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Huh, our cool deformed skull crown has something to do with protomatter it seems. Neat.
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Jan 26, 2021 05:53
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What's interesting about that is that the explanation for the scar is enough to make Alyssa -- who isn't squeamish, and for whom we've just done some huge favors -- try to kill us immediately once she knows it. I know we already have plenty of evidence that something about us is fundamentally Wrong, but, uh, here's another bullet point.
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Jan 26, 2021 06:40
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Seems a bit like she mainly wants to harvest our protomatter crown to rebuild her body, but there must be something else to it as well. The blue book has her ALWAYS betraying us, presumably even if we had given her the "protomatter musculature" from the machine.
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Jan 26, 2021 07:12
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Maybe she has a deal with something like we've got one going on with she-who-shall-not-be-named?
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Jan 26, 2021 07:19
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She's a mad scientist brain in a jar, dissecting us is par for the course. Not entirely sure how we're going to leave though, as the glitch means that pretty much every tile in the tower has a chance of us dying unless we keep hitting stealth checks. And using the behind to transport is risky.
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Jan 26, 2021 11:45
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Going back to the first post, it says:quote:You watched as she ran up the mountain path. You were the last thing between her and the singing nightmare bearing down on you. Your ageless body screams with pain, as you raise your arm to take a final strike. I mentioned earlier that I believe our protagonist is actually two people, the tyrant and (for lack of a better name) the singer. That mention of a body being "ageless" would imply that that fusion was actually a physical one, with the most obvious physical sign being the crown. And to a lesser extent, the sword. Both of them seem made out of protomatter since they're both black and more or less unbreakable (the sword explicitly can't be broken, one of the passive benefits of the crown makes the protagonist reduce all damage done to the head to 1HP). So it seems the original body of the tyrant might have been entirely made of protomatter. Which would also explain why the name of the Einherjar that represented him was Proto, now that I think of it. Incidentally this might explain as well why when the tyrant is in control, the sword is used more often, while when the other personality is in control, they tend to rely more on the gun (especially when anxious). It might be that the gun was the original weapon of the singer while the sword was the original weapon of the tyrant. Another thing to mention is that this was written in the quotes in the post with the starmetal system fight: quote:Once Upon A Time So it looks like there might be multiple holy ends...? And multiple lost ends. For whatever that might be worth. And lastly, about the people present in the conversation with Alyssa: quote:ALYSSA is here. We know who Alyssa, Nyx, Charon, Aitvaras (harpy boy) and Lasers (the chicken) are. But the other four, I have no idea. About Wash, it says: quote:But if I don't leave now she'll find a reason to scoop me, then Wash will have never be, then what will my third eye see? So it seems Wash might be, uh, born in the future? and then went back to the past? And if we get our protomatter scooped out (and presumably die) he'll never have existed? Or something. Maybe Wash is actually our Holy End counterpart, who knows. I'd assume our "third eye" is what we're using to see the flashbacks when we "look to heaven". Maybe we're seeing through the eyes of Wash? No idea about the holiest knight either. There was a small mention of them earlier in the thread and that's it to my knowledge. The emperor of hell might be the glitched out monstrosity that was following us earlier. And the emperor of heaven was actually mentioned in the Camp quest. She was described as having one crippled arm, and being "a wolf". Closest thing I can think of is maybe Merkja? Since she has an iron arm, is a Hyena, and is described as a Saint. But that's a hell of a stretch, I'll admit. Especially since Mom was also described as having an iron hand (which might be figurative, or might not be). Man, I have no idea. Pretty cool thread so far though. Grond fucked around with this message at 23:57 on Jan 26, 2021 |
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Jan 26, 2021 18:17
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VOTING CLOSED - Dreaming Of... The Witch - 14 The Squire - 8 The Archer - 8th LOADING...  ...LOADING
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Jan 26, 2021 18:33
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I think it is pretty clear that we are the Emperor of Heaven/Hell. If you ignore the temporal angles in the same way that the other names do.
