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| Ayanda's Armory; Idea storage before the numbers and logic come in | |
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| Topic Started: Jan 2 2017, 11:52 PM (963 Views) | |
| Nedben | Jan 2 2017, 11:52 PM Post #1 |
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Orzic Nedbens
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...Somewhere that might not be real, a smith-enchantress entered a sanctum of her own. Ornithorhynchus greeted Ayanda happily, the great demon-platypus watching the painter from its great burrow, greeted by a nod of acknowledgement in return. This place was shadowy at the entrance, but with proper amounts of lighting the closer one came to the workspace itself. A great long worktable, some good open space, a mess of toolboxes, and supplies. So many supplies, resources to build what needed to be built. And of course, a great mess of records amidst the equipment. Grimoires, some of the better magibrains around, a great assortment of things all present and ready. And by no means was she alone. Craftsmen and enchanters worked in tandem, putting together objects and imbuing them with psynergy and testing them out. Warriors and casters trained elsewhere, but not out of reach. The walls of the world thinned. Reality blurred unnoticeably. "Iris be with us." Ayanda muttered under her breath, getting to work. - Here I will post ideas before they are put in stats in a suspected future. Edited by Nedben, Jan 3 2017, 12:47 AM.
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| Nedben | Jan 3 2017, 12:48 AM Post #2 |
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Orzic Nedbens
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Soap. What? "It's traditional." the burly craftsman said to the students, strings of Mercury energy from his hands entering the psynergetically receptive bar, turning it from milky white to a soft light blue. "I mean, not too popular outside its home region until recently, but, y'know, who'd expect. Fats, oils, lye, some reactivity promoters, and the best part, wishes. A little bit but not too much more powdered psynergy material to make it work, and then bang! Right now I'm crafting a simple home model skilled Mercury adepts sometimes make for fun or in case of emergencies, a bit more for purging nasty conditions than serious healing, but enough to work for just about anything. Just gotta direct the spells into the properly crafted soap bar, and it'll take on the aspect of it, as noted by this coloration here." The bar went fully blue, starting to glow softly. "Ah, there we go. All charged." He held up the bar, examining it just to be sure. "When the bar's taken all the spell it can take, it'll glow like this, and despite being psynergetic it's sort of visible even to non-adepts, just way less brightly. With testing, you can determine how much needs to be broken off and used the same way a psynergy item is, or otherwise percussive force, but it's usually flexible enough to eyeball guessing by the size of the spell, still getting the same result as if you'd just cast it outright instead of hitting a strong psynergy absorber. Higher quality soaps can hold either considerably more charges or considerably stronger spells, but the components to do both are rarities, and expensive rarities at that." Grabbing a red marker, he divided the soap bar into roughly thirds. "Now, uh, this's kinda easy for a pro like me, it's really the soapmaking part that takes time, and it's cheap soap, so y'know. Gonna demonstrate the thing now." He gave himself a little papercut-like scratch with a nearby knife before setting it aside, then broke off one of the marked endpieces of the soap bar and threw the chunk at the floor, causing it to explode into foamy bubbles and psynergy light, which wrapped around him and the students for a moment, a refreshing wave of light that was overkill but definitely fixed the wound without a hitch. "See, that's a good strong cleansing wish, same as if I'd just rained on the place myself." He gestured as the last few bubbles and light disappeared from relevance, then repeated the hardly-cut and in a flash of blue did the same spell himself, again washing the place in restorative Mercury energies to fix the minor injury, then swigged from a bottle of ginseng tea mixed with Khiren water next to the knife to replenish the wasted energy. "Now, uh, the big point of soaps is to be a reliable multi-use and more powerful alternative to single-use consumables without going for full-blown sometimes easily broken psynergy equipment, especially for freelancers who can't rely on psynergy equipment without a built-in energy supply and trigger. We've got plenty of well-crafted spellsoaps in the compound gift shop, great gifts for your friends and or enemies, depending on the psynergy charged with. Feel free to visit at the end of the tour, and buy something to keep us in business." Edited by Nedben, Jan 3 2017, 12:55 AM.
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| Nedben | Jan 3 2017, 06:46 AM Post #3 |
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Orzic Nedbens
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"SONNY!" a Mercury djinn shouted at three other djinni, waving around a cane."AND THAT'S WHY-" He noticed Ayanda was standing there. "Sorry ma'am." the quartet went. "It's fine." she said briskly. "Lake, I need you to write a report on merpeople for newbies. General concept explanation should be fine. Stone, I need a similar report, but for djinn diets, emphasis on potato chips. Radiance, another report, but for psygun mental reserves. Bar, same thing but for punch ant colonies." Spirits could be rowdy sometimes, and the fact that djinn could be talked to by non-specialists somehow made them worse instead of better with how they kept distracting others. It was kinda sad. But they were knowledgeable. Fundamental insight into their little piece of concept. Great demons had culture, but were prone to force and somehow still as much flippancy. Ayanda sighed with matching impatience. It was time to ask one for its spell list in hopes of a breakthrough in spell development, seeing as every one found so far had almost an entirely different method of weaving its psynergy than the guardian traditions' natural development, even accounting for the massive changes of personal style. She left behind the now occupied djinni, leaving for the fortified chamber referred to as the summons room. "Is the guard ready?" she asked a nearby security adept at the gate, a heavily armored young lady. "Dullahan's here and all?" "Everyone not held back in case of emergency is here, same as always." the guard said, adjusting her helmet uncomfortably. "Even the freelancers, had to make some goggles of revealing extra." Ayanda sighed, but with relief this time. They had it outnumbered, whatever Cynthia the inscrutable had planned. Hopefully even outgunned. She entered the chamber, only mildly worried of the great dullahan that would be their big striker if things went wrong. The beast of magic and armor headlessly watched her, arguably from its chest, awaiting commands to battle with fulminous strikes whatever would arise when the glyphs went down. And many were already down. Thousands of them, big and small, letters of tablets to convey the right and rows of live djinn and crystals of stored power. One of the guards handed her a letter of instruction, the thing she was trying to call up. One of the Valkyries, a bit simpler fare than she'd usually do. Runics were fairly simple, power level so low she'd only need a fraction of the djinn nested, nevermind the crystals. The security was more in case of the called being panicking into unbinding itself, and ending up fighting the deific might of a full summon-level entity...well, let's just say that after Poseidon was called in one day for more than a moment to see if he'd gotten any better after being killed, things got messy and Dullahan was there for a reason, to say nothing of an Ankohl-esque trident. The sorceress composed herself, grabbing a handful of spell-sand exactly for bigger summonings from a pouch, and began to cast, gently directing it into the necessary conductive lanes to channel so much psynergy through. ...