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The only way to beat the lovecraftian eldritch horrors is to throw a constant stream of bodies at them until they literally choke to death on the corpses! It... it takes a lot to fill up Azathoth.
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Oct 18, 2022 21:44
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| # ? Jun 5, 2024 23:54 |
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I wonder if we'll ever be in a position where we make a choice we know will backfire in our End thanks to BB knowledge because Heaven End will be better as a result. We'd need more BB entries from their world to have that possibility, I think.
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Oct 19, 2022 03:16
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It seems more and more our character and their actions are bleeding over into the heaven end. I wonder how it's going to affect things... Are they ever going to be more than a shadow to others? Hell, for all I know, the more connections they make to people in general (the wanderers, the Backup, etc) may make them into more of a person.
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Oct 19, 2022 03:34
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ANXIETY: [ X ][ X ][ X ][ X ][50%] Avoid the eyes. Run. Body is going to snap apart into little bonemeal shards. Will alone still animating you as if nothing had happened. Fleshpain is what she wants, after all. If you're not in suffering inside every second of your walk to Lordslay, then she'll know. She'll make you pay tithe. So your shield goes up and gun aims out, blood-slopped shoes squishing as they race you over the grassy opens. There's patches of pure midnight forming, where you can easily escape the prying eyes of the pursuing shapes, your darksight superior allowing just enough to let you limp-leap over juts of rock and root. The sky is still fighting to achieve peak, sickly light gathering in the black divine clouds like the swells of an ocean. Each downpour of bright is more fierce than the last, and it becomes a violent trick of slamming shut one eye to save it from the blind of the photon bursts. You don't even know where you're going, wounded animal mad with the need to escape predation and find succor within a hide. But your shadow is deep with doom, and that gravity drags you ever down.  HP: [ -24 / 25 ] [Near Death!] FP: [ 3.5 / 15 ] [Near Exhaustion!] Seven miles into the run you stop, lungs bubbling fire, having ascended a high hill that brings you out of sight. You stop to bite your shirt, cleaned skin rubbed raw from the frantic motions, marrow scorching as it desperately tries to create blood to replace the massive loss that your violation of gravity cost. You shake hard and hock up rat water, delirious from the mushroom's soothing spores drying up to leave you with a comedown that will end your life if you don't get back up and start moving. A crown is speaking clearly now, no longer confused by rainbow, its density midnight dragging you to your feet so you can adjust your teal cap and begin the charge again. But it stops after only four steps, as a cascade of wolves comes raging over the hillside. You go deathstill and aim gun, but... they ignore you. Rush past without so much an acknowledging growl. Huh? You follow their path and realize they're racing onward to an opening near what looks to be a broken road. You fight to see their goal - in a circular where the road is mostly missing, you catch sight of a mess that churns up your guts, the sore Silver Mind seeing psychic motions.  How many? Three. Adrenaline fires the neurons into sensory overload, with sight having been so simplified - third eye is clarity-wide. Look at the motions of the first one; she's approaching with the wardancer's hips one-two, feet stepping with powerful assurance. She's harpy Paradise, glamorous tall. Shrouded in seven silks rainbow with the Pure Lands. Hair midnight long, curling about her in tandem. Wings? Of course, a harpy- SEVEN wings, though? Oh yes. Seven mighty arching slamming jutting rainbow wings. She's Backup, she's Mana Calx. She's moving to kill someone.  But there's two more. Who else dares? Strange little, moving with hops and rolls, downluck in posture, bulked-dressed in a straw camouflage coat, an enormous slope-hat hiding their everything. They're throwing straws, draw after draw, keeping distance and waiting for the right moment to pull whatever hides under their scarecrow armor. They're Backup, they're Short Straw. They're moving to kill someone.  But there's one more. What else walks? Bright against the night, body lean dripping with pale green neon paints. He's dangerous angular, sharp and bare, with a great mane of glowbright hair. He walks animal lynx, and everywhere his hands and feet touch the colors desaturates. He's stalking, circling, steelspring tense and ready, playful with sadism. He's Backup, he's Pastel Hell. He's moving to kill someone. But who? You know - King Claw Blue. The wolves are moving to save him, and you watch the bandaged man prove why he's one of Kaigen's Three. The doctor is badly wounded and clearly in an attempt of retaliatory escape, a sharpened wrench clutched in his one unbroken hand. He whipsaws up from his kneeling wait, and runs circular to smash the instrument across the face of all circling cultists; the tall Calx catches a slice across her paradisical face, the small Straw gets a nasty crack over their broad hat, and the colorful Pastel tears back just enough to only let it clip the nose, a splash of darkest green visible against the glowing paints. They're... going to kill. There's going to be a kill! The doctor who mended you, but, but the Backup you promised for! You're limping down the hill, grunting and growling too softly to be heard over the din of the dogpack that's ready to take King call and go for the throats. The Backup circle around with aware of their being cornered, a tense standoff of growls, howls, barks, curses, taunts. You waver in and out of awareness as you fight to keep awake, forcing your brain to assess what could be done to find the right intention. ANXIETY: [ X ][ X ][ X ][ X ][ X ][60%] [I GOTTA DO SOMETHING!!] You have to decide what wave function to collapse towards. [Voting ends later this evening.]
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Oct 21, 2022 19:33
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Still early, but so far, Lionhearted is winning, and our MC is nothing, if not stupidly brave at times. The Darkness option seems like a trap based on -HP, and I like both sides.... The ticket one seems like a decent option too but I also wonder if we shouldn't keep that in our back pocket for a better opportunity.