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Jan 26, 2021 21:07
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I think us being the Emperor of Heaven is impossible, since there was a flashback about us having a duel with her at the end of the hangman game in camp (page 9 of the thread). Us being the Holiest knight I think is also impossible, since there was another flashback just before the standoff between Merkja and Deimos (page 17), when we and Aitvaras presented a document to the Squire to get him to join the Holy Chicken Knights. It included the signatures of all the members of something named "the Council" and one of the members was "the Holiest Knight in the world". But it's possible we might be the Emperor of Hell. (Also going back to check all this stuff... The contrast between the more typical high fantasy setting of the Holy End and... uh... whatever the Dark End might be described as, is pretty jarring. It's as if Sam got killed in the first 5 minutes of the movie and the rest of it is all Mordor except occasionally Frodo goes on a wild mushroom trip and hallucinates what life would have been like in a better world while everything around him is glitching the gently caress out for some reason. So, a typical saturday night I guess). Grond fucked around with this message at 00:25 on Jan 27, 2021 |
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Jan 26, 2021 22:30
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Black August posted:VOTING CLOSED - Dreaming Of... quote:The Archer - 8th
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Jan 26, 2021 22:55
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Good spot on the Emperor/Knight. Presumably that was all Holy End bleed in the list of NPCs then. It does feel like Holy End is a regular high fantasy roguelike/RPG and this is the result of someone shoving the code through a blender. p.s. reading the thread again at night alone is genuinely unsettling. At least, the recent stuff with the glitch mob is. Expecting good dreams! Razakai fucked around with this message at 00:10 on Jan 27, 2021 |
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Jan 27, 2021 00:06
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Holy end has the camp being normal, so no it wasn't your usual high fantasy. It did have elements of it, but, well.
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Jan 27, 2021 01:21
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For my two bits, I think [Holy End] might've been fairly similar to this one, up to the point the various apocalypses/catastrophes/etc that went down to make the current state of the world the way it is. Whether they didn't happen at all in [Holy End] or were averted, dunno.
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Jan 27, 2021 01:56
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The rain is coming down steady. You stretch your legs, staring at the roof of the car. Blanket pulled up high, pillow still cool. She turns off onto the highway, and you watch the colorful glows fade from the wet windows, replaced by the heartbeat of passing yellow streetlights. "It's a long ways, and I want to get us ahead of the storm. You can sleep." The Witch adjusts the radio, so it only plays soft static that carries under the highway sound and the drive of the rain. "It's getting harder to walk your dreams. Every time I try, it takes a little longer, little further. Scared I might end up in this one for a year if the math keeps adding up." She adjusts the mirror. Sunglasses, even at midnight. There's a banging noise from the trunk and you ask if he's ok. "Who, Frankie? That's just his memory making noise. Don't worry about it. Hell, if anything, this is a good chance to give you some subliminal knowledge. Frankie and me is why you stay AWAY from soul magics. Even if you're- ESPECIALLY if you're born with it. Just trouble, nonsense, and a load of bullshit." You smile. You know she's being serious, and you take it so, but she has a great way of explaining horrible stuff to you without it scaring you. The city fades out behind the horizon, as the million miles of black highway stretch on into the night.  "You know, another thing that's become real hard of late is to do any sort of prophetic dreaming. Keeps coming up vague, or plain wrong. Not sure what to make of that. I'm not too bothered - never did like prophecies. Even when I was Nightmares. They're the domain of Fate, and they always bring something hateful. Always damnation with faint praise. Ahhh, poo poo." You can tell she's smiling. "Don't listen to me when I talk about this stuff. I'll stop us off for some burgers when I pass by a place. Don't worry! Nothing with chicken. Only COW sinners on this ride." She's quiet for a while, deep in thought- Frankie murmurs along with her thinking in the trunk. You know she has a lot more anxiety than she lets on, and that's one way she's a lot like you. But one of her holy practices was to try to be honest about it, even if it took time to find the right language. From where you lie down, you can see other car lights rush by, illuminating the drizzle. "Look. This is more intense for me than I let your Ma know. I mean yes, I do want this, I'm overjoyed you want me for this, that she trusts me with this. I'm just... tripping over old wires still set from the last time. I know it isn't like last