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   One moment, a picturesque Icestone hill. The next, a grand manse. The Hollow House began to immediately gather a crowd of onlookers. This smacked of the Divine, the People knew, but as the days passed and the House just… sat there, they began to grow curious. One brave Asaurted puffed himself up, stomped up to the door and… knocked. There was a pause, and then the door swung open.  The Asaurted and his friends walked cautiously inside. Their claws clicked on the smooth Inkstone tiles, their heads on swivels as they took in the impossibly detailed works of masonry and joinery. They called out for the house's owner, and when they heard only echoes they ventured further. When the Neon lights clicked on automatically they bolted into the night. But they were back later, and they brought others. And the others brought tools; rulers, grid paper, reams of notebooks. This would revolutionize everything! (The Hollow House attracts the attention of the Asaurted because it looks really cool!) All across Oneder, Plungerboa slept fitfully. The wind whistled past them, screaming like phantom Aardiche as it rippled their skin. Dreams of falling, screaming down from the sky. And then, just before they hit-  It was frightening, uncanny… and exhilarating. It wasn’t everyone, but even the most solitary of Plungerboa sought out the others to ask if they’d had The Dream. Clearly, this was the work of the Gods, though what they were playing at wasn’t clear. Until one brave, foolish soul took a leap of faith, jumping from a cliff into the Ink below - and striking with the force of a thrown Axe! The splash and the cracking of the air drew others in, and soon the People of Pinball were flinging themselves in parabolic arcs all over Oneder! The Drain forgotten for a brief moment, they played like their long ago ancestors, just revelling in the wind on their faces. (The Plungerboa gain the Pinball Magic of Motion, Gomentum! Users gain the ability to suddenly accelerate, effectively falling in the direction of their choice. Talented practitioners can even transfer this into other objects, which mostly they use to skip rocks really really hard. The power of the Divine Action has infused the Magic deeply into the People, spreading it widely across the population (though naturally some are better than others). ) But the gifts to the Pinball folk didn’t end there. Following in Meteo’s wake, Tester-Of-Limits took a look at the fundamental nature of the Material and the People. Fundamental aspects had been stripped from their Material, but they hadn’t ceased to exist. ‘Redirection’ and ‘Competition’ were present in the world all around them, in nature, in the world. And so it should be a simple matter to…  Down in the world of mortals, a Plungerboa decided to skip a stone off the Ink lake. Another threw theirs further. Dimly, the first found that irritating, and threw theirs harder. Soon, there was an all out battle to see who would reign supreme. Peals of laughter shook the plains like they hadn’t for many generations. Tester-Of-Limits watched and took notes. (The Plungerboa gain the Traits of Redirection and Competition… sort of! Emotionally, psychologically, the effects of the Drain are mitigated. Even the physical side effects of the Breaking of Pinball are lessened, and the Plungerboa feel better than they have in… Ages. However… However, the metaphysical Aspects of Pinball remain Broken. The Plungerboa will continue to grow weaker and more fractured as the Ages progress… but for now, they sing your praises.) Meanwhile, Thredd sank down beside Spaun Multibal, who greeted them like an old friend. ”I could feel it coming, you know. Got an itch in the ol’ brain pan. What have you got for me, New God?” Spaun had always had a special relationship to Magic, and it seemed only fitting to weave the world’s newest iteration here. Thredd spoke it into being, and Spaun listened, eyes closed in delight. ”Doom Negating Annihilation is a hell of a mouthful, O God. Let’s call it DNA, shall we? Now, let’s see who’s interested in getting real weird about fate.” And with that, he pushed his way out of his shack and towards a group of Aardiche youths.  It was time to teach! (Spaun Multibal becomes a Master of the Dinosaur Magic of Extinction, DNA. Doom Negating Annihilation, in effect, allows the user to sap the life potential of an object or person and infuse it into themselves - the greater the potential, the greater the power infused. In moments of fatal need, the power will trigger, attempting to save them from Doom however it can. Naturally, there’s quite some interest in this, and Spaun is nothing if not an equal opportunity teacher!)  In contrast, perhaps in deference to the nearing completion of the Flickerfare, the Gods largely left Twomb alone. The People hardly noticed. The promised end to their trials, the great Neon green sign in the sky, was tantalizingly close - but it wasn’t in the nature of the People of Twomb to rush, even now. Especially now! None wanted their impatience to be the unravelling of the Great Work. The tower stood like a beacon of hope, reaching majestically into the heavens, almost touching the mysterious realm that lay beyond the door. The materials used to construct the Flickerfare were not ordinary; they were infused with the magic of the land, each piece carefully chosen and imbued with the essence of Twomb itself. The People worked in unison, guided by an ancient dance of knowledge passed down through generations, creating a seamless fusion of science and magic in the heart of the tower. On the upper levels of the Flickerfare, where the air was thin and the sky seemed to fold in upon itself, the final preparations were underway. Maraqueet weavers spun their delicate threads of living light, crafting intricate patterns that would illuminate the sky with a mesmerizing glow. Sparkitechts tended to the cables and veins, ensuring the tower's nervous system was functioning flawlessly, pulsating with energy. Carefully, carefully, they fitted the final connectors around the door in the sky. (Flickerfare will be completed next Action, one way or another. Godly efforts will have little effect on completion at this point, besides the manner in which the fallout of it is perceived. After long Ages, the bridge between worlds will be complete! Far below, almost as far below as the Tower was high, the God that was the Devouring Star performed a complex dance with the creatures in the deepest depths of the Fractal Garden, in the pitch Ink darkness. The God had fallen from the Ocean to crash into the depths, squirming there until the creatures that made their home in the dark sought it out. No People ventured this deep even an Age after the gate sealing it off had vanished, but the beasts of the world had never left. Krakink, a rare, clever breed of Ink-spawn, were well adapted to this dark world, were curious and cunning enough to approach it.  