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Oct 21, 2022 20:24
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VOTING CLOSED - Everyone's My Friend, Everyone's An Enemy [Lionheart] Move in to fight and defend both sides to standstill. - 11 Side with Pariah. - 0 Side with the three Backup. - 0 Fire your gun to get their attention, and show the Ticket to Paradise. [-1 Bullet] - 1 Force them to kneel and stop with your intent. [!Darkness Check 20] [-HP] - 2 LOADING...  ...LOADING
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Oct 22, 2022 01:00
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ANXIETY: [ X ][ X ][ X ][ X ][ X ][60%] You can't let this happen! It's your responsibility now, you made a promise and you owe a debt, so you have to make it stop! You're limping after the wolves, trying to raise your voice to a haunting cry; you can only manage a dry cough-up of red and spit, and you know drawing your gun will see someone's life done. So it's shield, and then it's sword, concrete flashing gold in the daydark. Why? The crown is asking you, why. Why are you risking your life for the sake of enemy upon enemy? Why does your heart cry emerald?  The Silver Mind | King Claw Blue posted:What did he see? The hypertensitive of his eyes, moving too close to the lunatic level. Flashing back and forth between three, mighty three, moving with that tremendous wishlight. The harpy who danced with all the spectrums of Mana, each wing crushing flesh off in strips. The terrible-lean painted boy, his hand ripping away chroma to leave scalding cold gray. The little one hop-skipping a circle, drawing straws to slink out that little edge over his Kingly motions. He didn't ask violence, but he was in trespass, as Kaigen had been told two time and ten; the trespass had escalated since the Emperor stormed back from the beach in a trance of holy mad. Pariah had abandoned his walks to collect all the wolves he could, leading them out of the war-runs of his Emperor until he could make sense of his refound violence. It was heresy, but he was a doctor, before he was crowned by Kaigen. He had to stop harm. It was escalating every day, bodies accumulating with no victory to show for it. MC&D had seen losses but not a single cultist had fallen, their aggressions quickened by the death of one of their own; they didn't blame the Emperor or his army, knowing them too weak and distracted to achieve such a slay, but they still wanted to take it out on someone. It was their way- take it out, take it anywhere but kept inside. ҉ ҉ ҉ A Third posted:Do you understand? Mana Calx raises her leg to the lightworn sky, spinning to then arch her entire body to spear all seven wings with the intention of a lazy-thrown execution, cleanly shredding the Werewolf King's head away. (Mana Calx - Sevenwing) 15(-5) [3]+[2]+[6] = 11 - Success? But she stumbles back and loses her eternal balance, falling clumsy to the ground for the first time since she claimed to cult with the blessings of the rainbow black. The massive dancer simply slumps stunned, her hollow bones ringing with something holy as she sees a shadow, false gold gleaming, a shield bell-ringing from where the deathblow glanced. There's someone screaming. There's motion fury, as the straw-coat cultist pulls a small tan gun, wrenching it into click-place before taking unsteady fire; a straw is drawn, and a bullet pops out. (Short Straw - Smallshot) 12(-5) [2]+[4]+[1] = 7 - Success. 「Avi’s Question」 They're aiming for the King but there's something in the way; though the bullet seems to strike true, it just passes right through. The last one, could he see? His paint coloring the ground neonlit, dripping from him in fresh wet. He curls his hand to lash out and grab at whatever has interjected- is it a wolf? No. It moves animal, but holds slaying tools. It has to be harmed, but what color can be burned away on such a low saturation? Pastel races over the ground with lion's gait, leaping to grab around the shield and touch body. (Pastel Hell - Colourburn) 18(-5) [2]+[1]+[5] = 8 - Success. [Low Saturation... only took 3 damage! But that's enough for you to start-] HP: [ -27 / 25 ] [DYING!] FP: [ 6.5 / 15 ] (HT - The heart must thunder on.) 15 [2]+[1]+[6] = 9 - Success... The hand grabs precious little chroma, and it's burned away with a heatless pain. He finishes with a tumbled tuck, finding that they've been corralled- they stand three, wolves at their back, the King before them, who now stares confused as a shadow stalks back and forth, smashing sword to shield and screaming at everything that makes too sudden a movement. He could see, now. He can see- ANXIETY: [ ! ][ ! ][ ! ][ ! ][ ! ][ ! ][70%] You. You're screaming at them. The wolves, the Backup, the King- stop. Just stop. Stop it. No more. Stop. I... (TYRANT MANIFEST) 20(-7) [1]+[3]+[5] = 9 - Success.  I SAID STOP. TYRANNY: [ X ][ X ][ X ][ X ][ X ][ X ][70%] I raise shield, and lower sword. Why? I oppose this. I should just kill them all while they stand stunned, secure my absolute safety! But no, no, that isn't- my intent is to keep a PROMISE. A promise I am strong enough to fulfill while satisfying Śmiercią, while walking to conquest! Isn't that real strength? To be able to decide what lives and what dies. So I look back at Pariah and scream, CUT IT OUT, I look over at the Backup and shout, STOP HURTING HIM, I stare at the growling wolves with exhaustion burning my eyes as I bawl, KNOCK IT OFF!  The wolves go quiet. The Backup refuse riot. Pariah is silent. I gasp, heaving for air in my bloody-bubble lungs, already delirious from my crown having come crashing down. I limp and jerk, sword and shield rattling, sending the Backup one step away as they assess me. I try to focus on them through the dark, my shield always between Pariah and the one with the gun, my sword lying low in wait for the sevenkill wings and the terrible touch of the glowpaint boy. His hand, it tore color itself away from my skin! Just gray sullen cold where his palm touched. The tall dance-dressed one, she moves with so much Mana it makes her feathers shine rainbow; no magic provocation is wise here. The little one... they have a gun, and that's threat enough to be done. I have to think of a save. I have to get out of this! I loathe a further burn of my wounded blood, but my tyranny demands it to survive; there is no better time than now with my parasite so sleepy-sated on its shark-watered supply, allowing me to expend my vitae without its distracting cries. Now think... no, harder. Think. With more speed, more clarity! THINK. Through the blood-scald haze, pour it all over my wounded brain and THINK. 「Vehemence」 [-24 HP = +6 IQ] (IQ - Think...) 10(+6) [1]+[3]+[5] = 12 - Success [By 4]. HP: [ -51 / 25 ] [DYING!] FP: [ 5.5 / 15 ] (HT - The heart WILL keep beating.) 