[to be continued blah] [wait now I'm back okay let's finish] "<Fólkvangr, Sessrúmnir and Valhalla, hear my plea!>" she droned in heavily accented jenei longform, mostly to be dramatic, "<Dísir of the south, psychopomp of frost, thunder, mead, horse, earthly war and fire! Descend to this Weyard!>" That music that always played when these things were called obligatorily played. Ayanda was pretty sure it was the horse making that noise at this point or something, considering how often the loud parts were accompanied with whinnying as the sand stirred up into a tornado and the walls of reality began to bend and melt. In a flash of golden light, a clap of thunder as space and time realigned air and sand out of the way of a suddenly present mass, and a battle cry (coupled with one final rude whinny from the musical horse of doom), the sand fell to the ground and a mounted warlady emerged, with gold-decorated plate helm and mythril-coated armor, the white horse clad in similar garb. The entire room except for Ayanda, a few of the sillier djinn, and the summon herself tensed up, the horse and the dullahan's chest eyeing each other in a mutual mix of fear and anger, the horse at the electrified sword in a defensive position and the dullahan at the golden decoration, though both did not move beyond readying. "Well, what do you want?" the valkyrie said in perfectly modern language. "I don't see any corpses or free souls to ferry." "I want potato chips." a Mars djinni shouted from the power source rows. Everyone in the room, horse, dullahan, summoner, and summoned included, turned to stare at the djinni in question. A mix of emotions washed over the room. Irritation from the majority on such a flippant claim. Apologetic tense 'um' from the four big fighters. Confusion, from quite a few people who had no idea what that was all about. Smiles of happiness for quite a few djinn who did indeed want some potato chips. An idea struck."I can get you some dead bodies if you want!" the djinni said helpfully. Apologetic tense 'um' spread to everyone else, again excepting a few of the djinn.One of the freelancers shrugged and tossed an unfinished bag of potato chips at the problematic Mars djinni in question, resolving the incident. "Huh." the valkyrie went. "Now, uh..." Confusion was so powerful it almost hung over her head like a speech bubble in a comic."What am I here for again?" "Spellcrafting assistance." Ayanda said, facepalming at the moment of epicness being shattered like it had been hit by a Carpet Bomb psynergy. "Let's just get this over with." See into the past. The valkyrie had touched a sister disir, a norn, across dimensions, and shared this secret of Mercury. The water that could see into the past. She had built this well-like thing with a tear stone like formation in it, with three equidistant points of channeling stone around it. One with a Venus-charged crystal. Another with Mars. The last with Jupiter. These were 'not strictly necessary in replication, but improved power and reduced cost' according to the manufacturer, whose norse arts were arcane even for the arcane but were worked out and written down eventually as much as could before sending the summon home. Above the well hovered a sphere of Mercury energy, ice and vapor shifting around in a ball of water with a heart of shattered ice crystals, ringed by shifting fogs. The 'oracle' of the past. A scrying engine that unlike Jupiter seers who read the future, read that which had already happened. A few adepts fed it psynergy and operated magibrains connected to it, providing power, making it peer into the past and recording it, figuring out how to find data of different kinds and detect its output. Soon, soon even time itself would not be able to hide mysteries. How it saw was miraculous. Raw scrying power, coupled with a massive weirding of reading the histories of each element. Seeing into the past had its uses. To recover history. To provide evidence. To provide battlefield news of 'this just happened'. Mercurians who used this power of scrying as an ordinary psynergy were known as the False Prophets, for their prophecy only worked as a prophecy if they saw something right as or after it happened and told of it before news reached from the place of its happening, though besides seeing the recent past at a distance it was usually only good for reading vague histories of water and where it had been. Mercury, the symbiote of Jupiter, seer of the future, would see into the past as its match. Other elements could read the past too. Histories of earth, leftover heat and aftermath of flames, scent-trails and wind-changes...but water held the past in itself, and caressed the others to learn of them. Contaminant earth. Water born in the aftermath of fire and carried in the wind. This was the past of the world, data stored in nothingness and everything. Not that it could be affected. It was impenetrable, one-way. Even watching the past like this was solely to gather data, reading the history of reality itself in masterful analysis. It was a far more precise art than seeing the future, vulnerable as that was to intervention. Edited by Nedben, Jan 9 2017, 04:55 AM.
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| Nedben | Jan 26 2017, 12:14 AM Post #4 |
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Orzic Nedbens
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Continuity simmered. The sigilcrafter bent and blurred a formulaic sand, twisting the second and third or so layers of depth. Alchemical light diverted around a lunar pillar, crackling into lightning, jewels, and other things, raining elements around this hovering umbrella to create a space of otherworldly shade. Coming when called, the demons of other stories arose from the shade, the way you might find a creepypasta in a gaming bin or a customer across the counter. One realized the formography of a man with brown hair and green-glowing eyes in a dark yet limey green blacksmith's uniform, the apron stained with the ideograil of the perversion of stories, a broken window whose break was bore. It flicked away the shadows of its extracanonical bearer and sat in a suddenly extant lacy iron chair at the table-like pillar of abyssal incongruity, staring Ayanda in the eyes. "Kevin again?" the witch said, unperturbed by the fact she was dabbling in the most apocalyptic and eldritch of magics, those that broke the world-structure and invited outer things. "You keep using that finger-echo." The man shrugged, then leaned on the table. "He's convenient and reminds me of an ideal form without being too mistaken for my pawn here. Would you rather I use Julie?" A woman who looked like Yang Xiao Long but with blue eyes and a much more worrying personality flickered into existence, grabbing the table for support, then spoke, eyes obscured in golden locks of hair. "I prefer not to malign the architectural of that formography. The words even feel wrong coming from her mouth. And this one reeks of destruction waiting to be expressed." "Fair point." Ayanda said. "You may dismiss the cannibal and keep the