time. I'm not a divinity anymore for one, just plain stinking flesh. Still has me by the nerves." The rain picks up. She peeks out the window, frowning at how quickly the sky has gone storm. She speeds up, the highway rougher with her tension. "I'm gonna do right by you. That's what I want to implant, to articulate. Getting to be Mom #2... makes me a lot happier than being on the Council and pretending I give two twists about the minutiae of the colony. I can't be responsible for the safety of everyone going out to Megalith. The Doc is going to do way better than me making those decisions. But you? I can give you my all. I can fix lunch, write my bullshit philosophies, play guitar, do gardening, heckle your birdturd of a boyfriend..." She knows that'll get me to sit up and object, but she's already smiling like a goof in the mirror. You know she likes him a lot, but as she told you, 'oldest habits die hardest' and like Hell was she going to pass up giving the chicken a hard time. But what made you like her so much was how she knew exactly when to back off. She knew what he had been through, knew some of what you had been through, and so there was an understanding between villains. "...Jesus. There's so many people on the side of the road. I don't get why I can't swing out of the storm, it shouldn't be this big or have this much pull- oh! Yes, finally. Pit stop. Gotta keep that freak physique of yours healthy. 'Much Convenience & Decadence'? Huh. They got a drive-through. Oh wow. With drive-through liquor. I swear the second I gave up drinking, every fiend stepped out of the shadows to start showing me the good stuff." The car turns in, harsh white light illuminating the inside. You tuck down and hide under the blankets, to remain unseen by anything else passing by. "Yeah lemme get a, uh, a uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, uuuhhhh two, no, two number twos, with two extra patties. On each. Yeah. Like I said, two. Yes. Extra toys. No I... no I don't want a double-shot. Yeah. Yeah. Alright." The car moves. No line it seems. Just a wait at the window, the smells of something frying almost enough to make you break cover. "God. What a wild time. I still don't know how to talk with anyone about everything gone tropic. Or what the living Hell the water is doing, holy as it is. I KNOW it wasn't like this, but my memory lines up fine with everything I check, with the one anomaly being y- oh hey! Hey, thanks." The sound of bags! Chicken Sin was a no, but you're damned if you don't want the beef. You pop out of your blanket once the car pulls up a little. The Witch was smiling. She was so happy. She twists in her seat to look back and hold out a bag. "Come on honey, we can risk the storm and eat for a OH MY GOD!" She screams, pressing back hard and sudden to smash into the wheel, making it beep. Bag dropped, hands to her mouth. Eyes wide. Staring at you. That great cobweb mass of pearl hair tangled about her arms. What's wrong? What's going on? I look in the rearview mirror. The shadow there is not who she was expecting. That's not who she thought she was talking to.
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Jan 27, 2021 06:25
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We are just a consistent fuckup aren't we. That said, the fact that the person thought we wouldn't eat chicken does indicate that it is in part related to our obsessively bird-loving character.
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Jan 27, 2021 09:25
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My guess is that she was expecting the Holy End version of us, or perhaps the pre-End version we see in flashbacks, and saw... well, the shambles we are, which I suspect might look quite a bit different even before you take into account all the nastiness we've been through lately.
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Jan 27, 2021 10:01
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I think she might be Bella, from when we were in the ship. She's a witch, and she has some sort of a drinking problem. Which makes this line interesting:quote:But what made you like her so much was how she knew exactly when to back off. She knew what he had been through, knew some of what you had been through, and so there was an understanding between villains. Also good to know MC&D really are everywhere. Grond fucked around with this message at 19:23 on Jan 28, 2021 |
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Jan 27, 2021 10:43
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Maybe it has to do with whatever the glitch that we tripped while Tyrant did to us. Our portrait at the end there looked pretty bleak.
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Jan 27, 2021 16:20
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Clearly she was disturbed by our incredibly ramshackle, tatty suit. This is a clear indication that our next task should be to find a tailor and turn our fine silks into a new suit suitable for a Tyrant Singer.
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Jan 27, 2021 16:23
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Randalor posted:Clearly she was disturbed by our incredibly ramshackle, tatty suit. This is a clear indication that our next task should be to find a tailor and turn our fine silks into a new suit suitable for a Tyrant Singer. Can it be a dress?