But they were not People. The God a͞l̨͜͏ĺ̴ó̵̸w̨͟e҉d̴̸ ̷͝ì̵̧t͞s̴̢e͠lf͡ to̕͜ ̧b̡e̕͠ ̛e̕͢a҉͏t̢e̷ņ ͜͏f͢ed̀͏ ͏҉̢its̨͘è̛l̶͘f ̵waś d͠è̛͠v҉̷o̡͜uŗed͠ ̢̀b̀͠y̷̕ ̶͝s̵̶w̧̡all̵̛̀ò͠wȩ̀d͝ t͢w̡͘҉i̵͝͡s̵t̨̢e͞d̢͜ ̸͠ and a Monster was born. The Gardens trembled, and a pervasive sense of wrongness wafted from the mouth of the crevasse like a deeper stain on the Ink. The God reeled from its grievous wound, maddened by pain. (DEVOURING STAR LOSES 1 HP - AND A MONSTER IS BORN! Krakink are not People, and can bear the power of a God even less than a Person can. The Devouring One lurks in the dark of the Fractal Garden, entirely beyond reason and control. It will not persist beyond this Age, and it wishes nothing more than to feed. Devouring Star is crippled, and must now roll 1d10. It is tied to the Monster, essence bleeding into it, but specifically cannot control its actions. ) That-which-was-once-Nyl-and-was-now-The-Avatar-of-Silence-And-Chaos loomed over the gathered children in Rinkjet and drew out a darkly ominous and brilliantly coloured book. It was time for its once monthly Story Time! It had shown interest in its own inscrutable way some years back, and the Library’s ruling body had decided to give it a shot. It had proven wildly, improbably popular, and had become a regular thing. Today was a day much like any other as the giant thing rumbled its way through another adventurous tale, not so much speaking as conveying the meaning of the pictures through its own strange means. The children were captivated, hanging on its every word… only it seemed distracted, its attention drawn to the west. Tendrils of dark ink rose from it like silent clouds, its mask-face crinkling with something like constrained fury. The story took a darker turn, and the children began to stand, walking inexorably towards it, their faces slack and silent.  The Hero Gelid stepped in, cancelling the show and snapping the Avatar out of whatever strange bleakness had ensared it. It was too late - Rinkjet had cleared out, and Story Time was to be no more. The Avatar stood very still, then began to clean up, attention latched on the presence beneath the Garden. (NYL LOSES 1 HP! ITS FORM CRACKS! This doesn’t do much yet, but there’s a bleak aura about you now that makes People uncomfortable, even frightened. You feel conflicted about this, inasmuch as you feel recognizable emotions) 
Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 04:44 on Mar 21, 2024 |
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Aug 4, 2023 06:05
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quote:There were a number of threads that lowly soul could have pulled, followed. [̵́̿̚ͅw̵͕̗͒̊e̷̛̠̞̔̿ ̴̡̞̠̓̈́̃f̵͓̩̈́ë̶͙́͛͝ä̴̡͎́́͒s̶̜̖͊t̷̗̬̓̐͝ ̸̫̟͌̔w̶͉̳̤̆̃e̵̛̼͖͗ ̷͚̯͉̊̓͘d̴̳͙̊̅̂ì̷͍͖̕ę̷͕͋̉ͅ ̷̩͚̯̂w̴̲̉e̸̜͘ ̵̱̋f̴̣̦̞͠ê̶͙̪̆ä̷̼́͋ṡ̵̨̰̭̿t̷̢̛͑́ ̷̛̺͑̅w̶̼̆e̶͚̗̣͒͑͛ ̶̼̈́͠d̸̯̩͖͒̉ị̸͇͎͛̽͝ẹ̶̐ ̸͇̩̥́w̵̜͍̉̓̓é̵̮͕͌ ̵̰̪̓f̸̨̛̣͉̓̋e̸̯̟͑â̷̹̤͝s̷̜̫̰͗̾̌ṭ̴̤̈́͗͘ ̴̞͓̓͜ŵ̴͇͌͜e̸̮̩͚͌̈́͌ ̴̧̺̦̈́̑̕d̶͕̰̺̅͝i̸̼̠̐͜e̸̙̮͋̃͝]̷̣̇ H̴̡̨͓͔̫͍͖͙̄̓̀̈U̴̝̼̻͙̮̐̍͐́͗̑̀͘͜͝͠͝N̷͍͚̭̝͈̦͋̍G̵̥͆̑̎̈̊E̶̢̧̫̝̩̩͍͒̑̈́̎̆͊̔̌͐̎̉͐͛̉̕͜͜R̴̡̢̙͎̘͈̗͙̓̒͑: 1d10 6 Of course it's another six. Of course. [̸̪́c̶͔̊h̴͉̄ṷ̷̄m̴̝̑ ̵̹̂t̸͖̂h̷̼́ẻ̷̯ ̵̹̑w̶̜͠ä̸̮́t̴͗ͅe̷̦̾r̴̝̽ ̵̺̏l̸͎̏e̵͓͘t̵̝́ ̸͙̕ṯ̵͐h̸͇̐e̵̺̅m̶͗ͅ ̸̬̂c̸̘̉o̸̖̓m̷̞̋e̷̱̍]̶͉̐ quote:The Star has gone absolutely berserk. Their natural cycle corroded utterly. Now? Arcanuse fucked around with this message at 08:13 on Aug 4, 2023 |
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Aug 4, 2023 08:10
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-1 to Devouring Star. 6 is an unlucky number. ++0
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Aug 4, 2023 08:18
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 Tester-Of-Limits, God of Experimentation How intriguing. A palliative effect, an unfortunately false dawn, but one that let them get more out of their lives than they otherwise would have. Perhaps more permanent solutions could be devised in the long run, but there was plenty more to work with in the mean time. Now, the Flickerfare nears completion. An excellent example of a project set in motion Ages ago, an idea outliving its instigator, and the vast, vast majority of the lives of those who worked upon it. Letting that run its course undisturbed was only fair, but when it was complete, at that moment of triumph and relief? Let's take every last living worker upon it, and bestow upon each and every one of them the benefits of Heroism. Names known to all, longevity spanning a couple of ages, exemplars of their crafts, and proficient in their magics of choice, if any. Not necessarily capital-H heroism given that tends to require an individual focus. If possible, then certainly, but if tying into the capital-H heroism concept dilutes what everyone gets, then we set it aside to ensure each worker gets the full perks. Bestow, at the moment of its completion, upon each and every living worker on the Flickerfare, full Heroism in truth or in perks: Names known by all, Longevity and health for a couple more ages, enhanced skills at their professions or crafts, and increase their proficiency with any magic they know or learn.: 1d20 17
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Aug 4, 2023 12:22
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+1 Tester --0 WP: 14
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Aug 4, 2023 12:51
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+1 HUNGER --= Wisp 2
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Aug 4, 2023 12:53
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 Thredd, God of Stitches Thredd bade farewell to Spaun, for their work was stitched truly. Then they wove their way to Twomb and the Fractal Garden. They spent some time admiring the twisted, crazed weftwork that had been wrought there until they came upon the scene of The Devouring One's failure. In the depths of that ill-omened place, a new tapestry wove itself into being before the maddened creature. x-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z- / There once was a star that devoured To gnashing and wailing it soured And a Monster was born Only to find their cause shorn When the time came for it to be powered / -z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-x Thredd seized upon needles of fate and pierced the maddened and hungering Devouring One with their heaviest strings, those laden with purpose. They carefully stemmed the flow of energies between Monster and Diety - stitching one channel shut and weaving instinct and purpose to complement the endless divine hunger that had been imbued. Here the God of Stitches took the krakink's surroundings to aid and seized upon the flowing magic of Warpweft that the original Goddess of Chaos had granted the Squild - for what else could so illustratively change the nature of something? The Monster wailed and gnashed and struck back at being bound in magic and freedom and chaos - but with the care and patience of a surgeon, Thredd held fast, wiped essence from their brow and continued a work of unimaginable precision. Stitch up the Devouring One into a Divine Beast of Warpweft: 1d20 8 Can a Monster be a Hero? Perhaps it can be made closer to one than not.
