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Regallion posted:Ah, is condemn the special technique you can use on a building to immediately declare it unfit for use? Not sure why that's a beast art, but i guess OSHA do be like that. they don't gently caress around in the Hell End
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Feb 10, 2021 11:18
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| # ? Jun 6, 2024 01:17 |
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You turn and begin to run to the north river, I turn and begin to run to the south forest, We turn and stand our ground; gun, drawn, up, aimed, out. (HT - Positive Mana Overflow!) 14 - [1]+[5]+[2] = 8 - Success! [+6 HP!] [ HP: -44 / 20 ] [ FP: 33 / ▓14 ] You don't have to think when it comes to this reflex. It's iron-trained and deep-ingrained. Line up the sights. Both hands steady. Wait for the wolf to come into range, aim, (!Tyranny) 17(-6 Defense) - [4]+[6]+[1] = 11 - Success. [-1 Bullet]  Bang. The bullet is reloaded in an instant; you watch the wolf's body jerk hard as the shot roars across its side. Clean clean clean shot. The thunder startles you into the lucid of your waking dream, the pills rattling blood and bone with the constant outpouring of Mana. The wolf... scraggly white thing, too too too lean. Streaked with pale chlorine dust, claws sharp with metal rust. Everything wrong-long slender. It paces back and forth at a distance, watching you intently as the clouds gather thick back about the black of your skull. You fight to keep yourself in the moment, the alchemical bond of physiology to dream constantly washing your identity down in a rainbow of uncertainty.  You who is I who is we who can't die begins to back away with the gun still aimed at the carnivore King, whose wound is already starting to mend itself- that shot would have dropped a normal wolf. You think, you have to think, your shoes slipping on the wet pale grass, your knees powering through deep snow, your shoulders drenched with tropic rains. Waving the gun as if you're going to fire again doesn't scare it off. The dusty dog bares its teeth at the motion, and begins a steady advance. It was ready to risk you. The Silver Mind is still too dim to dredge up, where it remains mired in the silent dark that can't remember its own ego. (HT - Positive Mana Overflow!) 14 - [6]+[6]+[4] = 16 - Failure! [-2 HP!]  Your brain flips green as Mana spikes too hard for your body to handle, the Dreamlands connection making your body wrench as though you were waking up from a dream of falling. You hold down the sound of pain, but the wolf hears and advances quicker, seconds from a flying leap to the throat. There wasn't going to be any burgers from this wolf... the dream logic was quickly turning nightmare-strong, the certainty of the monster catching you at the End. The bullet did enough to deter it for this long- with the last second of coherence, your magic flares bright with a sudden final option before the prayer of emptying your gun. Event Log posted:
You stumble backwards, and catch your breath. You- you're gone. Clear! The wolf is snuffling around with ears perked, but you can't make any noise either- your motions are silenced. You can't even smell yourself. You are still casting a shadow however, faint as it is beneath the iron sky. Your thinking is just fast enough this time- you know this isn't going to last long. Your body is steadily healing, you have a free ticket to run, and you have what feels like infinite stamina to sprint and not stop until you felt ready to drop. You don't know how long you have before the Dreamlands cloud your mind again, and so you're off out into the treeline, down a hill and through the Flowering Forest border, Red's cloak fluttering behind you in warm silence. (HT - RUN) 14 - [6]+[3]+[4] = 13 - Success. You're going down the rabbit hole by the time you come up for air at the grand of the river's tribridge. (HT - Positive Mana Overflow!) 14 - [1]+[2]+[4] = 7 - Success! [+7 HP!] You gasp and drag yourself from the river, I pant and run out of the Flowering Forest, We step and climb up the wooden bridges of the Riverbell. Ego's Dream In Death posted:You're standing at the fork in the river, wishing Aitvaras were here to shield you from the cold. Above, the sky is clearing, revealing an evil brilliance of moonlight and the clear bright of the stars. A mighty wind throws snow and rain around you, and on it carries the sound of the hundreds at war with the nightmare chorus of just as many wolves. You gasp at the sheer force of the impact. You kneel low, legs burning, realizing your invisibility has worn off as you pull your gun and- You-  You... (HT - Positive Mana Overflow!) 14 - [4]+[1]+[3] = 8 - Success! [+6 HP!] ANXIETY: [ X ][ X ][30%]