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Jan 27, 2021 21:03
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Katsuma posted:Can it be a dress? The character is able to wear anything and everything. But they do have a personal quirk about trusting suits above all other forms of garment. LOADING...  ...LOADING
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Jan 27, 2021 21:29
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What the hell is a dollar-store solidarity?
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Jan 27, 2021 22:24
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Mutually understanding between folks who've worked retail?
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Jan 27, 2021 22:38
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Arcanuse posted:Mutually understanding between folks who've worked retail? Having worked retail, that'd check out.
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Jan 28, 2021 02:24
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So, after thinking for awhile on it, this is what I think is going on, based on some things I'll explain (please correct me if I'm wrong on any of this). There are two "games" in this game, Hell End and Heaven End (either selectable at the start, or the developer was pulling a Pokemon Red/Blue thing... well, okay, Demikids Light and Dark, but who other than I have ever heard of those two?). They both show the same "world", set in the same time period after an apocalyptic event, but Hell End seems to have descended further into barbarism and anarchy. We've heard of groups of people, but have never actually seen any crowds outside of the dream of Dancer, and the only groups we hear of are cults or fey. Heaven End, from everything that seems to stem from it, was more feudal, with order being maintained by groups that the player could join and actual groups of people. As well, the ruling classes differ quite a bit, with the Lords only appearing in Hell End (Burner and Dancer not being Lords in the Heaven End camp, but Blue and Red), and the Emperors possibly filling the role in Heaven End. What this also means is that, if that is correct, then the 8th Lord is a Hell End character. Also, the Black Crown is treated completely differently between Heaven and Hell, where in one, it seems to be a curse, while in the other... we used it to make a guy think we're crazy and no one else batted an eye at it. I don't know if the map is randomized, I'm assuming there would be some form of randomization to it, outside of just random events for each area (that we actually had to scout to find out what was where implies that its not set in stone each game) but that the various areas are guaranteed to show up SOMEWHERE in the game. As well, there are some "universal constants" in the form of the Mythos and Fey aspects. MC&D and the Fungus from Pluto have shown up in both Ends, for example. Considering how verbose the Heaven End content has seemed to be, I'm guessing that was more akin to an Interactive Fiction rather than the rogue-like JRPG Hell End is presented as, where you build up relations with other characters to... something something hey look Heaven End us is hanging around with the Emperor of Heaven and the Emperor of Hell. Neat.
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Jan 28, 2021 06:39
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My eyes never closed. I had simply dreamed awake, the blackness slowly fading in to the dim bathroom blue. Dreamed of what? I don't want to think about it. OST: Dawn THE NINTH DAY TYRANNY: [10%] [ HP: -70 / 20 ] [DEATH'S DOOR!!!] [ FP: 42 / ▓14 ] God. God I hurt. But it isn't a fatal pain- there is no damaged organs, no ruptured vessels, no torn flesh. It's a body that's unconvinced it's meant to be alive, but the raw of my intent forces it to cling to the illusion. Standing me up is the sheer excess of energy I feel, the only thing keeping my Tyranny from full collapse. I walk like an electrocuted corpse, forcing glassy bones to support my awkward steps. One hard fall and my heart will stop. I lean on the wall of the stall, and grunt. (Blubbleblood Spell) 12 - [3]+[2]+[4] = 9 - Success. Healed - [3]+3 = 6 HP [ HP: -64 / 20 ] [DEATH'S DOOR!!!] [ FP: 39 / ▓14 ] ... Weakly, I bap my fist on the wall. Useless, stupid, pointless spell. It's a slow and steady shamble out of the bathroom, which leads me again to the lobby, and not the hall where the meat was sleeping beneath. I've escaped with my life on the thread, which now forces me to figure out where I am. I try my best to remember what the Silver Mind saw atop the skyscraper. (IQ - Remember...) 10 - [3]+[4]+[3] = 10 - Exact Success. I exhale with relief, sitting in the rotting swivel chair of the lobby desk. I can see it, through the skeletal haze of leaked life clouding everything.  Thank God. I'm still in the valley. I'm too weak to make sense of all the Silver Mind saw, but I can use it to guide myself back to the Hideout. ...but it's going to be a long ways, and I'm in poor shape. 