speaker." The yellow-haired woman flickered back out, and the form of the knight-now-smith-and-obeyer sat up straight and crossed his arms, staring the witch in the eye. "So, let's get to the point. Realms of shadow, a hint of retcon." "Aware. How would you like to contribute to the weaving of the story?" "This is self-dialectical and you know it." "So bring in external parties that you don't fully control. That's what the project's for, right?" "Not sure. Grave eclipses and invaders of shadow are enough to conflate naturally. Grace is not something we hold well all the time." "I don't understand the theory. Can't, puppet, remember?" "Right. Query rephrasement for both of us." The witch shrugged. "The people of shadows and mimicry. Edit reality as you usually do or check the logs if it's already been done. Then, of course, tell me everything." A teacup appeared that the man could sip from it, filled with warm anise seed tea with honey. The sip was contemplative. "A moment." The man glanced into the umbrella above him, but the controller of that man was looking at something else. Words, underpinning existence. Void, void, and many other voids voided voids, themselves and others. Nullification nullified, existence happened. An act of theft to address an act of creation. A people from an ideology (another stolen metaphorical echo, but from another dream and dreamer than other thefts). "Let us hide them behind the Tuaparang and the fundament-to-skinning of gravest eclipses and mourning moons of vortices." he said. "Acceptable, to the last." she said. "This negotiation will be written somewhat different in final execution..." "The fourth wall's supposed to be impenetrable, of course. Or at least less flagrantly what the hell, for this layer at least." "Good...I await your remaking. See you again soon and out-of-canon. Let's see if this revisionism sticks." The man set down his teacup and the world was different in a frame. Instead of a demon god, Ayanda had this time called a shadowman of the void. The void shadow's starry eyes looked at her. The "Sing me the song of your people." she requested sarcastically. To no-one's surprise, the shadowfolk complied, drawing from hammerspace a small psynergy item stone that became a guitar of jupiter psynergy, an Air Guitar. He strummed it a bit and began to sing. (The tune reminds me of Ragnar the Red but I don't know what it is) "For we of the people of outside the edge Fought gallantly 'til before the beginning and after the end 'Midst demons and voidkings and all sorts of things We towered and mimicked and powerfly-leaved til chaos and silvershades tore open the wheel in sunlight and eclipse did the gates open pour..." The song picked up. The shadowfolk were creatures from Weyard's sidereal shadows, people who absorbed light except for their sometimes luminescent white eyes, in a quirk of reality. They were talented at the psynergy of obfuscation and changes of form, and the mysteries with which to ride as portable silhouettes for others. The psynergy vortices in the wake of the Golden Sun event had torn reality enough for them to invade Much later. "MHEIZOA." the mass of dark green-tinted tentacles whisper-shouted in a way that defied sound, crystalline artifact-squares in dark rainbows hovering to hide the darkness containing the path-mass limitgate. "What are we here for? Lamuel..." It made a noise resembling a neck-crick, despite its present bones not making sense for that. It tapped the glassy walls of the world that kept it for the most part out of reality, the way a human would to make sound and provoke the fish, its present tentacles shudder-vibrating in unison with the sound of tapped glass unbroken (but in this case, for momentary quasireal hole). "It...it seems familiar." Edgar said. "Gaap's light, it's so strong in my head-" A piece of epidote in one of the binding columns rotated and suddenly emitted a pulse of water just enough to overflow the container, spilling a little bit on the floor and causing some of the psynergetic sand runes on it to disperse. "Resonation field's pretty strong." Ayanda said, waving Edgar back a few steps past another few layers of warding sigils, a notion with which he immediately complied. "Back out, mindwall accordingly. We don't want the things interested in you to push out this guy." "Better from back here." he said, the gold and teal and terrors beyond stars less self-connected. "Fhtagn." the being recommended, crossing a pair of tentacles to resemble crossed arms. "That one is only mostly asleep here, the more the better for the world-flickers." "Was what destroyed the last few towns something like him?" Ayanda asked, sponging up the water and replacing the damaged security runes, grateful her current informant had not decided to take advantage of the weakness, or perhaps that it had not been enough for 'him' to overstep the boundaries regardless. "No." the thing said. "That thing incarnated...Is not like the others. The others are kept at bay by walls. That one is already here. Like her, the fiery. Your calls in the untimes are bent and hidden by shadow, but for how long will grace unheld tickle fancy?" Edgar seemed to zone out, overtaken by...nothing? Himself? Whatever. "You're lucky the churches don't think this is even remotely a focus of investigation. Those things nip, and Beasts are felled or discorporated or out-shunted and many other things." The tentacles gestured shrugs and arm-waves. A few eyes squirmed their ways just enough out of unnatural darkness to corroborate mystic senses with a second more physical grasp of the light. "I am too much alerting." the being said. "I should go, in case it passes a threshold. Consider this summon concluded. Call me later, without him here." "Acknowledged." the painter of sands said back. The eyes and tentacles withdrew with a sound of gnashing and flesh shifting, and the sphere of darkness compressed to a smaller sphere and faded away into normal space. Edgar seemed to stir. "So, the others were right." the witch mused. "You're weird. Very weird." "Huh?" Edgar said, too aligned to something. "I don't get it." "Think here, focus here. Now." Ayanda ordered, waving a signal spell in front of Edgar's face. Edgar's mind returned to clarity rather than too much awareness. "Better." "It's a trick against minor...messes." the witch said. "Thinking yourself to here and now and you and not everything else, and line your spells accordingly so they'll saw out the enchantment links. Learned it from one of them." "I..." [to be continued] Edited by Nedben, Feb 17 2017, 08:35 PM.
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| Nedben | Feb 17 2017, 11:50 PM Post #5 |