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Feb 11, 2021 07:48
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How. How? How back here? (!First-Aid) 10 - [2]+[2]+[3] = 7 - Success. The Doctor posted:
You're still scared shitless. Comforting as the sudden understanding of your condition is, you have zero recollection of the last- how long has it been? How did you get back? Why would you come here? Praying, you turn to begin the jog back to your room. Two steps in and you're tumbling, body confused as to whether it's asleep or awake. You fight it back just in time to catch yourself on the hard stone, and stiffly rise into a limping half-run. Your return from the deeper precipices of death shocks you with clarity, mind going overdrive with the magic of your biology glowing jade. You have to start thinking. You're going to get to your room, and you're going to hide for the day. There's a wolf you shot still somewhere out there, and it might be searching for your scent. You're still healing, and you're going to be drowning down in a dream again any second. No telling when the mushrooms might wake up and go berserk, either. But before you're lost to that soul-free, you have to decide some things. You got LUCKY with whatever happened the last unreal two days. The tower of the Plutos was a nightmare, and God only knows what might have happened if you found yourself somewhere far from the Hideout. You climb out of the hatch, and onto the roof. Orange-gray twilight and a light rain. Do you smell snow on the breeze...? No rushing over the rooftop; your stardoomed accident is still fresh in your mind, body prickling at the memory. You slow when nearing the door, hand-half-raised to the handle. Finally back. But you have to commit before you walk through, and fall down into a dream. You have to commit to three roads. What dreams may come? What will the morrow bring? What does your heart tell you?
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Feb 12, 2021 07:08
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[NOTICE] Shorter update, but I had to dish off some medical visits, and now have to take off for the weekend for some family business. There will be updates, but expect irregularities. Until then; LOADING...  ...LOADING
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Feb 12, 2021 07:09
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I am not as hardcore as a sunburner O_O
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Feb 12, 2021 08:14
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Just spent the last few days reading this whole thread, and harassing various people I know to check it out so I can talk about it with them. This is such a cool story and concept! Much as I'd like a firmer grasp on what's going on, I hope it maintains some ambiguity through to the end, because that's really making the experience for me. I wonder if Smiercia's gift was this reincarnation loop/layered reality situation we're finding ourselves in, with the properly prepared people blessed (cursed) with never truly dying, just forever reincarnating into their same selves? And I wonder if her anger has to do with her daughter escaping that loop somehow, either by following a "normal" path of reincarnation into a new self (e.g. she's the chicken) or "moving on" to some other plane of existence beyond Smiercia's reach (which at least seems to be what Smiercia believes has happened). Of course I'm not ruling out that we are, or rather, one of the facets of ourselves is, Smiercia's daughter, because the player character's reaction to Smiercia feels very scared-child-about-abusive-parent to me. Idk, just when a grim reaper wants to bestow a "gift" on mankind, some kind of undying dystopia is the first thing to spring to mind.
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Feb 12, 2021 08:20
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2 things: Surprised so few people are voting for our best friend, yellow flower. Also, since the character sheet was updated to remove the potion, but we are still at 6/6 bullets for our revolver, it's now canon that we shot the wolf with our "guns" and every time the text mentions "gun's out" that just means we are flexing menacingly at everything in range.
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Feb 12, 2021 08:33
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Regallion posted:2 things: i thought the flower being rotten might be a bad omen, likewise the black cat but i think i'm the only one that voted the blue pool currently so it's probably just that folks love cats
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Feb 12, 2021 08:39
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I hoped it meant we'd get to hang out with the cats of Ulthar, since we know they're hanging out in the Dreamlands.