15 [6]+[3]+[1] = 9 - Success. The pain is real. I hold onto my sword and shield purely from the seizure I induce to lock my hands shut, blood simultaneously flowing to my crown and then evaporating into royal blue watery Mana, soothing my neurons with a magic buoyance, even as my skull tries to split open to force out my screaming brains. I stand drooling and snarling, eyes twitching obscene, barking incoherence before it finally settles just long enough for me to stand tall and look directly up to the sky. No, I get it. I see the way out. I see my deathchance. I roll my head back down to stare, feeling the air out. It's here; the moment my vehement demand gave me, and I have to act on it. So I raise and throwdown my sword into the ground before Pariah, and then grab-pull out what I stole from MC&D, as is my right- a baroque vial filled with an unspoken colour, its brilliance casting the dark landscape into a terrible starshow. All three Backup are a little stunned, buying me my first second. I need more. I start to scream, inhaling as deep as my enchanted lungs can manage before I force my blood-caked throat to screech it out. I'm taking this to Paprika Blue! You're ruining my walk of return to her! She's waited long enough! Go away- the wolf doesn't die today! Go! GO AWAY. Of course, this isn't going to stop them. But it is going to buy seconds. More are stolen when they struggle to understand my slow, enunciated screams. Another second when they realize they heard Paprika's name. Another, just one more vital second bought, as they put together that I'm going to deliver it to her. Yet another second- see it? It just passed, and they're still hesitant, because I TOLD them the wolf doesn't die today! They can't act before they process, just a second more- and I bought it! I bought my slayless exit! It begins when the glowpaint boy glitters over the grass, because the Silver Mind told me he's impatient and realizes that this colour I hold is much too strong to be loving around in the hands of some low-chroma banshee; YES. This is my intent. Run right to me. Run, and ignore that the sky above has been splitting. Don't look up, let the impossible palette draw your every rod and cone. Don't realize how bright it's become, daytime again, as the light bleeds to bursting overflow out of the Heavens. They all rush right into the spray split. I accept what's going to happen, deathchance; I can feel my damnation cower from the relentless downpour of photons. I act in the second allowed, flinging Red's saving grace over me, stepping to the side with psychic ice as the little one fires their gun and I give Avi the answer once again. The shield goes up to cover Pariah as I grab him. I focus with everything my dying body will allow. I have to act, and it's going to be twice. (PSI Psychic Shield) 11 [2]+[6]+[4] = 12 - Failure! (PSI Clouding ɑ) 13 [6]+[3]+[4] = 13 - Success! But it's too soon after Doubler for my burning brain to accept the terror of twofold thoughts. So I abandon the manifest of a diverting shield to catch the spraysplit, and instead let light and agony take me into the mental cloud I need to hide myself and the doctor. I'm grabbing him, pulling, clouding us as we're all blinded... and I finally feel the horror of poisoned light cutting through me, a shower of hot knives.  Divine Weather posted:The spray split strikes you dead on! HP: [ -68 / 25 ] [Near Death!] [Blind!] [Stunned!] [Clouded!] FP: [ 3.5 / 15 ] (WL - Keep Walking) 20(-?) [1]+[5]+[5] = 11 - Success? ̢ ̸̷̸͘͞ ̶̧̢̛͘͠͠͏҉ ̷͜͠ ̡̛͠҉̷̸̵̛̀͡ ̴́͏͢͞͠҉̵̨ ͏̨ ̴̴̴̀́͞҉ ͏҉̸̢͘ ̢̛̛̛̀́͜R̷̡҉ienne steps up to Pariah, and squats down. "Hello." Pariah slows his stitching. This close, Rienne could hear the cold snake-like hiss of silver on a werewolf's flesh, as she watches the doctor slowly dig bits of it out of his bullet wound. Sweating through his bloody bandages, he comments "You smell different than before, Rienne." He had been there, that night. When Gandivá̷̷̡̢́͘͜͡͡͡͝ ̸̢̧̨͡͠ ̴̴̵̧̧̢̀͟ ̵̴̛́͘s̡͢t̷̴̢̧̛́͢͡͞i̴̶͏͡͏̢͞͞tches faster, breathing controlled as much as possible. Over the distance, Heartbreaker asks Lumes and Levity, "...what's she doing? This how you took out the other Kin̶҉̨g͝?͞"̨̧ ̶ ͏͡ ̶̡͢ ҉̴̀ ̧ ̸̸̀ ̕͡͞ ̵͡ ͝ ̷͢ ̧́͝ ̸͏ ̶́ ̴̛͞ ̕͝͏ ̨ ̴͞ ̴̷̢ ̶͞ ͟ ̀͢͡ ̢ ̵̕͡ ҉͢҉ ̡̕͢ ̸͟ ̛͢ ̴̨̛ ̶̢ ̧͜ ́͏̕ ̴ ͟ ̴̢͘ ͢ ̴ ͘Ŗ͝į͝ȩnne tell him, "Valuable to me, if not to them. Would you surrender to me personally?" Pariah is quiet as he concentrates on getting the biggest bit of bullet out. Clinking it down to watch it shimmer in the Sun, he tells the Emperor of Heave҉҉҉҉Dancer laughs so hard she almost starts crying. "I've missed you guys so much!"  I'm waking up, passing through a dream.
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Oct 26, 2022 18:37
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Oh. Hi Blue.
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Oct 26, 2022 19:05
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You're asleep. I'm awake. They're dreaming. Oh Kaigen, oh Kaigen, oh Kaigen, oh hail. - 2 Masterful. Chummy. Dignified.- 6 Christ. I don't know if I can do this. - 11 Sky Alone Searching. - 8 DREAMING...  ...DREAMING
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Oct 27, 2022 06:38
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Black August posted:(TYRANT MANIFEST) 20(-7) [1]+[3]+[5] = 9 - Success. 
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Oct 27, 2022 12:14
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So what were we voting on? I assume those vote corresponded to people but I wasn't sure who those people were.
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Oct 27, 2022 13:18
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Marluxia posted:So what were we voting on? I assume those vote corresponded to people but I wasn't sure who those people were. My guesses Oh Kaigen, oh Kaigen, oh Kaigen, oh hail. - obvious Masterful. Chummy. Dignified.- Our old toothy chum, Lord Sauber OR cats, maybe both. Christ. I don't know if I can do this. - McD? Sky Alone Searching. - literally no idea
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Oct 27, 2022 14:08
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Sky Alone Searching sounds like Hunter, which... may be the worst idea considering how our last encounter with her ended.
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Oct 27, 2022 14:20
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quote:Masterful. Chummy. Dignified. maybe our skeleton king pal(?) from between spaces, or however that went.
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Oct 27, 2022 19:30
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Randalor posted:Sky Alone Searching sounds like Hunter, which... may be the worst idea considering how our last encounter with her ended. my bet's more on what's-her-face-storm-lord however i'm *intrigued* by that last loading page that page has *implications* and iirc hunter's the only one who's referred to us as "tyrant-child" so far (to clarify: idk that the implications are *good* just *intriguing*)
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Oct 27, 2022 23:29
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  She Was Always So Patient posted:The celestine witch finished her third sableade in as many minutes, coughing on the sour ripping up her throat. It was a good pain to have for the talk. "I don't. Christ help me, I don't know if I can stop feeling hosed up about this." She wiped down her grapestain gown, staring at the shimmering gemlit sky. The Farmer was her usual stodgily quiet self, sitting with Bella while she rested from the check-harvest of the grapes. Even though Home's flora now blossomed in patterns well outside the sense of seasons, the Farmer had no problem adapting.
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Oct 28, 2022 00:27
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well that sure is a different game
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Oct 28, 2022 02:02
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furcifer? furry lucifer? lucifer but a cat?