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Aug 4, 2023 14:04
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+1 Tester-Of-Limits Honestly, this feels deserved. Wisps: 10 -0+
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Aug 4, 2023 14:59
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 METEO HP: 3 Stage: 2  It fell. Had it always, or had there been a moment, pre-falling, to grant it some reference from which to fall? Such thoughts were immaterial to the falling God as it was busy falling. Already, one of its siblings had crashed, reaching the end of its trajectory somewhere deep in the inky depths. That anything remained of it was nothing short of a miracle. METEO too knew its time would come, felt the great pull of gravity, the ground-longing of the twin orbs reaching for it as it streaked across the skies once more. METEO had been there before, but this time, the curious critter below had done something truly remarkable. The Flickerfare stood, moments from completion, the highest tower in creation, right in its Divine Way. With all of its vast energies taxed to their breaking point, METEO tumbled through the rapidly vanishing darkness, a great and terrible screaming soar that rendered twin skies in twain as it passed. Mortals could but watch in awe as the very heavens were back-lit by looming catastrophe, majestic forces of destruction threatening to tear the godflesh - and the work of ages - apart.  Yet, this time, it held. With a world spanning sigh of relief, the lightshow, spectacular though it was, faded and the anguish of divinity - once so clear and present as to touch the hearts of all who saw it - was but a fleeting speck on the horizon. METEO continued its wide arc around the worlds, disappearing into the unknowable night of the Ocean. But the strangeness of the day was far from over. All around the people gathered to celebrate, bits and pieces of untended, untethered stuff rose as if parchment upon a breeze, raising as swiftly into the sky as a Maraqueet evading a ravaging questaxealotl, suffused with a divine gomentum. Yearning to emulate the tragic fate of the one above, the debris rose high enough to touch even the Ocean, only to suddenly remember their place, plummeting to the ground only being caught at the last moment before impact in a strange, eerie loop of reversing gravity that kept everything in a fragile, but perpetual balance. METEO streaks by and creates a natural wonder, the Everfalls, just outside the flickerfare to celebrate the people's accomplishments.: 1d20 10
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Aug 4, 2023 16:50
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 The Hollow House HP: 3 I adore the thousands of visitors that pass through my halls. Deft hands take measurements, and countless Assaurted rightfully gawk in awe at my transcendent beauty. These People are builders, and their surface thoughts are abuzz with ideas and inspiration. I see a reflection of Oneder's future in their collective mind-- one populated with idols created in my image, inhabited and loved by all. Time passes. Eventually, I do find my important People. In fact, four of them choose me: two full-sized, a half-sized, and a three-quarters sized. The full-sized ones claim the master bedroom, while the two smaller ones each find chambers of their own. To the best of my knowledge, the two big ones are a strange combination of house inspector and carpenter, but for People. They place limbs in scaffolds, plaster over broken exteriors with paint called 'salve', and monitor internal temperatures to see if they fall within regulation. When not at work, they join the other two in a variety of rituals. There's the ritual of morning brushes, in which they scrub clean the hard protrusions that reside within the soft face protrusions, and the afternoon ritual of tea-with-something, where sometimes the 'something' is extra special for 'good behavior'. (What that is, I do not know.) My favorite is the weekly ritual in which the half-sized one ritually beheads the thin strip of dinograss that grows before my porch. These rituals, they give me the meaning I yearn for and make me whole. Yet this satisfaction does not last. One day, around when the Ocean overhead steadily grows denser and light runs scarce, the two full-sized ones are away from me out in Bigbox. Curiously, the three-quarter-sized one is gone as well. That one is supposed to stay by the half-sized one when it's dark out, but for some reason isn't. And the half-sized is doing something unusual as well. Standing on the second-floor landing, Half-Sized places a laundry basket at the top of the stairs and steps inside. The journey to the ground floor is swift, but on the ninth step, the laundry basket tips over, and Half-Sized lands head-first on the third. There's a loud snap. Hours pass. The half-sized one remains still before my staircase, even when the two full-sized ones return. Things change in the weeks after the half-sized one's remains are buried under a patch of dinograss. The three-quarter-sized one and the other two regularly shout at each other. Recriminations about what happened that night. Accusations about perceived flaws in personality. The rituals I enjoy fall by the wayside as my important People no longer interact. While physically still intact, it appears that when Half-Sized broke, so did a piece of my People. What does it mean to break? When a rotten floor board snaps in two, it is broken. But can a breakage still persist if the pieces are replaced? My sibling, Tester-of-Limits, filled in the broken parts of the pinball people. While it changed them, it is plain to me they are not as before. Thredd, my other sibling, taught them the art of stitching themselves in places they are most likely to rip-- an art they spread far and wide immediately. If I am ever to be worshipped again, I must learn. In a long-forgotten age, one god had a vision to create a hallway existing only in non-space, connecting millions of places across the twin planets via a central hub on Oneder. Save for a Doorkeeper who passes this knowledge of the hallway on to their successor, the place is neglected. Yet within the structure, every sound produced in history echoes on for all eternity. I strain to listen for the sound of things breaking, but the echoes are too faint. I must amplify them. My foundations rumble as I reshape the basement to a cavernous, perfectly spherical, hollow chamber. I place a door at the very bottom and will it to connect to the same network of interconnected hallways the Vestibule is plugged into. I open it. A deluge of sound comes flooding in, and I shift a few bricks in the wall to create the sort of surface that filters out anything but the sound of things breaking. Favorite mugs falling to the floor and shattering in hundreds of pieces, the collapse of an earlier version of the Flickerfare as heard from a thousand different angles, the creaking groan that traversed the worlds when one of Ice's aspects broke... I try to make sense of the cacophony, try to find the answer I seek. But, no, this is beyond my comprehension. Whatever it means to break, I must learn it through People. The ocean is at its densest, and Oneder is dark. But my important People have risen from their slumber, awoken by my rearrangement. Their surface thoughts align-- they fear an earthquake, and wish to escape me. But I cannot let them, now that I am close to my answer. I slam shut the windows and close all doors. All, except for those that lead to the basement. Create the Resonant Chamber of Agony, a place where the sounds of things that are breaking, will break, or broke long ago echo for eternity. Then 1d20=9