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Feb 12, 2021 08:58
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Princey posted:I hoped it meant we'd get to hang out with the cats of Ulthar, since we know they're hanging out in the Dreamlands. haha yeah i did think of that after i'd voted, ah well figure it's best to go with your gut on these things to some extent anyways and on the bright side it looks like the cats pretty much have that one so hopefully we can chill with them
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Feb 12, 2021 09:51
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Also, yellow seems to be a Bad colour in this setting - the last time we dreamed of yellow it didn’t work out super-well for us. Blue is the colour of Dancer - it might be good to check up on her, but ultimately I can’t resist the siren song of tiny mythos catte. 
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Feb 12, 2021 10:29
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Pet the kitty!
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Feb 12, 2021 11:44
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I voted for the kitty. Maybe he'll want pets and someone to open tins of cat food for him and his furry friends. Though there is a 50/50 chance that's the OTHER cats who probably want to use us as a scratching post, mind you. I also voted for kayak. Edit: I just looked up what the Cats from Saturn were because I didn't recall them at all. Yeah... "looks vaugly like a cat while also looking like something out of a bad acid trip" seems a pretty decent way of describing them. Randalor fucked around with this message at 14:42 on Feb 12, 2021 |
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Feb 12, 2021 14:38
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ngl Black August, seeing your avatar not being Heather is very confusing. I recognize people primarily be their AV, it's like someone switching their face!
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Feb 12, 2021 19:02
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Thanks, Princey. Glad you’re enjoying it.Razakai posted:ngl Black August, seeing your avatar not being Heather is very confusing. I recognize people primarily be their AV, it's like someone switching their face! Hah, yeah. It was a gift from thread friends. I am not used to not having my Heather branding.
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Feb 13, 2021 00:40
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Also for clarity there was a seventh bullet, the one from West at the Camp, I just forgot to update with it this whole time.
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Feb 13, 2021 04:34
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Update coming down the pipe tonight once I get home and settle in.
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Feb 14, 2021 19:45
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MAJOR VOTE CLOSED I dream. A small black cat. - 25 A rotten yellow flower. - 8 A lovely blue pool. - 7 You see. A kayak in a lake. - 9 A chicken in a store. - 14 A sword in a field. - 16 We're gone. Gone to Megalith. - 20 Not yet. - 18 LOADING...  ...LOADING
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Feb 15, 2021 02:08
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The door opens and slams shut behind you; you're in the lightless air with the door suspended in space and you're falling, down into a grassy green, landing broken painlessly. The ground is a sunny high hill and you roll with descending momentum through flowers and ferns, thrown with violence into a misty depression among a density of trees hiding the bottom. You sit up sluggishly, your senses dimmed to blacklight-low with muscles glacial. But it wasn't there. That awful anxious agony. DREAMING: [ ~ ][ ~ ][ ~ ][ ~ ][50%] You'd think about it too much and shock yourself awake, but something does that for you when a rough sensation scrapes the back of your hand. You startle and wake up, energy suddenly there, standing quickly to dance back from the small shadowy being at your feet. You go too far and topple over into the steep incline of the depression, back against the grassy wall. Wait. You're still asleep. You're lucid! You KNOW you're asleep! ..but the second you realize that, the novelty is gone. You're not sure why you're lucid dreaming, but you're not a stranger; it was frequent in the last life. Especially when the world ended the first time, and it was happening involuntarily to everyone. Looking down, you manage a smile for your purring waker. Where was it you met? A store that you know you're going to dream of soon. It meows and stares at you intently, eyes slitted with the killmood of its kind. You obligate by petting its head before it takes off into the field, smelling along an unknown trail. You know somehow it's happy to see one of your kind here down in the dream. It had been sad. Their kind were gone by the time the world first ended, retreated to these lands in safety. You never knew them for yourself.  