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Oct 28, 2022 09:17
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Regallion posted:furcifer? furry lucifer? lucifer but a cat? I think we are safe from catgirl lucifer here. No maid outfit in the armor slot. (this is a joke from the cataclysm dark days ahead LP)
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Oct 28, 2022 09:33
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Regallion posted:furcifer? furry lucifer? lucifer but a cat? Lucifur was right there
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Oct 28, 2022 11:46
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I wake, screaming, hand reaching for gun. But it's not there- it's not there. Brain on fire. Can't think coherent, just nerve impulse, only emotion-melt. Screaming. I'm too weak to move- restraints?! Screaming, and a vocal chord splits blood. My lungs vomit weak bubbly grime. I can't be like this. I can't be back here again. HP: [ -74 / 25 ] [DYING!] [Bleeding!!] [Damaged Vision!] FP: [ 1.5 / 15 ] [Pass-Out Risk!] I went too far. My body is giving up. The parasite is weeping in my slowed heart, desperate to fight off the chill. I'm bleeding too much, flesh cold and jellied. Too much. The beach, it was all too much too much too quick. From the moment I ran down the hill to escape the Congregation, I was set on path to expend too too too much of my all, in too little a time. The massive demands of my tyranny, the disrespect to my body, the adrenaline violence and rat-drown silence, finished with a cleaving light that still sears my skin. I'm going to die, and my brain is too hosed up from the massive blood-flow-and-burn I put it through to stop it. I'm screaming, awake, dying. Alone, and- The Silver Mind posted:Holly smiled. Her expression was all-encompassing, the warm-color medical room massive with her presence. You're talking to her about something that's very difficult for you. About a period of your past life that won't stop haunting. She's listening to you about gray streets; about an infinite black mountain on the horizon; about bullet after bullet creating the hatred of physics inside the body; about how those bodies would drop dying dying dying dying. Screaming. How you did what you could, how, how I did everything I could but I just didn't know how to do it right and I need to beg Holly to tell me, tell me how to do it right, just show me, like when the bullets are sixfold up and down the sides, IS there a chance, is there a way to overcome that? "-they're not to hold you down." I can't scream. Not enough blood left. I struggle slow, and then there's a face, wrapped in bandages smeared with wet grass and fresh blood, there's a lazy eye and then a hand is holding mine and it's warm, and the voice is in my ear. "They're so you don't move and hurt yourself. You're awake. Stay with me awake. I'm going to do everything I can. You saved me, I save you. Stay awake! Look at me!" I am. I am. TYRANNY: [1%] I'm still here, strapped to a stretcher, hidden under bush and tree, the sky still pitch black and light-bleeding. My heart still barely beating. I can't save myself. I'm too weak to even feel disgust. I'm crying delirious, his hand keeping my head from rolling back into dream. I'm looking at him and forgetting what visual information even means, but then he snaps his fingers and motions. What? Something approaches, and the deathfear surges me awake again. A wolf! A great wolf, stalking towards me! I seethe and wheeze, ready for the jaws of mercy. But the doctor won't let me look away as I see the slow motion of the wolf simply wagging its tail, sitting patient near me and the King. I keep my eyes on it, fighting the panic. Pariah's ploy works- I stay awake and keep aware while he guides me with simple sentences. "You're dying. I'll mend you. Trust me. Like last time, remember?"  Like last- Please, no, not like last time- I can't let it come upon me, I, please, please I'm so scared and I can't- (Disquiet) 10 [2]+[1]+[1] = 4 - Critical Success!! ANXIETY: [_] TYRANNY: [_]  ~ Thursday. 2:00pm. The Twenty-Sixth Day. You found beauty in Hell. ~ I'm crying, and a warm medical blanket is draped over me. I'm helpless, and the wolf lies down to lean its head on my grasping hand. Soothing cold cloth is pressed to my burning forehead. It's so dark, but the spray splits have warmed the land and sent great winds, carrying glittering waves of photons as brief starstorms over the sky. His voice isn't... it's not kind, because it knows I don't want to hear that. I want to hear reassurance, to hear truth. He's telling me I'm going to live. He says he's sorry for what he has to do. But I've accepted it, sunk low into this place neither you nor I know, a world so black lit by golden glow. It's okay... it's going to be okay. We're going to live. Pariah takes out his tools. The scalpel, of that strange dull brown metal, eversharp. His hands are quick and reassuring, apologizing as jacket is removed. He's stitching. He's bandagin'. Stop the bleeding. Is it my turn, to be attended on the cold gray street? Is Kadath there again, looming its million-mile tall above the all of the world? The rat wounds are fixed. Where I was almost popped open. The burns and shreds. The cleaning, cleaning, cleaning. Pre-sterelized. Ointments and careful placements. A needle soft-push to arm, and fluids begin to feed me from his field kit. But he's still apologizing. Why? He's doing so well. But he says the diagnosis is true- "You're not going to survive. Too much skin gone, muscle exposed, steady mass hemorrhaging, wildly depleted nutrients, magic dysfunction interacting with all this alchemy in your system, a wound near the heart- I need to do this. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm taking this risk, but I cannot let you die. ...I know this will work, because it was you, wasn't it? You're why the Emperor has gone to walk mad holy." He's not mad. He's not happy. He just nods and knows, and I can't see the silver clearly enough to tell what his emotions hide outside of sadness. He opens a heavy metal box, stringing out a long complex of tubes, needles, wires, crystals, and tiny plate-engines. I can't think. Can't. Brain burned from so much hyperthought. The dim closes in, settling me to a warm wait of my End, but I keep it away because he's still going to do something to help. The box... so many symbols on it... a strange fresh scent making my heart suddenly kickstart. The doctor sees me jerk, and nods. "Yes. It can smell it. I can't take it out, but the parasite can't hurt you either. I still can't understand your health, but I can save it. I'm sorry. Please, please know I have no other way of saving you in time." Oh, the smell... warm, warm blood... God, but it's so red and rich it makes you cry out as your body involuntarily reacts to the parasite's screams of glee. Another meal?! More red, no dead! I can't think. But then, then the doctor tells me so I don't have to. "You need a blood transfusion. I don't have enough by myself. But I have a supply on me, the royal cabinet, for when I'm to act as the chief medical officer for my Emperor and fellow Kings." He squats down, and ushers the wolf to wiggle against me for more body heat. I stare at him dazed, his hands working quick to hook me up to the needle and contraptions, as he hooks one needle into himself, and then carefully arranges the rest of the hoses to connect to three distinct metal tanks; one marked in claw red, one marked in claw yellow, one marked in claw white. "It... yes. This will be enough to stabilize you. Please, please forgive the medical trespass. Please live for my oath. I know you're a predator, and all I beg is you remember that we show each other kindness again. Now relax. This will-" (!Doctor - Pariah Saves.) 