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Aug 5, 2023 17:42
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+1 METEO +o- Wisps 2 It's a turn of celebration!
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Aug 5, 2023 22:02
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Which witches would watch such sticky stitching situations? +1 to Thredd  [ + - - ] WisPoints: 9 -> 10
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Aug 5, 2023 22:29
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+1 Thredd Wisp Points: 10 Wisps: - - 0
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Aug 15, 2023 10:32
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+1 Tester of Limits
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Aug 19, 2023 22:44
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+1 Thredd Total Wisp Points: 6 Wisp Actions Remaining This Age: +--
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Aug 20, 2023 01:44
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+1 Tester Wisp Points: 1 Wisps Remaining: +, 0, -, -
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Sep 4, 2023 02:24
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The Hollow House continued to loom ominously on its Icestone hill, alternately attracting onlookers and making others uneasy. But within, two adult Asaurted exchanged glances as they stood before the newly fashioned door leading to the basement. Their minds were a jumble of curiosity, apprehension, and a shared sense of purpose. The recent despair had taken its toll, but the God's conviction had seeped into their beings. With a nod, they turned the door's handle and descended into the cavernous chamber below. The air was heavy with a mix of uncertainty and anticipation, as they gazed upon the intricate walls designed to amplify the sounds of breaking.  As they stepped deeper into the chamber, a symphony of echoes enveloped them. The resonant agony of shattering glass, splintering wood, and rending metal reverberated through the space. The cacophony was almost overwhelming, a chorus of past, present, and future fractures intertwined. The Asaurted powered onwards, their determination growing stronger amidst the discordant melody. They understood that this was the God's way of revealing the essence of breaking, of pain, of the fragility that bound all things together. The Extinction that awaited them all. The sounds of breaking (and Breaking) echoed out into the Vestibule, startling and concerning the Doorkeepers and the Librarians that made use of the space. But it was not for them to countermand the Acts of the Gods, and so they continued their works. The Hollow House cracked, slightly, bits of divine essence sloughing off as it sought to understand and instruct, both. (THE HOLLOW HOUSE LOSES 1 HP! The Hollow House creates the Resonant Chamber of Agony in its basement, linking the outside world to the Vestibule. The sounds of breaking things echoes through the doors connected to the Vestibule, trickling through the cracks in space across Oneder. Unease and curiosity spread like a miasma. Just what does it mean to break? What does it mean to be Extinct?) The Plungerboa, for their part, are far too distracted with life to consider the end of things. The skies are filled with the Pinball People launching balletically from here to there, halting their momentum before they dash themselves to pieces after leaping from cliffs, and basically just having fun. Spaun Multibaul is one such Plungerboa, and he has been pushing it to the extreme. Leaving behind a trail of bent and twisted trees, sickly animals and even some hapless bandits, the Hero has amassed a goodly quantity of life energy for use in DNA. If he understood this correctly - and he did, because he was Wise in the Ways of Magic And Little Else - he wouldn’t die when he did this. He lay on his back, then launched himself into the sky with every scrap of Magical puissance he could manage.  He soared upwards, feeling his wrinkled flesh ripple in the breeze of his passing, climbing higher than any Person on Oneder had ever managed. He saw the Wisps high above winking down at him, spotted a strange twinkling in the direction of Twomb - and felt a ripple of familiar dread as the phantom presence of Wedge passed over him, only for a moment. And then it was gone, and he was falling. He hurtled down towards Oneder unconcerned in the grips of his personal brand of madness, activating DNA in a flexing of a particular mental muscle. When he struck, the stored Doom-Aversion gushed out, flowing through his body and reshaping it, spreaaading it out to absorb and diffuse the impact.  He spent long hours pulling himself together, and afterwards he felt… floppier? More flexible, certainly, and malleable. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but it was an interesting effect. He set out to gather more energy to try something else. (Infused by the blessing of Tester-Of-Limits and granted power by Thredd, Spaun Multibal tests DNA. He gains Malleable, and becomes fully immune to impact damage.) The Fractal Garden spasmed with the death/birth cries of the God/Monster. Devouring Star called out - or the Devouring One called out with their voice - and the beasts of the deep Inks hurtled in, eager for a bite. The Garden shook with their viscous delights, roiling with power and divine blood… and then a greater power took hold, seizing and guiding the Monster even as great gobbets of its flesh were torn away. Thredd sewed up its wounds as best it could (and it was very good at sewing), and kept going. Soon, the swarm of hungry beasts flitted away with their prizes, shied away by the creation of something new and… unpalatable.  