The kitten's card is in your hand. The Seal of Ulthar... you remember its holiness and power, the Dark forthcoming with the gravity of that truth. You're honored, you think- you just know as sure as the dream that you've are invited to something momentous. The kitten is looking back at you and it's so obvious the reason for the call; you're in a perfect state of longterm dreaming with your medication, death-deep exhaustion, and deep wounding. No better state for an iron-tethered Dreamlands walk. The kitten, and Ulthar's Council, all wanted to invite you to be their representative at the Euamur Moot. Hearing that waking, you'd be heavy with dread. Down in the dream, you simply nod in acceptance of that fantastical truth. They need you to be a speaker with the other representatives sent to the Moot, so Ulthar can work its magic and ensure their safety into the now-uncertain future. But the real reason you (and they) want to go is the food. Oh, oh you're already grinding your teeth with the sheer famine of it. The kitten is licking its chops and dreaming of the delicacies served. Despite the tension of the situation, this much was true about Marshall, Carter, & Dark. They cater at the mega-trillion level, and you don't say no to that. So you don't. It wasn't every day that an era officially ends in the Dreamlands, but here was the month of its arrival. Euamur was one of the last singing mountains of the Great Ones, a garden skyward hidden in the center of the Middle Ocean, where it lines up in geometric perfect as seat before the horizon throne... of the City. You've been walking up a hill to get the right angle, as hundreds of miles slope down up through around the Enchanted Woods. You manage to get the perfect angle at last, where you see it at the center of a great curvewood circle, laurel gate to frame that awful ultimate place. It's always there, on the horizon, no matter how far you go or deep you dream. Forever the waypoint and crown. It had been there in the waking world as well, during the final days when the invasion left the earth unable to know if it was dream or wake. It rises now as it did then, at perfect north. The mountain of solar height. Those cold prism-blue wastes. Obsidian of lava-star dark. Crowning Crowning Crowning, under all-sky constellation bright, was the City. The Black City. The Final City. The Eternal City. The Throne City. The Crown City. The Holy Holy Holy City. Dreamed Dark City. Sacred Quest City. Lonely Lonely Lonely City. Weeping Worshiping Weary City. Oh, you sink to your knees among the grass summerdreamed. There, under the noongold light that came from no Sun. Fist too weak to clench, clawing at the air with longing bent, you speak its name in your tired sleep.  Every dreaming soul hates it with all their heart, and beg the God for the loveless grace to one day ascend and walk royal among its parade. You manage to breathe again when the laurel gate has the grace to gently close the sight of the City from you, and the kitten distracts for a minute of attention by mewling with the demand you pet it. You play for a while among the shaded dense grass, thinking over the journey. You are going to stop by Ulthar to meet with their Council, before you journey to the Moot. It'd take a few weeks, but you have that and time to spare. By the time you finished that thought, you've already left the woods, found the river, and followed it before parting the plains east to Ulthar. It had been a good week trip with the kitten, whose stumbling and learning nature was both a delight to see, as well as a good ward against the other predators of the enormous forest. You're wrapped tight and hidden like a hermit in the summer love of Red's cloak, the cat running alongside you tirelessly as you navigate the feline-choked elder roads of the town.  Modern convenience has come to Ulthar like it has the rest of the Dreamlands, but in extremely controlled and limited amounts. It was an agreement between everyone who had been living there, cats and noncats alike. The community's communication left it a simple issue, though there was always the tension of nonstop invasive offers and visitors. The kitten leaves you off in the downtown strip in front of a small restaurant stall, where a lean feldspar troll looks down at you and your companion. The cat meows once and leaves; the troll just nods and has you sit at the single small stool while you wait for the kitten's return. It's still a summer afternoon, the light angling down through a dozen layers of multihued silk sheets string up over the small stall. You relax into the journey, smelling what the troll is cooking on its dense stone grill in the narrow alley back.  