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... The dullahan faced down the purple-cloaked skeleton man. Fulminous edge against the reaping scythe of earth. It was bloody fast. Red arcs of instant death surged far faster than it was meant for, but its cuts were not as lethal as they could have been. A great enough life simply didn't die when killed, and beasts of death fighting were not easily stopped. This was not time for the ritual defense of the tablet of Iris. With the might of Charon, he- Whoops, wrong narrative. Uh, let's see.... A giant's mythril pizza cutter fell from the sky and- Okay that's just no. Julie Lamarck equipped her alchemized Em- wrong again... The great red demon of Greendragonsville blared megalov- No. Judgement fired his shieldcannon at the city below, annihilating it in a blast that could fell legendary monsters from miles away. Wait, I thought he didn't do that anymore. Okay all the narratives are off today who's changing the- Oh. That's why. Maurice and Peggy flipped through channels on the great history-scrying engine from a couch pulled up to the main terminal where Atteson wrote piles of notes, looking at random mishaps throughout the void-song aether-static and more mundanely the Weyard alchemical wars. "You ever wonder what the hell those monks kill with?" Peggy mused. "Once or twice." Maurice said with a shrug. "I think they use the Force and some kung fu?" Atteson said. "Yeah, that was it. They used the martial arts force, and like...ninja blasts. Or was that from another universe?" Peggy pondered. "We do have one of the most powerful history-viewing machines known to man right in front of us." Maurice said. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Peggy shot back with a grin. "It's time for even more cheap entertainment." Atteson said bluntly. "I'll go recalibrate the coordinates." - The past. A temple somewhere, during the alchemy wars. The sky was a very negative purple and periodically punctured by djinn shooting each other like warplanes. A lone monk, an old balding man with a great white beard dressed in a red robe decorated with subtle psynergy runes, meditated on a bright orange mat. Judgement shot the building, causing it to massively explode in Venus. The man merely enveloped himself in fire and endured the wrath of the gods without injury. Even his elemental symbiote expressed as pure violence was little war to a hermit who had mastered Mars on this level. He raised a hand and let a rosy red blossom of fire envelop him in its petals, as he burned through space. Immediately, he was above and behind Judgement. A swift kick to the neck of the armored god, with a sickening crunch. The man remained floating. Judgement did not, falling to the ground. And returned with a vengeance. Catastrophe, the second form. A flurry of blades- Met with an even faster barrage of fists. Mars deposits began to coat the blade-armor of the demonized god and- One last flick. Boom. - "So that's what monks fight with." Atteson said in awe. "Remind me never to pick fights with monks again." Peggy said. "That's totally not representative." Maurice said. "Go find another one." |
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| Delfes | Feb 22 2017, 01:03 AM Post #6 |
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Regular Adept #18
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Okay, now I can't unsee jupiter djinn shaped fighter jets dogfighting while venus djinn shaped tanks with a large cannon coming out of the middle of their face drive below them. |
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| Nedben | Feb 22 2017, 04:14 AM Post #7 |
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Let's do that, I'll go coax Nedben a lil. - "Weaving arbitration frame." Maurice muttered. Strings. The Venus djinn let them wrap around it, slowly carrying it into the air of the dull arena, a few other djinn watching with rapt attention. "You want that snug for a heavy or loose for a light?" the Mercurian said, waving his hands around arcanely as if conducting an orchestra of invisible psychic spiders, except the spinnerets were icy jewels under his power, and the thread was made of a bizzare fluid of powdered psynergy stone in warm bent water, bubbling with strands of forced air, a weird gel more endurant than his usual water-heat-motion-cold tricks, but not as specialist as full-blown wire. Real invisible psychic spiders would have a bit more autonomy, but it was easier to just handwave it yourself than waste time passing complex concepts spider to spider until they figured out what you wanted done and then were coaxed into doing it for you. "Go for heavy." the djinni said, wiggling its ears and enjoying the projection finesse afforded by strands. "Like it snug, blankety." "Operating." With a wave, a bit more energy was charged, adding a bit more fluid, thickening the wires and widening mesh-gels. This was no mere mecha-armor, it was the skeleton of a full armored vehicle around one little beastly psynergetic soul. "Alright, frame's in place. Your move." A surging of Venus. Stone plates formed from yellowy-brown energy, a heavy shuffle of treads, and...It was done. It belched, and from a formed overshell's mouth spat the barrel of a great cannon, readying. "BEING A TANK IS FUN." it bellowed. "MAINTAINABLE UNTIL PERCUSSIVE FORCE OTHERWISE!" Blowing on the barrel as if it was a straw, it fired a spit bolt of Venus psynergy into the sky, which promptly hit a nearby cloud and exploded into a bunch of falling rocks which rained conveniently back onto the battlefield. Maurice sighed and topped up his dwindling psynergy reserves with a swig of ginseng'd Khiren water. "Alright kids and elders." he said to the small assembled mass of spirits great, moderate, and minor before him, "now, the best way to drive one of these things is to exploit the fact you're a walking pile of psynergy. Direct your shedded-self energy into the wiring, all you have to spare. Give it your all like a sustained unleash, those of you whose unleashes are effects with duration or who cast lasting psynergies know what you want out of this-no, I suppose fire made of swords counts if they're reliant on concentration manifest, uh, but go for maintained control and sustained manifest, healers and shielders will know what I'm talking about here more intuitively, intercommunicate. Panel your element into a form that's strong but not too weighty to mess up your goal projection while still being bigger and stronger than you can normally carry unaided, because you've got aid from wiring environment. Play to your strengths as a djinni, both elementally and conceptually; pretty much everybody's a different tanker, some better than others. Most Jupiters are better fliers than some others and so go for big bird soarwing-like or airship-y forms, most Venusians go for heavy tanks, Mercuries like boat-forms or fishy stuff, and Martians go all draconic firespitters. If you break stereotype, good, unexpected elemental directions play merry hell on some shield types who resist some things better than others." A wispy cloud of more-or-less-sentient spiritual energy, not quite what one could call djinni-level but similarly attracted to the area, buzzed a sequence of emotions and concepts that felt across as 'hello, can I try?' 'Apologies, complex concept, energy cost.' Maurice conveyed back. 'Maybe when you get bigger-solider-djinni-er'. The cloud conveyed 'nodding, acceptance, vague desire to understand self and so grow in power' and wandered off as abruptly as it came. "Uh, yeah, what I just buzzed." Maurice continued more mundanely. "Smaller spirit-types usually don't have the right degree of power or concept focus to properly operate a tankframe without some other kind of aid. Tanking's kinda expensive both in material setup and is kinda full-effort on your psynergy manifest, so without tools you're gonna sorta be a low-number-of-functions vehicle while you're operating a tank frame, even if you can keep it up fairly long otherwise. If the wires still gel solidly in place, it should be reusable if you get forced out by means other than your frame being blown up, or decide to quit it and fly free. I mean this is kinda experimental recovered technology and it was from pretty crazy parts in the Alchemy Wars when stuff was going way nonsensical eldritch before the sealing killed a boatload of people and nullminded and nullspaced like a ton of ruins, so we're working with what we can recover from scries of teaching people how this was made in locations not scry-resistant enough to block us from casual reading. Guess we'll find out together, heh." Edited by Nedben, Feb 25 2017, 12:16 AM.