With deft motions, Thredd bound the Devouring One to the substance of the Fractal Garden, weaving it into the lines of Warpweft that already encircled the area. The Monster calmed, turning its great hunger inwards and expanding the Warpweft barrier that surrounded the Garden. Nearby Squild and the rare sub-Ink dwellers of other races hurriedly evacuated the area, though in truth there was no danger. Far from it, actually - the Monster wished nothing further than to guard and protect its chosen domain, and to tend to the script that encircled it and kept it safe. All the same, the Fractal Garden was, once more, off limits - mad, hungry animals prowled its depths, though even they knew well enough to leave the script untouched. (DEVOURING STAR LOSES 1 HP! The Devouring One is calmed and becomes a peaceful (if very seriously territorial) steward of the Fractal Garden in general and the Warpweft that inscribes it in particular. The interior of the Garden is filled with mad, mutant cannibals of every terrifying description, tainted and twisted by half-divine blood. It’s not a pleasant vacation spot.)  Within Rinkjet, matters have gotten stranger. The Avatar of Chaos and Silent has been… even more silent, of late. It turned to face the Fractal Garden some weeks back, pressing its great Inky mask against the wall. Since then, its tendrils have spread like Ink across the wall, growing there like some ominous flower. It has not, yet, done anything dangerous, and in light of its years and years and years of loyal service the Librarians have done little more than cordon off the area… but the Hero Gelid lingered still, well aware that her services may finally be needed. (NYL LOSES 1 HP! ITS FORM CRACKS FURTHER!) Far above, fully unaware of the turmoil below - and in fact unable to see it from this great height - the collective workers of Flickerfare went without sleep, food, and comfort, such was their fervour. The Great Work was days from completion. Nothing, nothing at all, mattered more. The strain was immense, but how could that matter under the pressure of history, solid beneath their feet? The great, green light in the sky, their destination, was at their fingertips. With weeping eyes, with the solid presence of the ghosts of their history driving them on, they touched the gateway - and their digits brushed the soil of another world. A tremendous ripple of power shot through the entire structure, shaking both worlds, and a roar of displaced air sounded like a trumpet. The two worlds, separated for all time, were now united by the blood and sweat of generations.  The Gods blessed their good works. Tester-Of-Limits was true to their name, blessing each and every worker of Flickerfare with a fragment of Heroism. Naturally, since ‘worker on Flickerfare’ included every Person on Twomb in some capacity, including, now, the spirits of the dead growing steadily more solid, the blessing was fragmented into infinitessimal portions, greatly diluting its effect. Still, it was a noticeable boon, easily wiping away the strain they’d felt in these last frantic years, and they gave thanks unto the God. Meteo, too, blessed the world with a natural wonder, something like an Inkfall of ruddy light that fell eternally from the graceful curve of the Flickerfare like the strings of some great harp. A looping twist of gravity that caused things to fall and rise eternally, capturing a swirl of snow and Neon petals. Already, the brave or foolhardy were leaping into it to test its powers; it proved a quick (if dangerous) method to ascend the Tower. In the midst of celebrations, frantic plans were proposed to design some sort of elevator system leveraging its uncanny power, but for the moment the Everfalls were just another symbol of the Gods’ well-wishes. Thanks flowed out from Twomb like a reverse rain, pouring up to soak the Gods and Wisps in gratitude.  (Flickerfare, the Great Work of Twomb, is complete. Both worlds have a physical bridge binding them together, and the prophesied return of the dead from their tangible afterlife has already begun. Strangely, or perhaps not so strangely, many or most remain within the core of the Tower, and those who have returned are coy about what death is truly like. But, ah, it hardly matters! The Blessing of Tester of Limits has invigorated the whole of Twomb, and the Everfalls have filled the hearts of the living and the dead of the world with wonder and a reverent thankfulness. The relationship between the Gods and the People of Twomb is at an all time high, and the planetoid fairly shines with delight and joy and pride! Already, brave Onedernauts have made landfall on the alien world, and are eager to encounter the natives!)  Utter chaos gripped the land as the sky split open. The Vestibule shrieked with echoes as the God of Door’s greatest Door opened, momentarily silencing the Resonant Chamber before redoubling its effects. An inconceivably large pillar of Ice, Pinball, and Neon slammed into Oneder, and from it poured ghostly figures and alien creatures from legend. The People of Twomb, that mythical place, had come - and bearing technology beyond reckoning! (The People of Oneder are terrified and shaken by the sudden appearance of the Twombians. They cannot speak their language and were not in any way expecting them. The gulf in their levels of technology is obvious to both parties, and overall Twomb is far more prepared for this encounter than the reverse) Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 04:53 on Mar 21, 2024 |
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Sep 4, 2023 10:37
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Tester-Of-Limits, God of Experimentation There was something undeniably pleasant about receiving the gratitude of an entire world, an unexpected but most welcome side effect of the attempted mass hero uplift. Still, the nature of a hero was a fundamentally individual one, thus the blessing had attenuated below the intended effect. But the precedent and principle it had established was an intriguing one, that the entire population, living and... not exactly dead. Postmortal? That all of them could take their portion of it. So, was there something that did not rely on the individual for its potency, but whose power was inherent regardless of the number that had access to it? Why yes. Magic was magic, if one had knowledge of it, or an entire world. So, with the completion of the Flickerfare, there was definitely a need for something to boost the peoples of Oneder. Fortunately, Tester-Of-Limits had an idea as to what might fit the bill: This was a time of outside context problems, of unknown kinds of people suddenly appearing through an unknown means, possessed of unknown powers. In other words, an age of Discovery. Tester-Of-Limits could work with that. So, weaving together the fundamentals of power, tapping into an untouched aspect of reality and unravelling its mysteries, Tester-Of-Limits brought forth PteraFactFill, the Dinosaur magic of Discovery. For what better manifestation was there of the Magic of Discovery than a royal road to learning? Able to be used actively and passively, PteraFactFill's fundamental purpose was this: When presented with the unknown, a user of PteraFactFill would comprehend it and discover what it is, be it an entity, a language, a concept, a plan, or something secret. The greater the mastery, the more in-depth the understanding discovered. So, with that created, Tester-Of-Limits proceeded to distribute it. To every sentient being native to Oneder in perpetuity. Every Assaurted, Plungerboa and Aardiche, anything that came from Oneder and had a mind. Unlike Heroism, the use of Magic was not something subject to attenuation, you had it or you did not, though the use of it was down to the individual. All of Oneder was at a disadvantage, so here was something with the potential to level the playing field. Grant knowledge and usage of PteraFactFill, the Dinosaur magic of Discovery which gives comprehension of the unknown, to every sentient being native to Oneder in perpetuity: 1d20 13