The troll returns just when your mind is risking a wander deeper into the dream, and wordlessly leaves you with the special order the kitten got. Grooved circular platter. Flank of dark blue meat heavily seasoned with onyx, south ocean, and local salts, lightly spiced, the fat trimmed and used to fry some plain grassgreens, with a red and gray side sauce. Moonbeast meat, you're told. Ulthar won that war and killed them all, but had the sense to preserve a great deal of the corpses for later celebration. This kind of gesture would make you cramp with guilty fear in waking. But it was Ulthar, and the dream doesn't lie. Cats don't think like you did. They did these things for reasons comfortably beyond your understanding, but it was also as simple as bribery. They just LIKE you, in the most impersonally affectionate way their kind can. So you eat the rare delicacy with slow appreciation. It was a funky flavor for sure, but the excess of salts broke up the lunar fats, frying it into something special. It's a slow and relaxed afternoon as you finish the food. You're ready to meet the Ulthar Council, and the kitten was here now to lead the way. But not before you lean down and offer a slice of the moonbeast you saved, which the kitten noisily eats with eager appetite. The gesture is simple, understood, and appreciated; this leads to no time wasted as you head down to the lakeside thrones of the Council. The lake is placid as always, thick with fish, quietly gold in the noonlight and dense with leafy life, which rustles with a thousand tails. Nine thrones of nine colors sit simple resplendent above the shore, in which is seated nine lazing resplendent cats. You stand and show respect, by petting each one in turn. They have little wooden signs under each pillow throne, with their sacred names. The Cat What Swims In The Ground. Pitch Black Cat. Dead Cat. 9th. Stinky. Prince Cattington. Chips. Cornstarch. Chowder. You sit before them, and they tell you about the Euamur Moot. About the new era coming to the turbulent Dreamlands. How Ulthar will be eternally grateful if you help.
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Feb 15, 2021 07:59
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LANDCAT? Also, who voted to go to megalith? What do you expect to do there? We can't very well kill any lords and barging into their sanctum ain't gonna make them like us. The only one who would probably find it funny is Dancer, but Dancer is locked out of her own megalith isn't she? Also grab that dead cat, if we also find a severed paw and a tail we can become guppy and that's a straight run-winner tbh. Regallion fucked around with this message at 08:26 on Feb 15, 2021 |
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Feb 15, 2021 08:16
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Pet the kitty! Help the kitty!
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Feb 15, 2021 09:45
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(DEX - go for the belly rubs) ? - [1]+[5]+[1] = 7 - Success...?
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Feb 15, 2021 11:16
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The initial greeting is over. It gives you time to sit and look at the Council of Ulthar in their lazing repose, while the kitten has a fit attacking some stray bugs in the grass. The eldest of the Council, who has been a part of it since its formation, is The Cat What Swims In The Ground. He sits with just his head bobbing above his pillow throne, gently wading through the fabric, colored a pale gold. The lean and languid cat is in charge of all things mystical, hiding the secrets of Cat Magic. To his right is the Pitch Black Cat. It can barely be seen on its all-black pillow throne, blending in with shadow's perfection. It absorbs close to 100% of the light that strikes it, leaving only the brilliance of orange eyes to reveal its presence. It rules over the silence of cats, forever innovating new ways to stalk in the dark. To his left, Dead Cat. A lovely little minskin, it seems forever asleep, only active when noncat beings were not looking at it. The corpse enjoyed the attention when seen though, happy to be held and petted in decease. It knows the secrets that hide between the 9 lives of cats, and some say it has managed to discover the way to achieve the 10th Life. In the next tier of thrones is another three cats. 9th is first, beneath Dead Cat, a battle-scarred mau of killing speed and daredevilry. Already she's lost 8 of her lives, living with the greatest power on the edge with her 9th, where she learns more and more of the grace arts that gives all cats their defiance of the scythe. Pawing at 9th's bedding is Stinky. She is a lovely strange cat, with alabaster hairless skin and ruby eyes, sphynx of lineage but blessed with starry blood. She is a lover of water, using her rare gift to discover secrets kept from most of catkind. She gained her fame by the slaying and eating of deep Mythos horrors. Prince Cattington sits in the cluster-center of the other eight, regal in her repose. She wears a little cloak and hood, hiding a tiny cat crown, sleepy in the noonlight while she grooms her magpie paw. There were few better cats to entertain relations with the allies catkind, and she had won a million hearts for the Council's ends. The last three are an odd bunch, sitting among the three lowest thrones. There's Chips, a small red shorthair, with one lazy blue eye and oversized