20 miles or so. I could wait out a few days in the bathroom, but that isn't safe enough. I can never go back upstairs again. I stand up, and start to limp to the door. It's another cloudy-dim day, ground and sky lit with the eerie glow of the fungus growing over everything. Clearly this was a terraforming project by the Plutos, to give themselves just enough of their homeland to stay alive in. With Wash safe and on their side, they can go back to foraging and thriving. What? I can't think clearly. Too much damage. I gently slump down and lie in a warm pool of squishy yellow fungus on a street road, staring up at the massive towers surrounding me. No. No, I have to get up. (WL) 19 - [1]+[3]+[2] = 6 - Great Success. GET UP. I'm at the city limits. Where it disintegrates into woodland. Wonderful wide warm woodland. Trees spackled Christmas-bright with all the colours only revealed by psilolight. Dripping-heavy webs of fungus whip in the cool wind. Insects chitter hidden inside the rotsweet bark, but there's a uneasy peace with the sound. The forest knows I trust the fungus, thinks I AM the fungus. Mush-room mush-room. I can't abuse that notion. I need to get out of here. The smallest nip in the bud would see me become fertilizer. I know that the east revealed something strange- the Silver Mind saw a boat on the river, lit with soft paper lamps, smelling of the sea and loud with hurdy-gurdy. Do I risk it? Do I chance for a brief respite before the mad charge home? 20 miles... in my state, at best, I'll be there by Sunfall. Do I go east or south?
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Jan 28, 2021 19:54
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Strapless seems to be acting up again, but I voted East. Even if we don't get to the boat, we shouldn't press our luck with the forest.
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Jan 28, 2021 20:05
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quote:With Wash safe and on their side, they can go back to foraging and thriving Also I've been thinking about the usage of color in the story thus far. Silver, Red and Blue have been pretty prominent so far. We've also seen tourmaline mentioned frequently alongside the Holy End. To the best of my knowledge tourmaline isn't a color, but the story seems to treat it as such. Which is probably appropriate, associating a color that can't be seen with the good end that can't be reached. And, we've also seen Yellow in a couple of scenes. And every time it's appeared something seriously hosed up happened shortly after. I guess it's appropriate considering all the Lovecraft references but it kind of makes me wonder if maybe Yellow would be the color of hell in this world. It would certainly explain why the hallway fungus went into turbomurder mode when we tried to go back down while the ascent was relatively normal. Also, uh, yeah, going through a fungal forest at -60HP doesn't sound like the best option rn tbh. Grond fucked around with this message at 05:08 on Jan 29, 2021 |
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Jan 29, 2021 04:30
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VOTING CLOSED - I Can't Think Well So Do It For Me And Do It Right Head east out of the forest, to the boat seen by the Silver Mind. - 27 Hope the forest will ignore me, and risk the wounded run to the south. - 2 LOADING...  ...LOADING [Update in the AM]
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Jan 29, 2021 06:49
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 leave. leave the forest, now. right now. the Silver Mind is asleep and the mushrooms aren't sporing and I realize that means the forest, the forest in chaos will smell my dusty dark, catch my midnight scent, and then land land land ALIVE. gotta leave time to go back to the city limit line to hook it east fast fast go go It takes me an hour to make it to the hills. I stumble and slide a dozen times, shaking hands barely able to grip the rock. I should be in a hospital bed. I shouldn't be able to lift a finger, much less walk miles and miles. Only possible by my intent. Only able to with my will. Liquid shadow animating the dust of my bones. This is good. This is practice for the manytime inevitable. This is proof of my Tyranny.  Oh, blessed. The river rages underneath my body, where I curl up below an outcropping of mossy brown stone. I run my hand over the soft plantmatter, fighting every second against the demand for cessation from my ruined body. Not yet, no. I grasp them. Muscles and bones, coordination and nerves, stomach and system, and drag them through the burning black of intention. Get up. Stand up. Look down into the cold river waters. Climb from the stone, clinging weak but with infinite energy, the contrast troubling my weak brain. I tell it to shut up and turn mono, obedience to the single-mind ethos. It's a long struggle to make my way across where it's narrow and shallow enough to pass in my ruined state. I ignore the frustration building up in me, too weak to afford it. I'm starting to realize I may not be able to make it back to safety within the day, but I refuse to accept that until nightfall is on me. My legs are drenched, and I can't feel them as I shuffle across the stony ground. My arms are on fire, full of energy but raw with pain. I continue my zombified stumble down into the mercy of the clean grass, soft pale blue, fighting to not lie down on the kindness of the land. The boat. There's a boat. There, in the lightless reflection of the infinite silver. I can hear it on the wind now. An instrument guiding me to the river's pocket.  