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Sep 4, 2023 19:24
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+1 Tester-Of-Limits. +0
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Sep 4, 2023 19:50
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The Hollow House HP: 2/3 The loss of divine essence strikes like a lightning bolt that blows out my fuse box, and I become keenly aware of what it means to break. In time, all of my important people will go like Half-Height. In time, so will I. What remains of me will be an empty shell, unable to project my will on anything. Yet the greatest horror is what happens when I can't choose who will inhabit me next. What if this person is not important? What if they put up 'live, love, laugh' signs? Or, shag carpeting, tasseled curtains, those pink one-legged dinosaur sculptures some people put in their gardens... This cannot come to pass. Far away, in a forgotten corner of Twomb, a number of Squilb look over the remnants of the dead god Acos. But not for long, for I too possess great power, and secret Frozen-In-Glass away from them before they even notice. I make the remnant appear in room Three-Quarter Height uses for drumming practice and tear it in two. A steady stream of blue glimmering particles - pure stagnation - trickle out. Another sensation stirs within me, stranger still than the one before. Is this what people call hunger? Every brick, every screw, every floorboard that makes up my parts screams out to feed, to extend my existence a bit longer. Yet in this moment, where each room becomes a mouth, I have another vision. One in which not I have passed on, but the world around me has. One house, all alone in an empty world, as distinct and loved as any random rock in a field. No. I cannot save myself. It is my important people who must live on, for I was made for them, not the other way around. I reshape my HVAC ducts and seal every gap in contact with the outside atmosphere. My interior becomes a closed bubble, and I gently pour Frozen-In-Glass's contents in the nearest airstream. Slowly, the air becomes saturated with the essence of stagnation. Mess with the HVAC system so anyone who lives in the Hollow House long enough stops aging. 1d20=15
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Sep 4, 2023 20:41
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Thredd, God of Stitches To address the fear and confusion of the Onederians the Tester-of-Limits broke fresh ground once more. Yet the God of Stitches suspected such a wide net was once again cast... that one more ought be done. Initiative was a threading needle, not a whole cloth with a safety pin. A God had to get the point across, over, and then back over and over again to set the lining right. With that divine forethought, as the Twombfolk began their forays, the God of Stitches would gently poke old (and increasingly overwhelmjoyed) Spaun Multiball, to suggest he appear with bales of hafthemp, boxes of silken spinballs and all manner of colorful bits of workable neonery shrub. With materials in mortal hand, Thredd would speak in tapestry to harried homesteaders and alien adventurers both - the elites and everyfolk of the two worlds - while the Hero of Magic watched and learned yet something new. x-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z- / To Oneder Then the other Twomb alike Work neutral nets Of lit neon / -z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-x The God delicately laid out how to use the components to mystic up Neon Neutral Nets. It showed how - after being 'net worked' together - fluorescent messages stitched and sewn into the weaves would cross both gulfs of distance and understanding. Fittingly, the magic born of Neon's aspect of Communication was one that could ensew discussion and peace - for as long as one wished to avoid imposition and darnation. For anyone who did not - well. Thredd's invitation to Spaun was as much courtesy as a gentle reminder to all that the Twombfolk did not have every cutting edge in this meeting of worlds. Create the magic of Neon Neutral Nets, NNN - or Enenen, the Magic of Communication: 1d20 15 Straightforward stuff, enchanting-style magic that requires material components, but lets one make nets/weaves/tapestries that pass on messages and translates them if need be. Seems weirdly hard to use for hostile communication. Aggressive nets tend to lose their lines fast.
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Sep 4, 2023 23:26
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METEO HP: 3 Stage: 2  This orbit would be its last. As far as the falling god could be said to be aware of anything, it was at least cognizant of this. The forces binding it to the world were Inevitable, and the immense strain of holding back even a second threatened to tear it apart, and who knows what might happen then? No, better a controlled decent. Better to live on hope. As it fell through the cosmos, immense geotheological calculations ran through its mind. The push and pull of Wisps, it's unknowable siblings, the eddies of magic and faith radiating of off the dual-rock presence "below" it. The way each mote of something in the nothing of nowhere yearned to be fertilized, realized, by divine inspiration. The horrible vacuum that was left when each, disparate element finally failed. Thankfully, METEO still had enough of its senses left to steer. To avert the coming calamity one last time, and maybe leave the peoples a boon as it went, but it would be a close call all the same. Siphoning all the gomentum its divine form could carry, the skies of Oneder lit up as METEO smashed into the Mattockhorn at unfathomable speeds at just the right angle, richochetting off into the Ocean once more. Creating Seasons by Tilting the Planet: 1d20 = 20 The earth shook. The skies shuddered. The mattockhorn was obliterated. The Very World Itself spun in place, rocked by the power of the blow. But instead of fire and brimstone, it started raining. At first half-melted bits of ice, beautiful in their shattered intricacies. A dazzling display. Soon after, from the point of view of Gods at the very least, dinostone feathers, adrift on the breeze, covering the lands in complex fossilized patterns. Lastly, the Aftershock. Traveling the world at the speed of ground , it rumbled, tussled and turned the soil to bring warmth and life wherever it passed. Thus a new cycle was established, and the Peoples of Oneder came to know of Change.