19 [2]+[3]+[1] = 6 - Critical Success! *click* The machine comes on. Pariah sits with a gasp as he's drained. The tanks begins to empty themselves; they were built and enchanted, blessed and mindcrafted, to hold the supply at a perfect rich preserve, fresh and violent as though it had been drawn from the live body. It's then that I understand, but fail to do anything to stop it; how could I? This is life inside of me. This is the blood of three Kings and an Emperor, turning dark as my body drinks it up with ferocity, turning it midnight with enslavement to my functions. My heart roars back to bright, the parasite screaming as it goes into a frenzy of drug-addled euphoria, shark water and fourblood holy shocking its palette. I'm left paralyzed as I seize up, heat flooding me with such force that I inhale and then choke, unable to breathe, my life saved only because of the infinite heated bubbling of my lungs. My free hand wrenches to open to Heaven, my eyes bloodshot and unclosing. Then I begin to rise- no. No, I begin to float, my gravity raging from my control as I become untethered, fetal writhing as fight against the biological restore burning me back into the scream of life. I look, to Heaven. I cry for it. I crash to the floor, the tanks empty and Pariah gasping as he eats medicines to help with the mass drain he just underwent. I feel it. I know it. Dark in my veins. Lunar in my heart. HP: [ -75 / 25 ] [+25 HP from Werewolf King Pariah's blood!] HP: [ -50 / 25 ] [+15 HP from Werewolf King Salted-Earth's blood!] HP: [ -35 / 25 ] [+10 HP from Werewolf King Jono's blood!] HP: [ -25 / 25 ] [+50 HP from the Beast's blood... Kaigen's blood.]  HP: [ 25 / 25 ] [I f e e l g r e a t .] There's a flash of blue. I'm standing, and the wolf is licking my hand. There's a flash of red. I'm laughing uncontrollably, and Pariah is shielding his face with his hands. There's a flash of yellow. I'm vomiting so hard that he needs to give me heimlich to force air back in. There's a flash of white. I'm screaming with an overdrive of vigor, driven mad from having gone from death to divine with such speed. Pariah is bloodied, half-dead beaten but alive, and I'm crying as I turn away, the wolf bowing its head. I stumble, body burning with terrible pain, and then begin to stiffly walk my way back to the west so I can go to my hideout. I know why he apologized, now. I think of the moon. I gag when my teeth suddenly grow out of the sockets, bulged sharp. I laugh and think of a hyena crushing bones. I limp, manic to reach my goal of Paprika's mural through the horrific blood-high, Pariah now living safe with his regret. I'm alive. I'm alive. I spot a small little critter rushing through the dry grass, and I grab it and let it die shredded to pieces in my mouth. I spit it out and stare absently at the mauled corpse. It's lying bloodied on broken old pavement. The red deep distinct against the irregular grayblack. I haven't stepped on the road, so I turn to walk parallel to it as it winds me safely towards the Rivergreen. After seven steps, the world briefly shakes in reverberation. I hesitate, but stiff-march on as if nothing is happening, unable to blink. I clutch no weapon, drooling red down my suit. There, another six steps, and the entire ground rumbles with something ultradense impacting, a thundering *THUMB* of weight next to me. I can't ignore it anymore, so I stop and look right up at it.  There's something beyond physical inside the hulking armor, like the living gravity of hate. It walks slow with its malevolence, never facing the void within its helmet away from me. It's so focused, its powerful hate. I can feel it make my fresh fresh fresh fresh blood boil itchymad hot. Oh, it's irresistible, that purity of hate. That resentment of order and structure. Look at that density of blackplate; its absolute invincibility. Flashes of spraysplit reveal it to me in profile; if Nyx wore a tank upon her back, then it was merely a kneecap hinge that was pried from the sheer bunker-like thick of the demon's platemail vessel. I look, I can't blink with the raw poo poo wreaking FIRE in my veins, three crowns and a throne making my heart too powerful to actually explode, despite its best efforts. See? There, on that density ultrablack; the terrible marks of the Iron Saint! Where the holy metal scarred it, all up and down the leg and torso. It's never moved quite as fast as it used to, after it was duel-slain by Merkja's fist. We're sizing each other up; why is it here, when I haven't walked on its territory? Oh, but the hate is listening. That giant is aware. It looks down the road where I was, at the careless corpse of gore and bone and vomit and spit and tears and disrespect I casually spat on its sacred. Another mighty wind of spilled light streaks over, whipping Red's shroud about my now-gripped shield. I see. Yes, I see. I look at the massive standing over me, the pitch hate of midnight pouring down, and I take a moment to reflect on myself in this moment. How am I, truly? Looking up to see the proof, of the enormous highway shield emblazoned with the truth that reads 'Interstate 76'? I'm unwell. I'm mending with the wrath of four royalties. I'm ready to kill. What does my crown weigh? TYRANNY: [ X ][ X ][ X ][ X ][ X ][ X ][ X ][80%] M͠a̶y͏b̀e͏ ͏ás̷ ̡m̕u̡c̷h̛ ͞ąs͠ ̛t͝h̢ę ͞d͘e̷m̴o̕n̛.̷ I should control myself. But my blood. (WL - Don't.) 20(-10) [5]+[3]+[5] = 13 - Failure. I smile. I draw my sword. I don't break eye contact as I strike the road in front of the Interstate 76 Moloch.  (HOLY) 10 [2]+[3]+[3] = 7 - FALSE HOLY Neither of us expect it. The showerspark of tourmaline on the weary black pavement. The grand golden gloam. The bellring sound. I don't blink, but the scent of something tropic and the glitterheat- the giant steps back, once. I keep my arm full extended, shaking as I realize exactly what I just made it do. I made it flinch. I made 76 flinch from a sword-scuff of its road. How- but my blood is too mad with might to let me become paralyzed. I'm walking too tall. I fast-shroud my blade, and then casually turn to keep walking parallel, not breaking eye contact still. Minutes without blink. I act the natural intimidation, and I can feel the Duke's infectious laughter at my nape as I think on the inevitable he revealed to me. Did I, really? Does my blade make fear in it? 76 follows. The Silver Mind has been crutching me quiet, gently dragging its net through the relations of Merkja and cultists to form the necessary picture that was the Interstate Moloch. We're walking, and it keeps a little ways behind, never daring to close the distance when I flash my false concrete gold at it. The ultradense destroyer stops after a point, and decides to just stare at me as I spend the next long while quietly vanishing into the woods. (PSI Clouding ɑ) 13 [2]+[3]+[6] = 11 - Success! Fade... fall to all fours. Stalk slow down into the silent SCREAM of the mighty oh sing mighty, of Rivergreen. I'm hyperventilating as I scramble over wet river rock between heavy pebblewood bark. Every shout is in silence. My lungs explode in bubbles, spewed steady onto the soft soil floor. I thrash my head into a running cool river and drink deep, shaking to curl up and spasm as the blood assaults my fried brain. The parasite is overdosed, driven lunar wild, prisoner in my tensing heart as it fights to not be crushed under my involuntary strength. Oh, you poor sweet. Feast. Know you'll never be without with me, but you will end your days begging for me to stop your satiation. I never will. Ever. I casually rip a log in two, throwing it through the trees and to somewhere unknown beyond. I ramble, I leap, I climb. I rage on away up through the paces to my final stop. I missed my dinner date with the couple back at the treehouse, but I can take that check anytime and soon enough. This was necessary to do now to keep my karma from collapse. I need it done before I start to think of more little bodies filled with red to shred; it'll be dark in only a few more hours. My body is going to fully integrate it by then. The Silver Mind is already reserved with its worry over the changes in my organs. But I can conquer it. I can. First I have to resolve this, and then I can overcome my blood. Already I'm near the last ascent to the mural, and I'm changing, blood singing, the parasite supping free, the moon in my mind and royal gunning my heart. ANXIETY: [_] TYRANNY: [ X ][ X ][ X ][ X ][ X ][ X ][ X ][80%] Oh Kingly Three, tell me, tell me, which hue is true of you? Then tell me. Tell me then, what the blood of Beast has done, what mighty I cannot undo. 