OST: An Old Friend (For A Price) It IS a boat. I go flat to the ground, refusing to get comfortable. I scan the shores of the river pocket, seeing no other movement. The small river boat drifts in the shallows, a structure of fine dark wood and narrow pale windows, moving without sign of an engine or sail. Dim paper lanterns adorn its inside and out, and the breeze carries a multitude of strange-appealing smells. It takes time in the gloom for my weakened eyes to adjust to the movement inside, where I can see the boat's owner moving about. He's short, hunched and stooped, draped head to toe in a series of heavy pale tarps, silks, fabrics, and charms, face hidden save for the smallest window for his eyes. He walks out onto the deck, playing with a complex instrument without a seeming care.  I... I need to get closer. Maybe... maybe with my gun, I could... (DX - Stealth) 11 - [5]+[5]+[6] = 16 - Failure! Well, I could shamble up too close, slip on some water-sogged ground, sink partway into mud, end up losing my balance, grunting while I topple over, land on the flat of my sword hard enough to make me cry out, and start to spit and seethe while crawling on the grass in full view of the shrouded figure. He takes notice. He stops playing his instrument, and with a salty-dark roughened voice, calls out "AYE! WHAT'S STALKIN' THE SHORE?" A light shines directly on me. I hiss, throwing up a hand and baring my teeth as the new source of pain sees me nearly lose my Tyranny. But both my fear and anger subside when I hear the voice pitch into a high watery gurgle of a scream, as the flashlight he holds is dropped and he stumbles back over his chair, nearly plummeting into the water. "Salty King, save me! The Lord sends me my punishment at last!!" Just as quickly as he reacts in terror at the sight of me, he leaps into the water, landing on top of it as though it is solid ground. He bends his arms in strange motions with each freakishly graceful step he takes as the water seems to rise up like stepping stones beneath him. He's on the shore and near me too fast to defend- all I can do is hold my arm up in warding as I grunt the pain down into my throat, eyes rolling wild as I crawl back. The hunched man advances, arms raised and bent- I see water dance in time with his motions behind him, a liquid force obeying his intentions. He stops to look at me critically, before he makes a grand and sweeping motion... (Elementalism) ?? - [6]+[6]+[5] = 17 - CRITICAL FAILURE!! ...which he takes too far with the weight of the water. He shrieks when he bends, and there's an ugly crackling *POP* as he falls over, the water coming down to drench him. It's his turn to scream in pain. He rolls in the mud, shouting "AHHHHH M'BACK! SALT MY SPINE! CURSE THE CORPOREAL! GOD HAVIN' VENGEANCE UPON YET AGAIN!!" Ahhh, he's shouting so loud. Now I'm crying out in pain again, my ears ringing and heart stinging. Two freaks screaming under an eternally-disappointed gray sky. The fits pass in a minute, leaving us both panting and tied to the earth. He makes the first move, throwing up a hand with a pitiful gurgle. "Sanctum, SANCTUM! Oh sinner I'm punished. Forgive! Ye had me crying like the newspawned. Peace, peace!" No. I refuse. I'm not going to let him get away with this. I'm... I'm not gonna... [ HP: -64 / 20 ] [---> DEATH'S DOOR!!! <---] [ FP: 37 / ▓14 ] ...........ahhhhhhhhhh. poo poo. I throw up my hand too, slow and awkward. Fine. Fine. Peace. I tell him, with a voice even I can barely understand, that I'm not hostile. I don't... it'd be too much painful effort to kill him. It'd be humiliating to, even. So fine. I give to chance. "Aye? Aye..." he gurgles wetly, as though he was constantly sipping water. "Thenner... yer a customer then, aye? Lookit ya! Shambles and shadows. Just let me..." He gets up, giving a weak old cry as he snaps his back into place, swinging his arms and making his charms jingle-jangle as he tries to restore function. He straightens from his stoop, hard enough to send a cacophony of crackles through him, before he slumps back down to wetly exhale. "Then... c'mon then. Let's get ye the seat'n'treat. You've come to Ol' Napp's, an' I've got mucher interest in givin' a sale than throwin' chum to the Salty King. Up, up then." His hand reaches out. It was old, wet, wrinkled, webbed, pale. I can see his eyes, tired and milky. He reeks of the ocean and spices. My best course is to just believe him and conserve my strength, in case I have to make the sudden kill. I put my hand out, the other gently pocketed next to my gun, and he pulls me up with surprising strength. "Aye! Aye yer a skinner, aren'tya? Let's walk. Let Ol' Napp show you what the wares of the day and what you could pay. My sinnin' means the mercy of a discount!" He leads me to his boat, which he pulls to the shore with gentle motions of his arms. He clambers on with effort, still favoring his strained back, and turns to allow me on. I enter the floating store of the weird old merchant...