claws. He shreds paper and plastic on his seat, meowing off in random directions as if responding to someone's calls. Chips has no true role on the Council, save maybe as jester and party cat. Cornstarch does not sit on his throne. He hovers over it enormously. The super-fluffy gray cat is a master of PSI, having discovered new avenues of development for cat mind. He was strong enough to never walk unless desired, and could even float in his frequent sleep. The final cat is Chowder. Chowder is Cattington's sister, a small thing with gigantic green eyes perpetually open with slit-pupil fright. Even when sitting still, she's blurred from how rapidly she shakes and thrashes, senses pushing out into a million directions in constant threat assessment and territorial dispute. She is the Council's valued crisis manager, and had been reduced to a barely-tolerable 10 hours of sleep a day to keep up with the current danger to Ulthar. You sit and smile, relaxed. You would be talking about the impending moot and its significance, as was mentioned before, but it was nap time and the Council only worked when not napping. So the mandatory wait begins, while you doze on the grassy shore and play with the kitten. ~ ~ ~ ULTHAR-MANDATED BREAK TIME ~ ~ ~ 
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Feb 15, 2021 20:07
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[intermission/nap music] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9DHXaGXJixs
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Feb 15, 2021 21:17
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holy crap why didn't we go immediately to their place when we first got their invite????
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Feb 15, 2021 21:59
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Marluxia posted:holy crap why didn't we go immediately to their place when we first got their invite???? because we have no reliable way of entering dreamlands for any period of time? We are here only because we are literally almost dead and unconsious.
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Feb 15, 2021 22:27
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I like the cats.
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Feb 15, 2021 23:01
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Voting to train our psychic powers under the tutelage of Psion Catgod Cornstarch. TELL US YOUR CAT BASED MIND POWERS
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Feb 15, 2021 23:29
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A minskin is a hairless munchkin breed, so please picture Dead Cat accordingly. (  )
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Feb 15, 2021 23:43
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 OST: Dreamtide You startle out of your doze when you feel the kitten knead its claws on your chest, and you sit up to pay attention. Each of the nine cats is eating an offering brought to them from the villagers, now awake and refreshed (for another 5 minutes at least) to get out the next part of the story. It's a sad simple matter. The Dreamlands are changing, in a way they have never seen before. The waking of the God, the rise of the Fae in the exodus of the Mythos, the coming of MC&D... with so much carrion left lying around, the new breed of megapredators have grown fat indeed. While Ulthar was still a quiet superpower, they needed to find a way to integrate themselves into the new order without sacrificing their peaceful simplicity. Marshall, Cater, & Dark had stepped in before the advent of war, and arranged for a diplomatic meet of all the powers new and old who needed to know where the uncertainty of the dream stands. MC&D, while the newest power and arrival to the Dreamlands, was clearly the greatest one. They had been monstrously prepared to adapt to the sleeping world, making an immediate financial alliance with the decadent Fae, who became eternal customers of the rich and powerful. Together, they had modernized the dream inside of a dream-millennium. They sell weapons. They sell land. They sell slaves. They sell dreams, repackaged and ground down for easy consumption. They sell all things anomalous, collecting anything and everything of interest that crosses over and can be made profitable to the desperate of the new world. Now they were selling an agreement of peace, if only to lay cards on the table and know who to buy, and who to sell. Ulthar has no intention of being either.  