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Oct 29, 2022 06:17
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Molten veins is already really good (near-immunity to fire) - if we upgrade it then it might start applying to nuclear as well, or it might become total immunity, and either would be outstanding. That’s my pick. A bubbleblood upgrade could be powerful as well, but we still don’t have much in the way of mitigating fatigue costs, and it might end up giving us part of Pariah’s curse as well. An inevitable upgrade feels like it’s pulling us in a direction I’d rather we not go. For the other choice, +5 strength just seems really really really good. It’s 5 max HP as well, remember, and we can spend that to improve our IQ as needed with vehemence.
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Oct 29, 2022 09:23
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pumpinglemma posted:Molten veins is already really good (near-immunity to fire) - if we upgrade it then it might start applying to nuclear as well, or it might become total immunity, and either would be outstanding. That’s my pick. A bubbleblood upgrade could be powerful as well, but we still don’t have much in the way of mitigating fatigue costs, and it might end up giving us part of Pariah’s curse as well. An inevitable upgrade feels like it’s pulling us in a direction I’d rather we not go. For the other choice, +5 strength just seems really really really good. It’s 5 max HP as well, remember, and we can spend that to improve our IQ as needed with vehemence. I am forced to concur - though i actually thhink much more favorably of bubbleblood as it saved our rear end on multiple occasions. Inevitable is great since intimidation is one of our key skills, but fire is common enough to have an upgrade be worth it. The second choice is kind of a non-choice - we don't want bloodlust and murderous intent upgrades and an upgrade to one sword tech is not as good as a blanket increase to any phys attack we do, and that's not even counting poo poo like heavy lifting and carrying loads.
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Oct 29, 2022 11:14
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Oh, bubbleblood is an absolutely outstanding skill - I just don’t think it’s as good as molten veins, especially when we have nine lives so we can withstand up to nine failed death saves.
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Oct 29, 2022 13:29
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That was a hell of a segment
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Oct 29, 2022 17:47
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Ech. Mild gaff on my part, Inevitable ought to have one less vote than it does. E: got two votes instead of one, to be clear. So ought be at 11 instead of 12, etc. Arcanuse fucked around with this message at 19:43 on Oct 29, 2022 |
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Oct 29, 2022 17:58
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I put a vote on Molten Veins to tie it up with Inevitable.
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Oct 29, 2022 19:08
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I also went for Molten and Monstrous, Lemma's reasoning swayed me.
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Oct 29, 2022 21:11
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VOTING CLOSED - The Head From Which All Crowns Hang Accept King Blood Blue. [Bubbleblood Upgrade] - 13 Accept King Blood Red. [Molten Veins Upgrade] - 17 Accept King Blood Yellow. [Inevitable Upgrade] - 13 Monstrous Strength. [+5 ST] - 23 Emperor-Strong Hews. [Blade Majestueux Upgrade] - 11 Bloodmanic. [Murderous Intent Upgrade] [+Bloodlust] - 6 LOADING...  ...LOADING
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Oct 30, 2022 08:04
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Captain Foo posted:That was a hell of a segment hard-agree; goddamn missed the vote by a bit, probably woulda preferred Inevitable, but v. okay w/ molten veins too. i read Inevitable as also being a "Step. The. gently caress. DOWN." intimidation skill to stay out of a fight by flexing our Intent. similarly w/ upgrading Blade -- knock someone TF down and demand they stay down i wanna like bubbleblood but we'd probs want to do some time developing our magery/IQ a bit more if we wanna make it (and burger magics! a little bit !ESP but IQ's just secondary there) more reliable. of course, given we've been steering p. hard into ST/WL/HT and less into IQ it'd be a very legit thing to just keep doing that ...but ya def get how that might not be something to feed too much more into. we've come a *drat* long way in accepting and integrating all the aspects of ourself but getting a turbo-charge from three of the most powerful predators in the world is a lot to integrate all at once. we've done a good job channeling our murderous intent/bloodlust through our broader Intent and values related to protection but... ya blood from 4 literally-king-poo poo werewolves is a lot lol also: how long's it been since the last time we visited Kwiat? char sheet says 17 days rations but idk when that got updated last
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Oct 30, 2022 14:31
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Oh hey, this is back! Awesome
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Oct 31, 2022 15:28
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My one concern is how we'll react to Kwait now. I would hate for this to turn into a "
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Oct 31, 2022 15:35
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 Not sure what time it is. The forests are cool and quiet. I scream so hard the tree I'm leaning against cracks with a lil' thunderpop. I hack up a lot of bloody bubbles. TYRANNY: [XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX][?%] My body lurches bizarre from muscle spasms I can't control. Something is happening to them. My subscription, screaming, rates through the roof, fire sale now now now now. I punch a tree until my hand explodes, and the blood is still scalding hot so the flesh and bone reforms in seconds. I punch the tree until my hand explodes again. One more time- Rivercry. Screaming as the tree crashes down. I control myself just enough to remember to not bite and rip off an entire strip of my own arm-meat. Mmmmm. I smash my fist into another tree. I tumble to all fours again. I catch the motion of some stealthfaint animal with silvered eyes, and I grab a rock and fling it so hard it blows open boulder jutting from the waters. I look at my gloamed sword and kiss it, thanking its gilding for letting me escape that horrible giant. I'm so loving scared but I can't feel it right now, because I was crowned blue, crowned red, crowned yellow, and oh spare spare spare spare I was Enthroned Empire. I punch a tree over and over until my arm dislocates and I feel absolutely nothing but an incredible high- oh of course! The doctor drugged me! Not just with the blood, royal royal royal ROYAL; there's good ol' sillydrugs in there too! It brings me back. Remember remember? The mushrooms kept talking about it before, but, there was simply too much Slay and Social to hear it. But right now with the immediate danger gone, driven lungpuke-crazy with blood, doped to the gills, I remember! How they really loved to drug us. They were experimenting on all the soldiers after the war ended, oh to help to help to help to help, ohhh no really it was to test to test to test to test. Soldiers good for the control, since the damage was worse when you'd been at the front to see how it all went down first first first first. Lotta drugs. Lotta brains all over around. Can't die, so drug a drug a drug a drug, never was really safe for anyone but nobody could die so why ask why just take it to forget it. My gravity screams and throws the thought away, far in the beyond the back of my black. I puke again, more bubbles this time, my lungs going insane from the parasite dance and the muscle-tensions that make me pull up entire root systems and shred them with my bonecrush jaws and throw them away while I