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Jan 29, 2021 20:11
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Oh, I hope he plays his instrument so we can sing... Our singing voice is so nice.
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Jan 29, 2021 22:53
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Yeah, I know SHE'll be pissed about it, but just having a musical riverboat cruise while we get back to positive HP is very tempting. ZEN: Chill End
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Jan 29, 2021 23:23
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A mysterious merchant clad in heavy robes, inexplicably in a dangerous location? ...is he going to sell us some cool guns? 
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Jan 30, 2021 00:10
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I was thinking more the water troll... thing from an early Diskworld novel that lived along the circum-fence (long story short, Diskworld is a disk, one sea-based kingdom built a long net along the ocean to catch everything before it drifted over the edge, the water troll was a troll made of water that collected the stuff caught in the fence)
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Jan 30, 2021 03:38
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TYRANNY: [7%] Wow. The smell! It's not bad, but it makes my head dizzy, and softens some of the pain. Smells of water, gemstone, spices and incense, fresh fish and strong sauces, old paper and brimstone, mud and reeds. The inside is much more impressive when seen from within. There's an impressive array of displays and shelves, cleanly delineated among the chaos with colorful drapes and a dozen aquariums of mystic make, filled with rainbow jellyfish and strange transparent blacklight squidlings, some connected by brass plastic tubes with crystal slits to see little fish darting within. There's weapons and armor racks, clothing hangers over sealed chess sets, a tiny kitchen, and even a breakfast nook with a small bonsai garden wood hole down into the waters beneath. Napp carefully shuffles into the carnage, where a single open space in the middle allows steady access to every other part of the floating shop. I stand in a dim-eye haze, listening to him gurgle and gargle in a strange sung-muttered language I don't recognize. He moves racks and boxes around, many of them seemingly connected into hidden wood clockwork, allowing them to slide and rearrange effortlessly. The shrouded merchant arranges a small collection of goods, before he stumbles down into the kitchen corner to dance his hand in a watergraced motion, seeming to fill a mechanism that connects to a coffee pot. Oh my God. Coffee. I smell coffee. Oh. Oh that's just- I remember those rarest of rations. I remember that one Tuesday morning when we were waiting for the sound of a Boogeyman who- "Aye then. Let's brew us a cup, as amends. Ol' Napp learned the hospital method, what when ol Anamelech opened 'er bar and I hung out all the often. Makes good graces and good business to have amends with quality. Have the seat that rears ye. I need to brew a fixme'own, back has a hate in the climates of this line." Garbage Disposal + Compromised Cranium + The Silver Mind posted:
I don't even sigh. It'd hurt too much. I have to just gamble some more and let go, not summon the tensing kill. I turn and there's a junky leather chair pulled aside that's just enormous. I enthrone myself slowly, mindful of the noisy crackle of every joint. God. Ow. Now... ok. Napp has quite the collection, but he curates to only sell what he wants to leave, or maybe thinks I'd like. There is a pretty eclectic menu to look over, each item carefully labeled. It'd be a blessing to have some promise of a supply line.  (Elementalism) Brewing - [3]+[1]+[2] = 6 - Great Success! Napp finishes his brewing, flourishing with his hand as he settles himself a tall wooden mug of a strong smelling mixture, and offers me a simple worn mug of pitch black. I restrain myself only by how tired my arms are. The mug is painfully hot when I grasp it, and I welcome the sensation. It wakes me, forces my focus, as I seat it on Red's shroud and hold the handle. The merchant steps aside, and gestures. "Go an'haver look with it all then! Ol' Napp buys and sells all the types." He tap taps a sign, which drifts on the light river breeze when it passes through the slitted tall windows. It has a painted rendition of him, gesturing with reservation