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| Nedben | Feb 28 2017, 03:24 AM Post #8 |
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Orzic Nedbens
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A land in shadows, epheremal grey with bits of brown, with bits of blue and green and red. Probably not the reverse side of the world. Outside it, sure. It was here that Purple Quartz lingered, returned to this place of edges and pocket-planes. "This it?" he said, talking to things more powerful than he was. Men and women and weird things, nebulously there and not-there, watching this local native. "Looks like a normal patch of shadowland." "I'll deal with it, I'll deal with it." a man with short brown hair and unrealistically blue eyes dressed in blue chainmail said. "Our master's kinda lazy." The interloper raised a hand, and a green triangle of Ciel's otherworldly magics cut space, time, and narrative. "Pomf." he said. "There's ya castle." Then he disappeared back into the nebulous crowd of observers, as the nebulous fog of distance lifted for a moment to reveal....a purple arrow pointing back at behind him, which disappeared into butterflies that disappeared into nothing. "What." Quartz said, turning around to- Holy. A great burgundy darkwood circular-ish gate of a purple-walled castle, with maroon roofing. Asian style, untouched since...who even knew. "Thought since you were the new king you might like it." a snow-white woman dressed in institutional white said, eyes splashes of purple and oblivion vantablack. "This is the Cloaked Castle. Or rather, one of its branch-bodies we were able to find. It's grown, and stealthily." Kaguya Fresleven raised her paired blades on a gnarled brown vine to assist in gesturing at the implicitly massive extent of the sorta-living-sorta-not fortress, then continued speaking. "Look and see the miracles of alchemy and her sister worlds." The gates opened, untouched except for the unseen servant-telekinesis-foci of the building itself, acknowledging a new master. "Cheating for you is easy out here." whispered a short brown-haired girl in a pink kimono who smelled strongly of chestnut. "It's inside the world aiding grows difficult. Thick walls, sleepy hands. You own this place now. See what she can do." The slew of proxies withdrew. Irene emerged from the grey and eigengrau fog of nowhere, looking at the gatehouse hall. A lady dressed in grey technician's robes, white hair in twintails. "This our new base of operations?" she asked, already knowing the answer. "Yeah, huh..." Purple Quartz said, still unsure of his benefactor's motives. "Looks like we're not only winning, we're winning big, huh." - And they were winning. Even if it was mostly other things in the dark tricking people into portalmaking and pacts, every momentary perforation in the walls of the world made their job the tiniest bit easier. The fact that the churches were struggling a bit harder than usual to keep them out...now that was good for them, if at the risk of another party moving first. Their fingers could regrow fast, but for the defending team, death meant death. Little abberations did the hard work, little proxies and projections and pawns were puppeted into making their waltz just a little bit easier...hammer at the glass again and again, and one day it might crack, then break altogether. Lyse the cell, or more realistically, reset the gameboard for a new fun game. Cut, cut, and with popular cultists. The things beyond understanding stopped even pretending to make sense, singing their arcane song in alien instrument-voices in the depths of distant fog, while a shadow and an expatriate looked through the fortress-temples of old. Old treasure, old tools, old furniture...the supplies had been courteously replaced by a number of enchantments, the ravaging flow of time slowed more to a touchy-feely crawl. Used, but still good as new-ish. The Cloaked Castle had been grown an excessively long time ago, by great sorcerer-adepts and a few old powers who'd surfaced for bits and pieces in the times before the alchemy wars, more to watch than to interfere. It had been blasted out of the world during that war, but what was left was still enough to grow back out here. Fortresses in the world laid to ruin by the wrath of summoned gods and alchemical siege, an outpost-web in this land of shadowfolk and rampant outer things had regrown from structural heart-hearth-roots. But it had been empty, for the people who ruled it died with its surface towers, for the most part inert and masterless, until now. It was a hard work of mind-domination for many puppets, but they had finally persuaded the architectural beast to take a new ruler and new purpose, purple halls for a purple quartz master. This would be the new throne for a new master, a lord of territory, queen or king. Its growth now directed, it would soon become a thriving city...had he the people to put in it. The shadowfolk were a numerous people, but a disunified one. Their previous incursions on their own direction had failed, put down by surprisingly concerted efforts of the forces of justice and light. By nature they tended to split between fun-loving trickster-rovers or broody masters of the dark who cared little for the outside world, and neither of those was rather good at coordination of masses invasive or otherwise, and much ruled by neighboring creatures such as demons and outer things as they were they'd never been before enough to turn the tides of the spiritual battle. "Enough narration." Quartz snapped, seated on a throne bejeweled with his namesake gemstone. "How do I drive this thing, huh?" A telepathic noise from the great mess of enchantments grown with the castle whispered to him the secrets of directed construction that had lain fallow for generations. "Oh, huh..." Two words that understated deep truths. |
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| Nedben | Mar 5 2017, 12:03 AM Post #9 |
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Orzic Nedbens
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...Somewhere that questionably qualified as 'reality', a man who wrote atrocities into existence manifested a piece of himself. Psych One's Fortress. Orochi's Marvelous Quickened Tesselate. Mass Permanency, Delayed/Extendtargetcasting. Go. Narrators in colors whispered among squidly powers beyond the glass games of the walls of the world, and were kinda bored. So this is your plan to break open a tiny little bubble? Oh for the love of...Iael. We are conquering by writ, not by smash. Less aggressive negative possibilityspaces out of our metaphorical reach that way. Simpler words. I get you as parasite. Readers will not. No. Let's go to hell. I could fear you if that was in actual. We are visiting planes, not life-life. Tamar's Dominion. Osphoru's Originator Citadel. Castiglioni's Furnishings. Sannon's Damning Truths. Too afraid of the Ur-Mom's wordswords still? The spell was for my goals, not you. Genesis Utopia. Beyyat Runes. Luck's Mercy. Growthbone. Power-raise. Deadliving. Chitose Victoria's Batch File. Nike's Bar-Folk. Old invoking. Demetra's Email. Humorwoman's Hierarchy. Dictionary Infernal. Disco Inferno. Disc of Disco. Readingsight. Archbeyyat. Capslocky stone. Sanctus beyyat. Are you done scenesetting yet? The thing continued to speak powers by names, leaving a club of follower-gods lead by she whose voice is rain, in a netherworld with hot symbiote of alchemy dancing with cold. Hephaestus' Variant Lamia. Obsidian Zombieslaying Towers. Stone of Spirit. Less extracanonical. Slightly. Spiritual things howled with emotional turmoil beyond man's telling. The windswept caverns ached, but the beastwoman avatar of the swirling tentacles of the emerald eye sought onward, obsidian staff crackling shimmering moment-rainbows in the helldust as she forged her way to the palace, wanderer of hellscapes. Floating flames wandered aimlessly above, the sky itself on fire in many places. Brick-burnt clays and ash-filled dust ceded to a place of relatively harmless warmth rather than searing heat, then to a moderate chill in the palace of a watery aerbeast. The edge of hot and cold, and of earth and air, was a suitably cool place, in many ways. The place was fenced with hellish metals, decorated by living vines of razor-leaved metal-fleshed plants whose flowers were spikes and war. She merely walked further around, coming soon to the gatehouse. A red-skinned brute with the horns of a ram unsealed the lacy irons, and let pass a familiar visitor. "Gaap." requested the meowing rainfall and the authority of a queen of people who had revived from the deposed. "Present." acknowledged an emergence of glimmering ice that shattered to reveal the proxy maiden of the demon in question. "Got another dress and a new deal?" "Of course." Iael said, taking on a chatty conversational tone. "Sister, I went to Umbranada weavers special for this. Getting the heliotrope and gold trim spheres you wanted as floater bells took a bit of personal design to get the hover sparkles in it right, but I hope it's original enough." "Plenty." Gaap answered thankfully, conjuring a siren to wheel the case of her new prize in from a portal where it landed from, taking an attached paper and reading her new commands. "Alright, so we're gonna be a bit more active on the wayward Weyard in alpha. I like it, I like it, just need a conjurer to push and pull in." "Can do." the lady said. "Just gimme a moment to write up a pawn, I'll raise the other world's elemental force just enough to let you send in yours." Pain. Pain was the inherent marker of the worlds of Hell. It was that the world was sick, off, wrong...naturally inhospitable to those who were not meant to inhabit it. It lightened in some places, and that was where demons built cities. It worsened in others, and that was where spirits living and dead roamed wildly, warring amongst each other in bursts of psychic fear-aggression. A perpetual sea of lashing out, occasionally punctured by the strongholds of those who fought for their own goals and had success. Mostly mazes of the elements, zones controlled by one or the other, radiated from other worlds and their own sources embedded throughout the world. It was here the latest trick in the webs to take over the world would begin. ISHTAR-E to raise minions. LAUREL-L to awaken the goal. Should the goal's local body die first...HEMERA-D to burn everything, and ASMODEUS-Q to truly rain the worst. Strange names for foreign and familiar things. It was for this- The light of 'Protection from Elements.' Resistances boost with a side of general environmental safety. -that the demons and devils were called up. Bulky things with horns for the most part, masters of Venus for their Martian environment, with whispers of Mercury and Jupiter every so often. They slipped through reality on their own force in regions with as high alchemical force as their homes, or when called by conjurers through producing that force to make it present, or dragged as such. "AKA-MANAH." declared Gaap, calling for the troops of those who would break earth. Bountiful Bomb. An alchemy weapon that suffused the world with golden light and let the things of other worlds slip through. A pillar of golden light that stretched between worlds, the mushroom cloud of a blast in multiple realities. The feminine aspect of one of 72 classic demons let her legions storm the veil, and with a swift kick from a stiletto heel cracked the glass in another face just enough to work out her entry later. Soon. An irrelevant patch of the world somewhere had been claimed in a single blitzkrieg. It was one of many outposts that would be created, in the long long quest to take over the world. Edited by Nedben, Mar 5 2017, 02:37 AM.
