Topic: Our Salvation: It Is Written (Read 258602 times)

Harry Baldman · « **Reply #1200 on:** June 23, 2016, 06:53:53 pm »

Quote from: Xantalos on June 23, 2016, 04:14:40 am

"This entire experience is rather miffing me. I think Wilde just earned a few more theoretical displaced vertebrae."

Meditation first then. Inflicting pain upon others after.

Since your thoughts tend to be rather uniformly violent, you spend a few relaxing minutes not thinking any, a feat that proves remarkably easy when there's a handy altar nearby willing to accept them free of charge. For safekeeping, naturally, as they are returned in roughly the same shape a few minutes afterward when you find yourself feeling decidedly better than before, if not noticeably physically improved, including on the front of having a crossbow bolt stuck in your throat.

Hm. Well, at least you feel a little better! And that's some kind of progress, you're willing to bet!

Quote from: AoshimaMichio on June 23, 2016, 05:29:21 am

"Ah, I found our target! The winery over there! Say, are you feeling up for murder? Four guards and few soldiers stands in our way. The guy will be cooperative if we off few of them. I think they are torturing him."

Affix bayonets! Raise spears! Because tonight we don't dine in hell, but get comfortably drunk in winery! Let's get closer unseen and confirm that magic did not lie to me.

((Is my Induced Inebriation: Comfortably Drunk still a fact? I feel like I have tried few times to get rid of it.))

Murder is best avoided. But sometimes exceptions must be made. She will follow.

The path is almost exceedingly familiar, burning before you as if you had walked it before a hundred times. This is because you have done exactly that, naturally. Cutting though the vineyard with Lee, you encounter no real resistance. The place seems nearly abandoned except for the winery on one side of the yard, the squat stone building marked by a great stack of barrels reaching higher than the edge of the roof. One stoatman sits upon the stack, wearing the armor of a soldier as he gives the surrounding countryside a bored look. On the ground two other stoatmen dressed in the unimpressive clothing of a guard cover the main entrance.

You and Lee circle the vineyard, unobserved from your distance just as you predicted. There is another entrance, the back one - this one has two soldiers conversing by the door, and two guards beside them. They're about to have a discussion about whether there's really much need in them standing about while the sergeant tries to squeeze blood from a stone, so to speak.

Quote from: Toaster on June 23, 2016, 07:01:10 am

"I suppose this is why I am here. Might as well get my money's worth, as it were?"

Let's end this. No idea how they're doing these effects any more.

[The End Is Nigh: 6 vs. 2]

In anticipation of your incoming slices one splits into pieces once more, flying toward you like gray rain, each droplet singing with lacerating energy. You do the sensible thing and drop to the ground as it flies past, and roll toward it to get back to your feet, aiming your blade outward in preparation for a stab. It is a stab that lands quite excellently, catching the stout fellow as his gray shape begins to reform, splitting a spot where you'd presume an internal organ to be.

You do not wait for one's reaction, pulling the sword out and unleashing a flurry of slashes. You start cutting and don't stop, chunks of gray flying as you make sure no bit is left to stand atop another, splitting the already tenuous links in place as you dig into one's flesh, all but tearing the figure to pieces, leaving the yard around you strewn with weeping pieces of gray, white smoke rising as each one twitches fast enough to produce infrasonic vibrations and not a small amount of heat.

Where once one stood, now there hangs only a knot of gray, an interminable length of extradimensional tapeworm revolving and dragging itself intently along a solid core of something completely unidentifiable by any senses you may possess. It pulses as you stare at it, unsure of what you're supposed to do now.

As if sensing your confusion, the core speaks. You are of a greater flesh than most. And of highly impressive skill, in that you have disposed of this material form extremely adequately, even if you had considerable help in the process. It is reasonable to suppose that you are likely to find yourself in the position to acquire much material. More than this form did, at the very least.

In order to keep to a certain margin of material gained, one would like to offer the exclusive option to be your sword, harvesting material when you permit and offering advice on the particulars of the known world when you ask. One would surmise this to be a highly profitable arrangement for both sides, given time and adventure.