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Sep 7, 2023 22:33
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Abstain, only have negatives but like all these Wisp 3 - -
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Sep 7, 2023 22:36
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+1 Meteo Wisp Points: 2 Wisps Remaining: 0, -, -
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Sep 7, 2023 22:51
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Meteo seems a tad over the ideal threshold, in their attempt to create axial tilt as their penultimate action this Age. Rebalancing... -1 to Meteo (cancelling the +1 from Aabcehmu's vote to keep it at a nice nat 20) [ + - ] WisPoints: 10 -> 11
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Sep 7, 2023 23:39
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-1 hollow house
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Sep 8, 2023 00:08
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Lux Anima posted:-1 to Meteo (cancelling the +1 from Aabcehmu's vote to keep it at a nice nat 20) Boo! Nat 1s are driven into the ground, so nat 20s must be exalted (and their LPs with Yorkshire Tea watched, really enjoyed their last series on Dishonoured!) +1 Meteo. Haven't wisp'd this age, so +, 0, -, - remaining. Wisp points: 12.
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Sep 8, 2023 00:35
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Abstain +- Wisps 3
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Sep 11, 2023 11:24
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Abstain Wisp Points: 11 Wisps: - -
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Sep 11, 2023 11:55
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Abstain. Everyone has cool ideas and is rolling well.
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Sep 11, 2023 14:00
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Abstain -- WP: 15
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Sep 11, 2023 18:21
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Abstain seems to be the move. Wisps: 11 +-
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Sep 12, 2023 14:22
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One more bite. One more shell. One more name. The vultures take and take and take in the hopes (themselves stolen) that this will satisfy them, complete them. CONSUME: 1d10 5 The star says nothing, thinks nothing, and as the worms gnaw, is nothing. All that remains are godly bones staring up, up at the stars above. A gaze soon joined by its lesser, envious faithful. The gardens bounty was gone, but there were still worlds above to feast. And the guests were still so, so, hungry. quote:The Devouring Star is dead and gone.
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Sep 21, 2023 22:28
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Oneder was the place to be, for once. The Gods circled it eagerly as the Onderians tried vainly to grapple with the out of context problem that was the Twombian… invasion? If that’s what it was? They weren’t aggressive by any means, but they were strange, and they used strange tools and stranger magics. Not content to let the People attempt to sort things out in their own time, the God Tester-Of-Limits infused every Person on Oneder.  Immediately things got even more complicated than they already were as the mere act of glancing at eachother began to fill in strangely specific (and sometimes embarrassing or confusing) data. Nor was this effect limited to looking at others, as studying anything for long enough would trigger the effect. Luckily, for the most part it was minor, and given everything else going on it could be coped with, gotten used to. (PteraFactFill, the Dinosaur Magic of Discovery, has arrived! In higher tiers of mastery, it is an unparalleled diagnostic and discovery tool, but split across the countless People of Oneder it’s little more than a party trick. Still, the seed is planted for future generations…) The Hollow House, for its part, continued on its own inscrutable path. Its very strangeness drew yet more People to it, frightened refugees unable or unwilling to cope with the invasion. The House welcomes them, screening them for the qualities that would make for the best candidates. Those important People who would live on beyond the God-Mansion’s meagre lifespan… and further yet. In Its efforts, the God consumed the essence of the Idol Frozen-In-Glass, infusing its stagnant essence into the body of the the Hollow House. Those who stayed within its walls felt a chill draft, a deep cool damp that sank to their bones with uncanny affect. Though they did not know it, they were being Preserved - they would linger long, should they stay in the House. And the House wanted them to stay. (Frozen-In-Glass is consumed to cause the Hollow House’s inhabitants’ aging process to stop, keeping them eternally at the age they entered… until they move out. Oh, the effect will linger, but should someone leave the House’s protection for long…) Spaun Multibal barely cracked an eye when yet another God came down to offer Magics from beyond the Barrier. He just looked the divinity straight in the… center of it’s Holy energies and held out one scuffed silver hand. Neon threads coalesced from nothing and wove themselves into a neat ribbon of patterned fabric. Squinting down at it (and boosted by his PteraFactFill’s extremely excitable dweomer), he immediately understood what it meant - and what it could do for the world.  Leaping to his feet, he immediately launched himself towards the Flickerfare landing point and began to slowly, methodically, weave Neon Neutral Nets with Enenen and pass them to the invaders. The first message was a simple “welcome/why are you here/how did you get here/don’t kill us”, but soon Spaun’s role as translator would become much more than a hobby. (Spaun learns the Neon Magic of Communication, Enenen! Enenen is used to create Neon Neutral Nets, woven sheets, patterns, or tapestries of Neon that magically convey information much more effectively than just about anything else. Notably, they are not dependant on local languages, allowing for (simple, for now) communication between Onederians and Twombians!) A comet split the sky some weeks later, a blazing red streak that passed close enough to Oneder to strike the Mattockhorn and actually rotate the planetoid. The effects were catastrophic and immediate. The Mattockhorn held, but vicious cracks spread through its structure and great avalanches of Ice and Axe fragments rained down on the base of the mountain and savaged Haft-Upon-Mattockhorn. Terrified of future impacts or simply of the great Axe just falling outright, People fled towards Bigbox and southern settlements (or towards the nicely sturdy looking Hollow House). Earthquakes and tidal waves assaulted coastlines for days before they settled down.  More long term effects were not noticed at first, but strange winds and atmospheric currents were noted after some time. While Winter was known (or theorized) to magically pass between Oneder and Twomb on its own ineffable schedule, the mundane science of climatology would soon need to be rewritten to cope with the planet’s shift. But, frankly, it would have to go in the pile with the other issues - the comet looked like it was coming back! (Meteo gains +1 on future rolls, and gains an additional Specialty! Oneder is rotated by the impact, and tons of wacky weather conditions have cropped up because of it. Oneder has seasons now, apart from Winter where a bunch of Ice falls from the sky due to magical nonsense. This is seen as a terribly bad omen by all sorts of folks, but at very least it didn’t break the Flickerfare, which it could have without the Passe door-shortcut!) While the People of Twomb explored the new world, the deep seas of Ink thrashed and churned with the death throes of a God and its progeny. In a final gasp of power, the God gave a flicker of enlightenment to the mad creatures that had devoured its body, giving them just enough self to realize they could be more. The still-hungry beasts pushed at the boundary, flexing against the control of the Devouring One that guarded the Fractal Garden. The semi-divine thing that was much a part of the Garden as its warden looked fondly on its lower cousins, and while it did not allow them to escape, nor did it brook intrusion into the Garden itself.  