scream, oh I scream. Then I laugh, as I drop to all four and rampage through a river shallow, inhaling bubble-deep red to cry it out over and over in mockery- Kaigen! Hail! Kaigen! Hail! Kaigen! Hail! Kaigen! Hail! Hahahaha! I smash my head into a tree over and over and over and over. Absolutely no harm. Just laughs as I repeat it, oh I hail, oh mighty, oh Kaigen, oh Emperor, oh hail. I smash the tree over and every repeat of the mantra is malice and a promise to do something loving horrible when I see him again. I'm going to eat his heart and make a stew of his bones to feed my chicken darling. I'll smash his eyes into a gentle jelly, and sell it Ol' Napp. I'll pinch his spine until he's paralyzed, and watch him flashdance on the floor in front of his weeping army. I don't even really know or care about that stupid lovely ogre! But he just keeps making things so inconvenient, and let's be honest I just want to see how tasty ogreflesh REALLY is! They say it's such fine eating! Hahahaha, has, has that ever happened, Duke Sauber? Has, the Hero, has one ever EATEN the final boss, alive and screaming? I mean sheesh that'd sure send a message to stop trying anything stupid, wouldn't it?! I fall over and start to cry in earnest, the agonizing cramps making my muscles tension so hard my jaw snaps apart, teeth shattering, unable to scream for all the bubbles gushing past my open-broken maw. Then everything heals. Regrows. Reforms. Muscles shred themselves in a frenzy of blood, little cords snapping music, then tying back together in insane braided shapes of secret strength. My guts empty themselves in constant contraction, my fingers shatter over and over from involuntary smash-clawing, my body heats to hundreds of degrees, and I become a nightmare of blurring movement. Psychic lashes whip out and murder entire insect colonies like gamma ray bursts of psychotic emotion, my Mana fluxing in fresh from the ambient woods with such force that a mass cloud of jade vapor rains around me through the dark pebblebark trees. The angular leaves blade-bend to sup on the dew, and I keep jaunting in a shamblejog that turns into a ridiculous all-fours and then into an ape-lope and back once more to that madness walk,  That boogeyman shuffle. When I scale the last of the mural hills I stand up straight, so hard my spinal discs crack, sending me limp to fall over and tumble down a hill, smashing apart before I hit a ravine. I lie there contorted broken, giggling as water bubbles in my lungs, body forcing itself back into shape as the muscle-braiding continues. I'm growing a little more lean as they retie into more efficient shapes, my bones violent in the restructure. The parasite is screaming now too, unable to stop its sanity-threatening superhigh from all this incredible blood. I hold my shattered body and smile as I cradle over my heart. Poor little greedy shitbrain parasite; Biology Is Hell. I crawl up the immense slope with incredible slow, but I find that I'm just so loving strong that all I have to do is remain completely corpse-limp, while my arms tense with subscription and powerscale me one minute at time to the top. I make it at last, and then just keep doing the insane of dragging my limp flesh over the grassycool ground with manic arms slamclaw pulling me along. I'm still giggling when she decides to speak to me. "You know, you're lucky you didn't have anything obviously blue visible on you before I realized who you were." My head. Rolls up. My smile. Opens wide. Hel-lo, Pap-pri-kah-BLUE. H O W A R E Y O U ? I retch bubbles all red on the ground. Painted feet step back wary, dragging cuffs over grass as the cultist makes distance with hands in her pockets and cooled eyes never leaving me. She doesn't react to the monstrous I present, barely flinching when I cough and scream, dropping to the ground to smash hand and head into earth. The harpy waits patient as I finish the tantrum, and then makes it plain. "Are you... back for a reason?" Oh oh oh oh, Paprika, you silly little bluebird. I could tear your face open and make you eat red until you die of your anticolour. But I'll behave, because we talked shop, and I prove it by responding with an inhuman motion- I scream, slam face to ground to smear it bloody against rock and then bend to lean up and whip my back so her pack spills out of mine, into my clawing hands. I begin to crab-walk while holding it above me, grinning with eyes unclosesable and locked to her body language. Here it is- the promise, Paah-pree-KAAH. Oh, it's growing dark. The spray splits are following, gentle-racing over to our end of the sky, dragging the world into a thick green haze. She walks under the fractal of leaves, slowly reaching to pull it from my hands. I let my claws linger to make it just a little difficult to take... and I use that distraction to suddenly flash up from under her, my hand doing the quickdraw as I say nothing, my face leering directly into hers with a beautiful vial held up between us. The cultist almost drops her pack and leaps back, all of her instincts to kill me or express anger choked quiet by the raw force of the unknowable palette I offer her. Unrelenting, I stalk-walk while bearing the phial, forcing it up into her face again. She wants this. She never asked for this. She asked for her pack. She never wanted me back. It's here, and it's here twice, and I'm giving her what she asked for and what she wanted. That's my power over you, you stupid paint-huffing bluebird. I'm going to open Dancer like a pillow case and smear her unholy all across your mural. But right now, the phial; it's pressed into her hands, that lovely scintillation of malignant chroma, rendering her speechless as I make the most powerful move I can think of- I tell her, enjoy the gift, it was nice to see you, and I hope your art is productive, I'll be back again,  PAP. PREEP. KAH. -anyways, good morning, good afternoon, good evening, good night. She's going to speak and ruin the power so I RUSH away with incredible speed, on all four as I tear growling through the underbrush and vanish out to race alongside the mural. It's clean! Gone! Washed! I spit on the ground and don't dare let my blood smear it, but I run alongside it anyways and only stop when I realize it's still there. Still there- My handprint. The one thing not washed away. Why? I stand, hand crushed into the print, because there's something next to it- gold-yellow spray art of a hyena, laughing with something hidden. I laugh at it too and I listen, because it's telling me that I should scram before titty-blue comes after me and facepaints me for the fair, and I start to laugh so hard that I cry and keep hiccuping up nasty acidy bloody bubbles, wheezing as I press my face to the cool stone before running manic out into the dark once more. It's going to catch up! It's a race, then? Against the sky. Against what it hides. Against the murdering night, the killing light. Against the Sun... (HT - Run) 15 [1]+[3]+[6] = 10 - E͏V̵E͘R͢҉Y͘͟T҉͡H̶̨̀Į̢͡N̴̨͟͡G̶̡̕͡ ͜͜͟͞H̨͘͟͏͞Ù̕͢͡͝R̡̢̕̕͟T̶̢̨͢͜͡S̸̴̨͟͟͞ I've never run at my maximum sprint for this long before. One of my lungs has blown open in collapse, so full of bubbles it burst, too much pressure from the suicidal amount of stress I'm putting it under. But my God, the record times I make! Smashing and tripping over rocks, breaking dozens of bones every minute, vault-leaping with dog delight before crashing down to shatter my miserably frail meat. lovely wet dying meat. Can't think about it- it's mending for now, and I need that to take me just a little further. I know exactly where to go, how to follow the flow. I've one goal, to be safe where I can scream and rip my face off over and over, to sleep it away and beg for the come of day. I lope along down to the little bay where the old merchant's boat stays, but I don't look for it to approach in my frenzy of bodily rebuild. I keep up the lope. I can already feel my mending starting to slip when the lights come in to confuse my vision; the glow of Pluto City, there, right there on the mountainous incline! I start laughing and screaming Nyx's name, calling for her across the warming sad-brown hills leading into town, and for some reason the silver reflects off my eyes to show me lying atop her in rest, on some beautiful summer red night... (Salted-Earth Tanksnipe) 20 [5]+[6]+[1] = 12 - Hit. The earth next to me explodes with a massive air-puff. The sky, slowly gathering light to bleed, cries out once in report. I stop my insane gallop to slide to a deathstill pause, brain bleeding agony as it animal-whips to begin calculating exactly what happened- it takes me 2 seconds to understand the entire situation. A mile away, tops. The wind direction is constant; the mark in the ground isn't with or against the wind, so they're shooting with skill and very little light. So I stand up, sniff, smile, and begin to walk with the business casual, flipping my tie and tucking hands into my pockets. The thing is, that was absolutely a hit. That was going to shear me in two, and the frenzy of my blood is too cool now to save me from that kind of deadly. But they didn't hit, because in the micro between the bullet leaving the chamber and striking where I was supposed to be, someone asked a question. 