Of course, if this is not of interest, ask one to leave and your will shall be done, and one shall surrender one's Words to you as an alternate offering of peace, and trouble you no more in the future.

Quote from: penguinofhonor on June 23, 2016, 01:44:56 pm

Crap, I'm running out of options. And flesh, most likely.

I try to HUNGER again. I need voracious strength to defeat this opponent.

HUNGER

[Word: 6]

If your body will not return to your mind, the mind will have to go to it. And this is what occurs as you focus the essence of desperate starvation upon yourself, your consciousness propelled on a wave of animalistic impulse to the forefront of your body, where you scream with it and it screams with you, and the voice of the flesh and mind becomes synchronous once again. You rip with a thousand arms into the body of Mr. Wilde, raking flesh and bone out of it in boiling fistfuls. Your tentacles feel like fingers, and blades feel like fingernails.

Sinew and muscle come together under coordination, and you focus a giant arm into Mr. Wilde's unfocused bulk, pounding it into momentary submission as you bite down with all of the teeth that you remember, generous chunks of flesh coming loose with every bite and rending sweep. You bring down all four limbs simultaneously, your mass and force focused into them to beat your prey into submission. The ferocity of the assault sends the mass of rampaging substrate backward.

You concentrate in more ways than one as your fingers peel away layers and rip out nodules of hardened tissue, the smell of blood driving you wild as you clamber upon the mountain of flesh with amazing speed, digging deeper and deeper for the sweetness of brain and marrow, growing refined as you properly reemerge from the sea of chaos at the crest of the wave, having shown mastery of its impulse as you continue tearing at the surreal mass before you, your flesh falling in line behind you once again.

The howling is now unmistakably your own as the red mist begins to lift, sent into retreat by a bounty of flesh, your body no longer derailed from sense or reason, the feeling of your robe and possessions the final straw that breaks the wave. Mr. Wilde's blood pours out of your mouth as you rise up with yet another chunk torn free. This time you spit it out, human instinct returning to you and the taste of raw flesh suddenly becoming unappealing. Clarity sets in.

Here you stand atop a quivering horror thirty times your size, once more your old self. As Mr. Wilde's form undulates violently you nearly lose your footing, and his screaming threatens to burst your eardrums. You feel that standing here much longer is unlikely to be good for your continued health.

Quote from: TopHat on June 23, 2016, 04:28:26 pm

Very funny. I'm almost disappointed - you'd think even when going mad I'd think of something more plausible than that. I explained this to the blacksmith - what is the body but a collection of elements in a specific form, blindly obeying a series of signals from the brain? Completely incapable of thought or rebellion.
Nice try, but I'm not insane enough to believe that yet.

[Frames of Sanity: 2]

It's less that your body has a mind of its own, you figure, and more that you seem to be experiencing something between sleepwalking and sleep paralysis, with a dash of notable sensory deprivation. What little information comes your way is hazy and vague. You move, and yet you are functionally asleep. A curious thing. Should you wait for it to pass as you would wait out a witch sitting on your chest, if only because of a lack of any more effective options?

Something turns, violently. You feel yourself assaulted with incredible power and ferocity, the unmistakable feeling of unbound flesh backed up by a Word of immense power. Your mind shakes with force exerted upon the body, and for a moment things become stranger - or is it clearer? Are you perhaps on the verge of an awakening?

Spoiler: Status (click to show/hide)

Xantalos · « **Reply #1201 on:** June 23, 2016, 08:16:35 pm »

"Right, that was good. Refreshing, even. Variety being the spice of life and all that. However, I figure it's about time to get back to work, as it were. It's not like the crossbow bolt is even relevant, with whatever my body's made out of."

Venture outside! See what fuckery's transpired in my absence.

Toaster · « **Reply #1202 on:** June 24, 2016, 12:00:22 am »

Quote from: AoshimaMichio on June 23, 2016, 11:30:42 am

Quote from: Toaster on June 23, 2016, 07:01:10 am
"I suppose this is why I am here. Might as well get my money's worth, as it were?"