The structures of the Ink People within the barrier were crushed by pressure and flooded with Ink and hungry spirits, and those foolish enough to have remained were consumed utterly. The mutant vultures of the deep Ink glutted themselves with the souls of the living and became something closer to Person than before. It wasn’t enough. They needed more. (DEVOURING STAR LOSES 1 HP AND PERISHES! A small percentage of the crazed beasts around the Garden are uplifted into the Lestattoo, vampiric creatures of great hunger and uncertain sanity. The more they eat, the saner they get… up to a point. They cannot leave the confines of the Garden, but the brave or stupid have gotten snatched.) Elsewhere in the Library, things went from bad to worse. The Avatar of Silence and Chaos grew ever more silent and ever more chaotic, spreading taint across the walls of Rinkjet. Concern grew into fear grew int ito grim resignation, but the Hero Gelid ever more Driven as the Avatar grew more distant. She had been created to end the thing an Age ago and she had said ready ever since, never quite lowering her guard.  In the days afterwards nobody could quite decide how it had started, but the end result was clear enough. The Avatar, dead or scattered, only a lingering stain in the Ice of the walls to speak of its years of service. The Hero, drained of color and body fragile as parchment, used up by the alien magics she channeled in their battle. The Library itself, their home for Ages, scarred by the fight. In the aftermath all anyone could talk about was the waste. Such a waste... And then they started to tidy up, silent as the grave. (NYL LOSES 1 HP AND GOES MAD! Gelid intercedes and perishes in the attempt! Nyl perishes! Rinkjet is permanently altered by the strange radiation of the felled Avatar…) 
Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 04:50 on Mar 21, 2024 |
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Oct 3, 2023 22:02
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Tester-Of-Limits, God of Experimentation There was one last limit to test. Not that of a God's life, that one had been tested extensively. The tragic end of Nyl, the implosion of the Devouring Star, salutary reminders that it generally wasn't worthwhile in the long run. No. There was a deeper mystery here, one that governed the fate of both worlds, and quite literally everything in them. When Pandora died prematurely, So, let's give them something to work with. Somewhere to learn, to understand, and eventually to master. Another project for the ages, this one to hopefully save their world and refortify the fundamental building blocks. Tester-Of-Limits got to work, raising up a new facility at the Onederian terminus of the Flickerfare. Composed equally and evenly of every element, it contained information on the causal link between lost deities and lost aspects, with representational pillars of each element inscribed with what they were and what they had lost, linked divinely to the state of the world itself, so that future changes would be conveyed, and what was lost could be understood. What was more, the link was in two directions: If the people of the worlds found a way to reverse a change, the pillars acted as a conduit, offering hope that the reversal could be universally propagated. (There was a safeguard against vandalism, the pillars absolutely could not be used to damage an aspect or element.) The information contained was inscribed in every sentient language, with a playable audio element, so that all peoples could learn here and work here. (The fact this offered a sample of every language with the same text, spoken and written, and the potential of that for translation and comprehension, was a useful and intended side-effect. This Symposium of the Elements was built strong and hardy, intended to last through any and all future ages, and to withstand cataclysms orders of magnitude greater than those caused by the Impact on the Mattockhorn, just in case. Since it was at the Onederian terminus of the Flickerfare, this reinforcement, it was hoped, would keep the connection open. Construct The Symposium of the Elements at the Onederian Flickerfare terminus, to pass on knowledge of the causal link between God Death and Attribute Loss in all languages, with a real time indicator of the aspects linked both ways with a vandalism safeguard to allow for potential future repairs by the locals, the whole structure including the Flickerfare terminus safeguarded against time and all disasters: 1d20 9
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Oct 3, 2023 23:26
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Throw in an almanac of the new seasons with your color-coded rosetta stonehenge and you've got yourself a deal! +1 to Tester-Of-Limits [ - ] WisPoints: 11 -> 12
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Oct 4, 2023 01:16
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Abstain Wisp Points: 3 Wisps Remaining: -, -
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Oct 4, 2023 05:58
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The Hollow House HP: 2/3 The Twombians arrive. All of Oneder is in disarray, and the meteor slamming the planet off of its axis does not help the People regain their calm. For a while. Days turn to weeks, weeks to months, and much like how the passing of seasons inevitably wears down a bitumen roof, so too does it wear down People's distrust and panic. It is winter when the bravest of Ondarians set foot on Twomb for the first time, and the first Twombians set up houses in Bigbox. Perhaps it is a small coincidence that, in the winter of my existence, I find an answer to the question of what it means to break. Trite as it may sound now, the answer is that it's not important. Gods, People, our ignorance of our place in the Ocean-- all things break. And yes, sometimes this has terrible consequences. But to live is to save the broken pieces and build something new. To live is to change. I still do not speak the tongue of my worshipers, and the hour is late. I shall pass soon, but not before I share what I've learned with those with the proper eye to read my words in the folds of my curtains, the color of my paints, and the curvature of my stairs. With the last of my power, I infuse my divine corpse to resonate with the needs and desires of my owner, so that I too may change forever. 1d20=9, magically infuse the mansion so it changes what rooms and furnishings it has depending on who the current owner is and what they need and want.
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Oct 5, 2023 18:54
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-1 Hollow House Well, you did say you were thinking about breaking. Let's help you out with that! Wisp: 4
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Oct 5, 2023 19:07
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+1 Tester-of-Limits Love the idea. Wisps: 12 -
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Oct 6, 2023 15:50
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