at a much more extreme script of advertisement. It claims he really does it all- 'Trade & Paid For Your Made & Slayed', 'Crouf & Crud For Crafts & Creations', 'Fabulous Fashions For The Fancy & Fae', 'Slashed Sales For Sword Saints', and a dozen more slogans for things I don't even see being offered within sight. The merchant apologizes, "Take a gander and let the drink soften the woe! Let this sinner have his sip for a bad back- as a final offering, I'll give a choice, I will. I've special wares, a shifting menu, the top shelf stock n' store. Usually I'm takin' unique currencies for a peek, but for the fallin', I'll give you an open pick of any one to take a browse of. Promise of the Salty King." Ah. Alright. I can- first the coffee, though. I have to drink it. I can sip and finally let something taste good while I read over what he's offering. SELL posted:
Here Is The Current Sale Selection Napp Offers If there's anything you find especially appealing, feel free to post considerations before any final choices come in for what to choose to sell, buy, or to abstain entirely. More importantly, there is another choice to be made. Which of the special selection categories would you like to unlock free of charge?
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Jan 30, 2021 04:57
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Blow for Coffee plant! Do we have a way to test this guy for being Hider? Because I would not put it past that guy to not be hiding where a tooltip says they are.
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Jan 30, 2021 05:09
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Trading blow for coffee seems like a decent idea. We'll be halfway to a balanced breakfast!
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Jan 30, 2021 05:13
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Blow for coffee works. We seem to be unified, mind, body and soul on coffee=good, and drugs are bad (though I could also see it being useful in case we ran into any of Dancer's followers and needed to... negotiate with them that we're good with Dancer). Either Blow or the Tchoblade, that just seems like a "Too good to ever use" item. And I voted for Java for the second choice, to go with our coffee plant (because we kinda need a way to roast and grind said beans). Edit: Wait... quote:He tap taps a sign, which drifts on the light river breeze when it passes through the slitted tall windows. It has a painted rendition of him, gesturing with reservation at a much more extreme script of advertisement. It claims he really does it all- 'Trade & Paid For Your Made & Slayed', 'Crouf & Crud For Crafts & Creations', 'Fabulous Fashions For The Fancy & Fae', 'Slashed Sales For Sword Saints', and a dozen more slogans for things I don't even see being offered within sight. The merchant apologizes, "Take a gander and let the drink soften the woe! Let this sinner have his sip for a bad back- as a final offering, I'll give a choice, I will. I've special wares, a shifting menu, the top shelf stock n' store. Usually I'm takin' unique currencies for a peek, but for the fallin', I'll give you an open pick of any one to take a browse of. Promise of the Salty King." HOLY poo poo WE FOUND A TAILOR! NEW SUIT! Randalor fucked around with this message at 05:27 on Jan 30, 2021 |
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Jan 30, 2021 05:24
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The Jandit!® sounds interesting, could've sworn one of the Lords had a way to rust gear. Also for extended underwater trips. The Deluxifier also sounds good, especially for the Black Blade since we can't lose it (permanently). Oh, and the coffee plant of course. So. -Tchoblade for Deluxifier -Gold Ink Scroll for Coffee Plant Would swap something for the Jandit!® as well; but would rather keep what we have left. Depending on what the airy potion does, it might even be counterproductive. 
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Jan 30, 2021 06:04
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| # ? Jun 1, 2024 06:22 |
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I would actually look to grabbing the Jandit!. The Sunset Shroud is a fire-element thing, and 9/10 times water trumps fire. Nipping that weakness in the bud is always a good idea. e: 'Boletus' means mushroom, and therefore gets my vote.
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Jan 30, 2021 06:53
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