So they need you to accompany them to the moot, and be the speaking face for the town. You ask why exactly you are the one they picked, but the answer is cat-like noncommittal: you were chosen because you are not engaged in the politics of the dream, have the Good Smell, and expressed the proper nature with your use of the golden string. You'd be nervous and ask more, but such was the nature of dream and cat- you accept it and stand up. It's been three days down by the summer lake, and you're ready to begin the weeks-long journey. You set out when the sky begins to darken, revealing the myriad stars and the wide swathes of loss cut through them. It was too dangerous to go to Dylath-Leen, since the roads were already suffocating with assassins waiting to prey on every being of power who was traveling to Euamur. Instead it'd be an east march across Mount Lerion, and then a journey by hidden boat waiting on the coastline of the Middle Ocean. The mountains loom over you as you pass through them, and the hackles on the back of your neck rise, the smallest kiss of nightmare making itself known in the back of your memory. DREAMING: [ ~ ][ ~ ][ ~ ][40%] But the ten cats prove to be formidable company. They have been saving energy for this long journey for years now, calling upon their reserves to make a trek few would expect out of such a sleepy creature. Their mastery of the dream is made obvious. Party Log posted:The Cat What Swims In The Ground [Lv.99] has joined your party!  More than once you're ambushed, and it always ends poorly for the fool who thinks to jump a lone wanderer and their contingent of cats. Much more often you are the one ambushing, as the cats keep their energy high with a constant indulgence of their murderous intent, hunting small game or large offenders. You're happy to leave the mountains behind, making quick time across the plains and over the river before you work down the coast to a small fishing shack. Outside there is a very old man, ocean-weathered lean and smiling mute as he offers each of the cats a flensed offering of fish flesh. He leans down to examine 9th, petting her and looking with satisfaction at the mummified tongue she wears around her neck. Once the cats have had their fill, you are given a gift of some fresh raw fish to snack on while a long and narrow ship is dragged out from the sand. Multiple other pieces are dragged out, connecting them together with steady expertise, until a strange sailing vessel of stacked narrow lengths is waiting in the water. The cats all stand in their favored positions- the Cat What Swims hoists himself out from his swim in the sand, and sinks into a box where he can observe with two eyes and ears peeking out from the wood. The old man gestures for your to stand in the centerweight of the ship, before he pushes it out into the waters. Sailing is uneasy. Stinky takes to the waters, wading through their warmth with ease as she gently bends the currents to carry you over the Middle Ocean's distance, to the hidden heart where Euamur waits. The cats remain constant in vigilance this close to the water and their destination, aware of the dangers the dreaming oceans present. But the reality is that you're accompanied by some of the most powerful felines in dream and waking, affording you unprecedented peace. Your job was not to hero for them, but to pet them and listen to their counsel so they could achieve their safety at the moot. But when the sky goes black and the ocean turns gray, you feel your dreaming mind grow heavy with stress as you're forced to exercise your willpower - a dream greater than your sleeping mind is descending in a cloud, and it demands you show your lucidity to walk it.  (!Dreaming)(WL-10 Default!) 9 - [3]+[4]+[1] = 8 - Success! You stand tall on the boat, and focus your thoughts. You remember walking the dream in your last life. You reach out to that sensation, bringing it full loop under the iron of your will, binding you as a being who belongs in the greater dream, is natural to it. The cats mewl their appreciation of your ability to walk the dream without their aid, giving them confidence in having chose you. With your acceptance, the blackness lifts, just enough to reveal you're inside of an immense ocean cavern. Its walls are overgrown with strange-colored ferns and shimmering moss, revealing the intrusive shape of sleek metal platforms and magitech installations. One of the installations begins to shine a prism light down on your ship, before it shades to the jade of Mana, and lowers a dock for Stinky to boat you into. You're greeted by an unusual sight. A sylvan stands with her back to you, dressed in a simple blue dress uniform. Next to her is a large and decorative wooden case, wreathed with magic plants. She bows to you and the cats, with her back still to you, and speaks with one of the unique accents of the Dreamlands. "Esteemed, expected, punctual and perfected; welcome all you of royal lineage, welcome all from the Kingdom Ulthar, to the Euamur Moot. Courtesy of Marshall, Carter, and Dark, we have provided concealment for all identities. We respect the strength of Ulthar and your denial of a need for mask, but understand that your chosen ambassador will need one. We have prepared a selection, and ask that you please mask up, ambassador." Always, always with her back to you, the sylvan steps neatly to the side to open the case and turn it in presentation to you. Three masks rest inside, and with it comes a sign-in sheet for your title... now was your moment to choose and change, for the sake of the itty bitty pretty kitt- for the graceful Council of Ulthar. What mask will you wear? What epithet will you write?