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| Nedben | Mar 7 2017, 04:00 AM Post #10 |
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Project ISHTAR-E, you are cleared to launch tarot system through identified infection vector, stand-ing by for Kaen region spy djinn results, arbitrate and detect source at leisure. "Did you just make a pun?" the engine-goddess-thing inquired as it did things that could not be explained properly and yes I did in fact make a pun. "Okay then, not gonna question it....but I've got other questions." Shoot, sea of rainbows and war-dancing. "How do I actually write it though." Facepalm. The unspeakable mess manifested a gigantic, long, elegant womanly face and a great hand made of steampunk and psychic force in an attempt to achieve comprehension of its task, and let them meet to push many things into the world. Cards, rituals, arrows, energies, wandering spirits, through timeless into time, a kiss into one's own palm to be blown through a bubble already blown meant to be blown up. Uh, not what I meant, but it works. "You said so." Only because I wasn't clear about action versus statement versus imperative! ...Whatever. Themes of infinity space. A story about punching people in the face with souls that lasted through vampire murder and family lines and a world reset many times with ancient men on Mars. A story about traveling timelines and dreams with allies of archetypic legend. Stories of war-pets that almost belonged, and those that did. The form of one whispered into the mind of one outside present. "One already did it. It is not difficult. The wall is not hard..." Slippery gas-liquids dancing through unnatural could-bes. Where was the entrance? Slippery, slippery...burst souls reforming. Points where abberations and devils had wandered through, some regrown, some not yet. The weave of glassy worldwall gummy-gel torn, but where? It jumped in unspeakable ways, as did she. Kthunk. Chitter-chatter, whisp, fall, clatter. Kthunk. Kthunk. Kthunk. Whisk. Clatter. Pichuun. On it happened, and so it did again and again. Arrows through arrow-slits, projectiles through murder holes. Manifest metaphor. The glass was hard, but easily slipped. "Raise minions." she said, restating her purpose. "Let them be raised. I stand with you, Obeyer." The king in green with spears in heart and knives in head laughed a little, happy for his piece-self to awake one day through a dream of teal and a grimoire from a sad ending. How will it manifest? "I do not know yet. That is up to the writers." Claws time rage silvery thunder Kthunk. "Where'd this arrow come from?" asked the man to the sky, reading the note attached. STAND TAROT HELPING GHOST HELPER SERVANT CUT LIGHTLY TO GRANT TREAT BY MAGIC GAIN MORE MAGIC CALL ISHTAR-E FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTION YOU WILL KNOW HOW "I will recycle tales." ISHTAR-E said. "I can marshal our forces inside and out, just give me time." It is granted; how will you tempt? "It is a matter of who will take and who will join me slash us. I will let them come and wonder what happened. I grant and will know, like Richard before me." Speaking of him, where is he? Hi. Tone down the eyeburn, for crying out loud. "Fine." said he who came for an instance of Alex. "Accepted." Heaven and time. Artistry in meta-world, poetic nonsensical. "So's this the new gameboard? One or two down from real, with other lives than our native king?" the traitor mused. Correctly, even. "Wow, I might even get my buds in on this. I'll set up a tearoom. You guys mind?" Not necessary. I...someone...A certain Purple Quartz has graciously been granted the assets to host. Thank beyyat, it was getting OSLT 2 up in this business. It still kinda is. Scene changing now. Instantly, a tearoom-like space, but with a living room's furnishings. Oriental, heavy on the dark red wood decor on purple walls, with a dash of European in the center itself with a clashy green rug. Cushy dark burgundy red chairs, of which one Iael no Sage has claimed in her catgirl form to lounge luxuriously in and relax. Richard claims another, sitting on edge and waiting for tea, texting his boyfriend. Purple Quartz enters with a pre-prepared tea set, setting the great silver tray covered in it on an oaken coffee table. ISHTAR-E manifests as a rainbow fog with the face and hand from before in human proportions, then manifests a matching other-hand, shoulder-length messy brownish-black hair, and a body to match her face's moderately peaches-and-cream, robed in a steely-blue kimono, taking the first cup of tea. Then Richard took one, and with disdain thus did Iael. "Nice room you've got here." Iael complimented, trying to cover for her obvious disinterest, though not enough to actually hide said disinterest. "As good a witches' smoking room purgaturio as any. Maybe not the best I've ever been in, but it's got charm and creature comfort enough." "Less beige than the old narrator box." Richard seconded, if a bit more invested than the cat of sages. "I'll look forward to interfering with you all. Let old murder-friends be old murder-friends." "Amen to that." Purple Quartz approved while nodding, thinking of how absolutely thrashed the Fulminous Witch would make him at their next encounter, probably having far more mastery of power than he'd acquired even through otherworldly means. "I'll need a lot more help than you think I'll need." "Duh." Iael said, unsubtly. Irene burst into laughter in the next room over. |
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| WitchRolina | Mar 8 2017, 02:29 AM Post #11 |
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Missing the Unified Aesthetic
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You should claim these in the badge topic. Pretty sure you can claim each chapter individually, and you're unaligned so there's no worries about cooldown since it's not like you're trying to optimize points. |
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| Nedben | Mar 14 2017, 02:39 AM Post #12 |
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Orzic Nedbens
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It is done. Meanwhile... These special stones. One held a prince of sand, another a queen of ice, and most of the rest held...who knows what. Rare, but not utterly so. Powerful adepts and adept-like things got bound to these things, some by will, some by force (and prevented from escaping freely in the process). Had a bit of a proclivity to driving their hosted spirits to rest and meditative inward contemplation over outer action, in hopes of sagely insight for the willingly bound and hopes of forceful containment otherwise. The sage looked at one contemplatively. A gently glowing purple amethyst, set in a pillowy thing. And then he sighed. It felt like the days before the unsealing of alchemy, where the sages of old had little idea how anything worked and were limited further by the decaying infrastructure of the world, where people would more often than not rather die than learn, coupled with the hostile wilds and on-off witchhunting...Pitifully ignorant, and unable to heal their wounds. He let his similarly Jovian energy flow into it, trying to awake the person within... "Go away." the man inside replied to the stream of energy, in the muffled voice of one hiding