「Avi’s Question」 I answered it, but the answer cost me precious psychic stress. [-1FP] HP: [ 25 / 25 ] FP: [ 14.5 / 15 ] But now I have to play, you see? Someone is trying to gun me. Someone is trying to give me a long-distance collect call. I want to talk back, and I'm going to do it with intent. So I walk the casual, daring daring daring daring, occasionally coughing up blood bubbles. I drool and slump when my torso muscles suddenly tear apart for another rebraiding, and that's when I know it'll come. Just have the answer ready. Easy easy, easy easy. Inhale, and... (Salted-Earth Tanksnipe) 20 [5]+[1]+[2] = 8 - Hit. 「Avi’s Question」 [-1 FP] Casual step, and it hits the dirt in front of me. Sidewind trajectory... they're aiming from higher up, somewhere north in mountain. I lash out with my brain and try to track the thoughts of the bullet back to the brain of its gun. (!PSI ESP βahahahaha are you serious with how animal you are right now) 11 [4]+[6]+[6] = 16 - FAILURE. Instead all I do is project such immense searing hate that whoever is shooting at me immediately shoots again, wild, cutting up dirt far away from me. But at least I know the direction. I look. I smile. I wave. I walk. My feet continue to carry me, begging me to drop to all fours and race towards the mountains with the intent to chew chew chomp chomp- but I fight it. I can't follow it. I have to keep smiling and waving as I walk, smile smile wave wave, oh no the corner of my mouth that torn open from smiling so hard so I screamlaugh with so much RED pouring out, bubbly popply sweet, and I suddenly collapse as my legs contort and try to rip themselves out of the socket with my kicks, muscles braiding themselves KILLTIGHT. TAKE THE SHOT. DO IT. I DARE YOU. (Salted-Earth Tanksnipe) 20 [5]+[2]+[2] = 9 - Hit, Dammit, Confirm The Hit. 「Avi’s Question」 [-1 FP]  I KNOW THE ANSWER! I... vomit, and the pain is increasing, it's hot and sweaty and pukey, and I know I need to make haste or the gun will get me and I'll be done. Run. Run. (HT - Run) 15 [6]+[3]+[2] = 11 - Success. Listen to the bullets try to find purchase in watery sick flesh- no game. No dice. I'm already gone, loping over hills and tumbling over fungus-ridden dirt, before it gives way to pavement, it gives ride to skyscraper, it hides my manic from scopesight. Better luck next time; the question will ALWAYS be answered. I see it- the sensual dim of towering fungal lights, the cloying stink of all their soft, a city overgrown by the prayers of those who speak in colourflash and voxsong. Those trapped inside genetic torment. Cast flying free of their past and future, a Now that they fight each second to make sense and stable from. These thoughts cloud my bloody brain as I kick open the doors to the lobby, rushing over to leap up onto the swivel chair still rotting by the reception desk, surfing it until I smash into debris and crack my head on the tile floor. I drag myself again, body limp and arms wheeling as I work my way to the bathroom. Each scream is sublimated into a growl, reverberation through the sallow halls until the bathroom door is gently pushed open. HP: [ 25 / 25 ] FP: [ 12.5 / 15 ] I walk inside, adjusting my tie. I inhale slowly, and smile, understanding what I have to do to survive the night. Outside, the spray splits have begun to savage the city with fungus-drying lashes of light, but I stand safe inside this cooling cell of relief. I'm fighting for my blood. There's four animals ravaging around in my organs, trying to shred my cells and make them their own. But I'm smiling! I tap-tap my heart and ask the parasite how it's doing- nothing but screams in response. Heart rate easily 200bpm. But you see, don't you? I enslaved this lovely stupid organism. It's more ME than it is IT by now, sublimated and collared to the absolute of my biology. You think I can't do the same to you four? You think I, who stabbed my heart to bloody a dead sword, cursing Emperor, can't fight to make this blood submit to my intent? I can, but I know that I'm going to need help. So I approach a tile wall. I find a nice metal exposure, a flat hard surface. I inhale, and lean my head back, and then SLAM it into the metal. Then, I do it again. And again. Then again. Over, and over, and over, my face desperately healing itself as I drown further and further into blackness. I'm calling, you see. I'm reaching out for someone who will understand. I'm going to send myself into coma nightmare, to demand the Pact I made be honored. My head smashes into the bloody metal faster, body automating as it forces out the horrific energy keeping me awake. I can't see clearly, one eye burst open and reforming. I'm getting drowsy, my intent alone forcing me to keep slamming my head into the wall, even as the metal deforms and crumples. Force it. (WL - I Can Do Anything I Will) 20(-?) [2]+[2]+[2] = 6 - Great Success!! The body does as my crown demands. I don't know when it happens, but darkness comes over me, and I'm falling back down into a nightmare of my own desire. Sauber- Duke Sauber- Honor my blood.
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Nov 2, 2022 18:07
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Black August posted:[2]+[2]+[2]
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Nov 2, 2022 19:32
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That was interesting. But if I'd trust any predator to help us handle the blood of competing predators inside us, it would be the Duke, yes. The stats page hasn't been updated with the result of our votes on what the blood infusion gave us yet, has it?
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Nov 2, 2022 19:33
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It has not, the transformation is still ongoing, with the results coming in after the next update.
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Nov 2, 2022 19:40
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What was the stated power of avi’s question? Seemed very very good here
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Nov 2, 2022 19:45
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Captain Foo posted:What was the stated power of avi’s question? Seemed very very good here Basically immunity to small arm guns, 1 FP to dodge big guns, an ESP roll and 1 FP to dodge REALLY BIG GUNS.
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Nov 2, 2022 19:47
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The Tyrant really does need a nap at this point. They've been through an awful lot these last few updates. It'll be great to see the Duke again! (And the Cats of Ulthar! <3) Assuming the head-thwack-into-the-Dreamlands gambit works as planned, of course.
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Nov 2, 2022 19:47
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| # ? Jun 5, 2024 23:54 |
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Eh, considering everything else that has instantly healed up, we'll either end up knocked out or with a giant headache.
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Nov 2, 2022 19:50
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