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Feb 17, 2021 04:38
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I mean, we're the Black Crow, obviously. But also, we're Nobody, for names have power and we are but a humble intermediary and functionary.
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Feb 17, 2021 04:59
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This is extremely important for clarity: This is not a Name. This is only an epithet. A title.
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Feb 17, 2021 05:01
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Hostile V posted:I mean, we're the Black Crow, obviously. But also, we're Nobody, for names have power and we are but a humble intermediary and functionary. Agreed on both counts, even with the clarification. Might give us the chance to Odysseus our way out of some poo poo, who knows? Plus I think it serves to emphasize our role - we're just here in aid of the cats. And while we don't want to make ourselves too obvious, I like leaning into the Black Crow theming. We had a serious success at the Camp that led to some solid glimpses of a better reality, after all.
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Feb 17, 2021 06:51
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Princey posted:Agreed on both counts, even with the clarification. Might give us the chance to Odysseus our way out of some poo poo, who knows? Plus I think it serves to emphasize our role - we're just here in aid of the cats. And while we don't want to make ourselves too obvious, I like leaning into the Black Crow theming. We had a serious success at the Camp that led to some solid glimpses of a better reality, after all. Black Crow I agree with but the whole 'Nobody' thing is a little too cliche and seems like something that others might have heard of plus makes us look less trust worthy... The Singer is a better bet imo, it doesn't concretely link anything to us in a way that could come back to bite us and doesn't sound overly aggressive or self important or like we're mocking anyone we might have to negotiate with.
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Feb 17, 2021 07:02
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hahaha what the hell are those titles, sign me up to be xXxsephiroth9000xXx.
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Feb 17, 2021 07:54
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Heh. Guess the 9th cat got the old fellows tongue, eh? Wonder what the story there is.
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Feb 17, 2021 11:18
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I went with The Singer. MC&D are affiliated with the Fae, if we say we're Nobody, they may make us match our title. And we know that we can sing. While we ARE the Tyrant, we also know that there are bigger, badder Tyrants out there, and we are being subservient to the cats (need to pet kitty more).
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Feb 17, 2021 12:22
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I went with The Singer as well. It matches who we want to be, and while it is only a title and not a Name, I think how we think of ourselves will matter here.
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Feb 17, 2021 14:10
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VOTING CLOSED - How Will You Hide? A silver wolf mask - 3 An obsidian crow mask - 27 A gold hyena mask - 3 The Tyrant - 5 MURDERKILL 9000 - 2 The Singer - 12 One-Winged Hussar - 0 The Dark Lord - 0 Ignatz - 1 The Hotdog Champ - 4 Nobody - 9 LOADING....  ...LOADING
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Feb 17, 2021 17:39
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Well, we know of another singer. The Singer of Cadanza. They seem to have some history with Merkja and Deimos (I suspect his "Singer-gifted karmic psionics" might come from this character), so I'd assume they're known to the Fae and MC&D as well. We also know they might be an Eidolon with a corresponding Lord as per the Blue Book, although the wording of that passage was pretty confusing. Maybe Burner? Since Deimos' psychic techniques are described as being "carnelian". Grond fucked around with this message at 18:04 on Feb 17, 2021 |
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Feb 17, 2021 17:58
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