under a pillow and demanding you give them five more minutes in bed. "I'm sleeping." "What, you sleeptalk?" the sage replied, unable to control his critical sass overload inside. "Yes." the petulant spirit answered unironically. "You, sassmaster! Give me one good reason why I should grant you anything!" "Uh...pursuit of knowledge?" the sage answered, tone impenetrable. "Fair enough." the crazy stone sent back. "What do I know, uh..." It rained herbs for a moment, little green bursts falling to the ground and getting vegetable matter everywhere. "Wait, no, uh..." It rained mundanely. The sage sighed at the sudden showering. Rocks weren't usually this dumb. "Gimme a moment." Part of the rain caught on fire, before being extinguished as an afterthought. "Uh, nope, sorry..." A comical lightning bolt zapped one of the herbs on the ground. "That!" the man in the stone shouted with cheer, the gem-pillow hopping with the poorly contained excitement of the power within. "This is my power! The storms that upheave the world in alchemical brilliance!" More herbs erupted from the ground, a few bursting into acid and flames. "I'm an elemental master, that's what I am! I'm just a little senile, that's all! Pop the tarts!" The sage facepalmed. Progress was progress but why. "I was one of the great ancients! I'm a great architect, I proposed some of the craziest building plans in the world as a joke and then people actually built them! Wait, nevermind, it was a guild-wide joke. We were all joking! Then they didn't think we were! Then the world blew up and I decided not to come out of my rock ever again." Oh joy, answers, finally. "I'm gonna make it rain alchemy! THAT'S GONNA BE AWESOOOOOME!" Oh, nevermind. Peppy was still an improvement. "Nah just kidding I'm going back to sleep." Expletives. "Night night! Send the mad gods my regards!" The sage had half a mind to toss the stone to the Outer Ones himself. The Outer Ones, on the other hand, did not have time for blowing up stones. They were breaking glass and blowing more glass, and making sand from nothing to burn for more. "The unspeakable one grants you his blessing." The words from the void awoke LAUREL-L from her reverie. Right, the potnia therion, the theia dancer, the tree-woman who would dance up the rainbows... The woman who held within her jelly-marrow balls of sky and birth-war waved her cloak of stars to grant herself space on black ground-in-void. A daughter cell of all their accumulated blessings, a war-machine built to do the opposite. An echo chamber of the First's ideas. Though perhaps without her genocidal, nay, omnicidal, nah, just apocalyptic tendencies mixed among the abyssal genesis. Within her hands was breathed life that danced. "You, why can't I recall you..." sang the sad queen to her newborn/new-called. An itch from the null. Red and orange blur-burst. The serpent. ASMODEUS-Q. "Hey the-re cute kid wan-na do something regrett-able together." the serpent sang back. "Not yet." intervened ISHTAR-E. "This is not yet our tale with which to do as we wish, nor ours to burn bridges. Besides, you have a predecessor necessitated." HEMERA-D. The dawn. Unstable time, unstable space, murky story. Beats of pain and pleasure and information. "Can we cut the poetry, heh?" Purple Quartz cut in nervously. "I'm still a bit sore from last time." No. Our master likes it. Too much. He's weird and creepy and you know exactly what I'm talking about. "Why do you think I'm sore?" Exactly. Now then. You know what, expletives it. Go to Weyard. A jump of shadow, and it is so. The shadowfolk readjusted himself, as was courtesy for these abrupt shifts in scenery. "Way less mindscrew, heh." Approval to match. Space stabilized. A forest, elven probably. Deep in Kolima. "So, we sharing the hurt?" Hell no. That's like, HEMERA-D if you're sane and ASMODEUS-Q if you're anything like our owner, i.e. not. Save that garbage for the replacement horsemen (crazy ladies and a snake?) of the apocalypse. "Fine, fine heh. Just asking." he apologetically covered. "So what else we here for?" Cult-starting, maybe. Find some weak-minded elves, but don't go full spiral breaking visage of the unseemly. Whisper stereotypical dark thoughts or whatever. You're the guy with edgy as a natural habitat, work it out. "It's a step down from crystal castles." What here ain't? Go on. Nameless cults that should remain unknown, go revive 'em. Sneak in some messages between the vaguely sad pipe flute background music. Bring friends. Haunt up the place. Do your thing. I have my own role too. "Kay, heh." the shadowfolk said, his kind emerging from the void into the treetops. "Let's go, sisters and bros. We got some religious elements to corrupt. Hail Cthulhu and all that." Don't get him involved, he barely comes to this forum. "'Twas joke." I know, I'm the narrator for crying out loud. You do you. Bye, have a wonderful time. "Seeya, loony." Right. Now then. Finally, away from that...void of unknowables. Other people's writ. Yet to be written. Whatever, I'm confusing my own thoughtstreams... Linking now. Hello, how may I- Oh. Holy. (not) A town in ruins. Eldritch green flames bursting from a hellmouth, the sacrificed creator burning brightly as he took on a new form. A demon that spat thunder, lightning, and flame, purple-red-green-twisted-singing a blur of colors and mayhem that lorded over the town. A dragon-like man, scaled devil-thing. It bellowed, storming through the lesser side, charging for the sanctum in the square and scattering whatever houses and resistance it encountered. Flame-spirits of the hells burst from the gate it had torn to achieve new form, wandering wisps- Kchunk. An angelic spear. Ow that hurt him it itches through the- EIAIAEAIEAIAEIAEIAYIEIAEAIEAYIEIAIEAIEIAYOUAEIOAUEIAOEUAEIOUAYAEIOUYIYUSAAOPNGNGH- Out, colornarratoriᚻᛖ ᚳᚹᚫᚦ ᚦᚫᛏ ᚻᛖ ᛒᚢᛞᛖ ᚩᚾ ᚦᚫᛗ ᛚᚪᚾᛞᛖ ᚾᚩᚱᚦᚹᛖᚪᚱᛞᚢᛗ ᚹᛁᚦ ᚦᚪ ᚹᛖᛥᚫ Allow me to assist, young one. Hello world, Καλημέρα κόσμε, コンニチハ- Oh, Title, long time no see. Default chair, this is...quite a debacle our lord has conjured. Usual. May he find rest and let us go to others who are better. Mhm. Really, thanks again for clearing that spouty...I'm not entirely sure. It is nonissue. Best of luck. Alright where we- More spears of angelic light, rendered in thunder by a spearman. A jovian adept-cleric of Odin, of course. I'm growing used to their interference. Birds of wind and shock like raven-scouts followed, beating against the demon-man of fire and the same. The gungnirs struck true, as they always did, seeking bolts that homed in through so many methods obfuscating them was more a matter of divine shields than earthly evasion. And they hurt. One priest against a strong one was a weak contest, but the adept of mundane skies wore the might of the terrible one. "þ" Correction: the god of thunder had been called to send down an avatar. Not quite the raging Furies' earthly manifests nearly in full at their greatest shrine, but certainly a distinct body for more than a turn. And send himself down the god did. The swirl of Jupiter djinni called down in a blast of thunder was met with a hammer-blow, one that staggered the flaming thing, green and purple shattered everywhere. Mjolnir- KTHXCKHS error retreat recalibrate refresh recalculating Hammers break narration. Good to know. Edited by Nedben, Mar 15 2017, 02:53 AM.
