of my heart would be enough, and I'd be gone before they even knew, a terrible shadow. Get it? Even there, sword slung, by my heart is my gun, I could kill- I would lift you from the sea and back to me posted:
Stop or they're GOING TO FIND ME. Do you WANT to see what's going to happen if I try that?! Ok. Ok! Then watch.  I wrap my healing wound. I step out. Hands up. Sword buckled and gun hanging loose across my heart. No sudden motions. I say 'hey' to get their attention as they double back around the hut, and they startle badly when they finally see me. They step to brace against the hut, holding the cannon up with their other hand to aim it. "You're-" They don't know what to think, even after they look me over for a third or fourth time. I exhale. I try to not think about feathered arms, pulling me up from a fall. (Diplomacy) ? - [2]+[3]+[2] = 7 - Success...? They lower their cannon-arm. They peek from under the hood as I remain still and keep my eyes staring into the pale red of theirs. I tell them I'm a wanderer. The swamp came alive and chased me here. Just trying to get back out. Just trying to survive. You mean no h- "Stop, stop. I can't understand a word of what you're saying. Do YOU understand ME?" They gesture impatiently and with hostility. I stop talking, tired and angry, biting my lip bloody while I stare at my strange-suited interrogator. I nod yes. I do understand. That it's intolerably humid. It smells awful. It's too hot. There's a chair with a feather in it. It's telling me to not pull my gun. It's promising me __҉_. They're closer to me now, and my hands are still up. They're still holding their arm for a lazy aim- be simple to overtake them, easy easy. Sword down, easy easy. Gun up, easy easy. I could. I should. I would. But you're telling me no. You're going to see why you're wrong. "You do? Ok... then." They lower the cannon. They size me up yet again, still not sure what to make of me. There's no smile or kindness, but they have relaxed. They extend a hand, warily. "Whatever you are, this is a bad place for you to be. Come on." I'm looking at them, and I'm looking at you. Unblinking. Jaw tense. Glaring- because I know you're wrong. This is how. This is why. It's as simple to prove as taking the bait. Plain as me putting out my hand, and I don't look away, expression unchanged, as our fingers meet and the needles extend, slivering, stabbed into my veins as wormy teeth chew through meat- see? SEE? [-11 HP] TYRANNY: [ X ][ X ][ X ][ X ][ X ][ X ][70%] I. TOLD. YOU. I grab their shoulder with my other hand- the needles reach out from between the red folds, and snake their way under my fingers and through to my veins. I told you. I'm clinging on, teeth bared, I haven't blinked once and the sweat is turning my eyes bloodshot. I TOLD you, and they don't know what to think because they thought it'd be easy to trick me and swallow up my flesh but now I'm looking at them with such ANGER but it's you I'm angry with, you I have to prove wrong, you who wants to tell lies that make no sense and do you see how stupid 'diplomacy' is do you understand this will cost me my LIFE, JUST LIKE IT COST YOU YOURS, LEAVING ME ALONE OUT HERE AND THERE IS NO HELP COMING-  please, please prove me wrong posted:
I'm on the ground, forcing my lungs to inhale. My arms are on fire, as blood weeps from a hundred tiny pin pricks. My heart is racing, having nearly been wrapped in a vice of draining long teeth. My hand- my hand. My hand. My hand. My hand. My hand. My hand. My hand. Pale, boney, shaking, bleeding... my hand makes a shape I can't understand. Shouting? My interrogator, my assailant, collapsed against one of the huts, a hand shielding their eyes. Why am I not reaching for my gun? I would, but my hand is making the strangest shape. I couldn't hold a weapon if I wanted. It makes no sense. The blood eater- look at their suit. It was misbehaving, the red flesh crawling around in long strips, the teeth gnashing in undulation. What is that fluid they're rejecting? It was speckled, flashing like fool's gold under the stormlight. Squirted from the needling teeth, vented wet from between the fibers. They don't understand. I don't understand. I should be dead. They should be laughing. But they're scrambling to their feet, where are they going? Still on my knees... why am I so content to drop my guard? There they go. Cannon aimed at me, but not really- they can't bear to look directly at me. They can't bear to see it, as they shout threats and the promise of retribution. They're scared... running scared. Why don't I shoot them in the back? It'd be so easy. So so easy. But I don't. I don't do anything but sink into the meaty dead soil, and watch them vanish into the pale. My hand... it was wrong. It was incomplete. I hadn't MEANT it. I stand up when I hear Momma Fireswamp move. Too much blood gone, too tired. My hand buzzes as though it were a great metal bell that had just been rung with peak force. I'm losing myself, but I was still here just long enough to see this through. I stumble, feet dragging over the bloody mud, taking myself to the center of the settlement. A great circle of death has blossomed from where the drainer emptied the cursed land, leaving nothing but gray soil and desiccated fleshstuff. All that remained alive was the broken-apart plant witch, and her cradled little bulb of fiery sap. I stare at her for a while before I realize there's flowers blossoming from her eviscerated torso. Tiny fiery things, spewing pollen and curling into shapes. The mushrooms of my brain, forced into silence by my demand, disobey and get around my exhausted mandate to interpret. She was speaking with me. Through scents, the curl of the blossoms, the whispers of tainted soil to fungal colony...  (Surprised by me. Unable to explain me. Not truly mushroom. Not like the Lordly one. Poor thing. Lost thing.) I reject her pity. (Amused by me. Saddened by me. Sad for themselves. Sad for who they lost.) I demand to know what she can tell me about her cult. (Amused by me. Belongs to no cult. Was here before they arrived. Then came the Lords, their faithful. Cursed and chased, poisoned and profaned.) Not with the cults? Then how was I supposed to stop the red in the water? What's feeding the infection? (Saddened by me. Is helpless before me. Won't try to lie to me.) Her eyes open, as she looks at the ruin of my expression. My hand is heavy with the weight of concrete.
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Dec 14, 2020 06:18
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PLAYER DECISION I can't think. I can't. Too many thoughts in my head and they're all obscured by white feathers. I have to do something. I can't think about what just happened. I have to decide. I have to.
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Dec 14, 2020 06:21
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From what I see, it would be a mercy to put an end to this. A kindness, even. But perhaps, yes, perhaps there is the hope of something else that could be done? A cruel hope, that. A cleaner conscience if found justified, to be certain, but until then...
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Dec 14, 2020 06:56
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is __҉_ the Elder Sign? anyhow i voted walk away but i'm way too nice
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Dec 14, 2020 06:57
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I'm not convinced we ever get another chance to come back here or find an option C. It's not in our power to fix this, but it is in our power to end it. Also I'm getting a little fed up with the Tyrant being such a petulant child, Hunter was spot on in that assessment.
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Dec 14, 2020 07:08
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King of Bleh posted:I'm not convinced we ever get another chance to come back here or find an option C. It's not in our power to fix this, but it is in our power to end it. i am wondering if my impulse to walk away was kindness, or just being unwilling to take responsibility for ending their pain the tyrant might mature as we put points into it, but i am not looking forward to the teenage years 1-2 levels in
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Dec 14, 2020 07:13
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King of Bleh posted:I'm not convinced we ever get another chance to come back here or find an option C. It's not in our power to fix this, but it is in our power to end it. Option C...Ctrl+F8? (Tell me if it’s too meta-gamey to push for a tie, but I’d be really curious about a third option here, and the votes are pretty neck and neck currently) Both options seem sort of defeated? Leaving her may make the tyrant “grow up”, but it also might not since all this trip did was cause us pain. Slaying her may be a mercy, but it might also be playing into the game’s normal narrative defeat all lords) and we are specifically on a very abnormal run. I don’t care if the tyrant is tired, I want him to learn something from this. No running away. No violence to solve the problem.
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Dec 14, 2020 14:59
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Random_Username posted:Option C...Ctrl+F8? 
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Dec 14, 2020 15:48
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Good to know our blood isn't very tasty to Bleeder. Might help next time, provided that wasn't a one off.
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Dec 14, 2020 15:55
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So... more flashbacks with, I'm assuming, the 8th Lord, who we have not only not met, but as far as we know, isn't even a player on the board. And who's aspect has something to do with the sun. And that the Bleeder cult is some sort of offshoot of Vampires seeing as how they REALLY didn't like it when we made the sigil with our hand that was taught to us by a figure who may or may not actually exist in the game. Neat. Edit: Actually, if the 8th Lord/whoever it was that gave us the glitch move is somehow related to the Sun, would that make his ability the opposite of the Tyrant, or another aspect of it (the brighter the light, the darker the shadow and all of that)? Randalor fucked around with this message at 16:04 on Dec 14, 2020 |
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Dec 14, 2020 16:01
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| # ? Jun 6, 2024 00:12 |
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There is a unique argument for it to not have been bleeder (and just being a high-level bleeder cultist) and that's the fact that we don't have the "1 chance missed" text for him...as of yet.
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Dec 14, 2020 16:36
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