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| Nedben | May 3 2017, 02:13 AM Post #13 |
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Just keep dodging. Green gold fallen king can't last forever. Hope is bullets and rejection and ever so closer. Click. The rushing blast of autumn leaves. Another pattern in infinity. Steps in the sky, the pair eternally dueling. Guns blazing, brothers and sisters. Guns blazing. Wake up. Richard, are you okay- Alex, thank God you made it- Reunion. Purple Quartz flickered into the white void of existence, the tearoom resolidifying around him. He breathed deeply. Irene flickered back as well. "About time you got back." she said. "Katie's trap was a pretty strong one, but luckily she went for amaranth over nirvana." Liebschen, outside of reality, screeched an incomprehensible cataclysm that rippled the world, cat and dog raining together in a sieging reassembly. Some spirits were not friends, and had very unfriendly arrangements to get back to. Iael flickered in, then out, then grabbed an amethyst-encrusted end table, steadying herself as she struggled to simply exist. She finally had her avatar fall in completely, then promptly lost her grip on the table and flopped on the floor, muttering 'no' quietly over and over again. "We've lost so much power..." Alex said, collapsing into one of the armchairs. "Katie's taken everything in an attempt to follow up Vanguard's attack." "It's useless. It's useless." Iael gently wept. "I can barely remake reality, she's taking so much of me, all of us, I can hardly think-" She speckled with colors. She vibrated, fogged, dispersed, half-shattered, static'd-out, bent and warped and- and...and...incomprehensible, forcibly, forcibly... Nope. She collapsed a little further, normalizing on the floor, a fallen catgirl whose emerald locks draped the floor around her head like a sea-witch, ears twitching and shallow breaths the few visible signs of life. "We're back in the plot business." Alex said. "Barely gods. Time to claw our way back up again. Heh, it's like the old days, and mainline me..." Two cats down. But at least one remained. Katie Allen would not die. And neither will I. Radiant with the stolen (borrowed) power of who-knows-what, a violent godhead to match the first few, claws of light against a storm of shadow and stars, this is pointless and I love you for it Shut up and fight me. Ahahahaha! Cut. Cut. Cut. Cut. Cut. Cut. Cut. Cut. Cut. Cut. B U R N "Man, I haven't felt this weak since..." Richard mused. "Still a bit after shellcore. Maybe narratori school." "Still stronger than me." Alex said. "Blah, I can barely feel the rest of me all stuck in her big combo fusion. I can barely feel the Golden Sun spirit..." "Golden Sun." Purple Quartz said. "We still have half an epic left there, right?" Ishtar-E cried out in pain, dropping her divine capslock in admittance of half-defeat from a gameboard going dead, ejecting her into the sea-gates of- Three women and a snake joined the party of screwups. "Welcome back." Irene said neutrally. "Iael's knocked out by the end table in the hall if you want to form a sleeping cuddles pile and look at the rest of yourself being a catgirl's trinkinion magic powerups." A pile of glitch energy popped into existence, burst into flame, and burnt itself away, revealing a formal letter stamped with the sigils of the Scarlet Devil, Aeiouian government, and of course as an ironic touch, that of the Mercury Clan both on the sealing and the message label. It fell to the table with the sound of a mailed letter falling on a table. "It's for Alex." Irene clarified to the audience, who most likely had been mercifully spared from the reason why any of those three things were on the same letter. She stepped a bit closer to the wooden centerpiece table in question, and slid the letter over toward Alex, who with a grumble leaned forward and collected it, leaning back to gingerly open it, wincing in expectation of a thermonuclear bomb, a large amount of repeatedly deadly curses that would eviscerate him for hours on end before exploding him into the vacuum of space, or some other extravagantly deadly and not very humorous punishment gag. What he found was to him even worse. He cringed, reading through the thickest German accent one could possibly transcribe without quite properly writing in phonetic German, line by line humiliating alternatives proposed playfully, until the bottom line of the page hit at the end of the options. Want to play a game? The backside was formal details, drafted by the support staff. "Your family really is a mess." Richard said, reading over the shoulder of his lover. Invitation to the First Fake Diamond Jubilee Aesthetic Golden Sun Holy Grail War. The Golden Sun War, for the Sun Grail. Mia had playfully appeared in the sitting room. "Ja." she said, balancing the crystalline fragment of intent on her right pointer finger, like a balancing bird toy. The prism glowed a gentle periwinkle, the white mage tempting gods for who the first time in a while could not seriously resist the prospect of advantage to recover placeholder power until some mary sue dropped the ball. The Queen of Ice and Wishes grinned with the fangs of the Scarlet Devil that she was one with for a moment, then swigged some Jack Daniels from a bottle held in her left hand. It was time for a horror story. |
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Irritation from the majority on such a flippant claim.
Apologetic tense 'um' from the four big fighters.
Confusion, from quite a few people who had no idea what that was all about.
Smiles of happiness for quite a few djinn who did indeed want some potato chips.
An idea struck.








8:39 AM Jul 11