Let's end this. No idea how they're doing these effects any more.
((Still in denial mode, huh?))

((Yep. Thomas can probably be snapped into this world, but it's more likely that he'd just assume he had gone crazy and start "playing along" more. This could have happened with the "flesh mass" result, but that wasn't to be. Anyway, going to probably annoy a couple people by tossing away those cool words.))

"The offer of a sword does seem quite appealing; it'll be nice to have a keepsake of this strange adventure. And I have but one question for you now; how do I get to Albany? It's been a ton of fun here but I would not like to upset Mr. Munderly any further."

Take the sword option. Continue to be oblivious.

AoshimaMichio · « **Reply #1203 on:** June 24, 2016, 02:03:34 am »

Well, murder is still something I would rather avoid too. I haven't... murdered anyone yet, right? Let's see. First the well, there was that minder but frankly he was almost dead anyway. Then prison, nobody died there. Next minder's tower, hmm, no kills. Then... stoat camp, mostly just talked there. After that daring escape, bypassing town, encounter with patrol... Uh oh, that... that wasn't murder, wasn't it? She impaled herself, right? Even if I chose the continuity where it was bound to happen it still wasn't murder, right? Then... that guard. Nope, not my kill. Yep, still no actual blood in my hands yet.

"Get in position to... do something. I try to distract them or make them go away." Leif whispers.

Once Lee is ready to act, it is time to make and try new minding technique on spot. I hope it works this time. Guards are bored, they already don't see point of being here. Let's try to boost that. They really do have something better to do somewhere else.

penguinofhonor · « **Reply #1204 on:** June 24, 2016, 05:01:20 am »

I jump away!

TopHat · « **Reply #1205 on:** June 24, 2016, 10:48:46 am »

Wait, I guess. Nothing else seems to have worked.

Quote from: Toaster on June 24, 2016, 12:00:22 am

((Yep. Thomas can probably be snapped into this world, but it's more likely that he'd just assume he had gone crazy and start "playing along" more. This could have happened with the "flesh mass" result, but that wasn't to be. Anyway, going to probably annoy a couple people by tossing away those cool words.))

((Not at all - Words may not grow on trees but they're certainly easier to obtain than demon-swords, if current experience is anything to go by.))

penguinofhonor · « **Reply #1206 on:** June 24, 2016, 02:28:09 pm »

((I care less about the cool words and more about the cool sword you're tossing away.))

Harry Baldman · « **Reply #1207 on:** June 24, 2016, 04:18:04 pm »

Quote from: Xantalos on June 23, 2016, 08:16:35 pm

"Right, that was good. Refreshing, even. Variety being the spice of life and all that. However, I figure it's about time to get back to work, as it were. It's not like the crossbow bolt is even relevant, with whatever my body's made out of."

Venture outside! See what fuckery's transpired in my absence.

You listen carefully for a moment, and realize that things have calmed down in some imperceptible manner. Although there is some kind of unearthly shrieking going on, for some reason the nasty feeling just isn't quite there anymore.

This becomes all the more strange when upon getting outside you get a sense for what's going on. Your eyes naturally rest on the most disturbing thing in the vicinity, which appears to be some approximation of Mr. Wilde. You say 'approximation' because it looks like a cottage-sized mountain of hooks and claws and eyes and tentacles and oh my, all of it currently aimed at a somewhat terribly injured Ms. Minett attempting to flee with all of her might.

And then there's Mr. Minstep, currently admiring a sword made out of something gray and very strange-looking, uniform in color and shade, impossibly crisply silhouetted in the darkening courtyard. Mr. Minstep gives you a quick look, then peers at the mortal combat going on nearby, then admires his sword for a moment longer.

It seems you've missed quite a lot of fuckery. Quite a lot of fuckery indeed.

Quote from: Toaster on June 24, 2016, 12:00:22 am

"The offer of a sword does seem quite appealing; it'll be nice to have a keepsake of this strange adventure. And I have but one question for you now; how do I get to Albany? It's been a ton of fun here but I would not like to upset Mr. Munderly any further."

Take the sword option. Continue to be oblivious.

Excellent. One hopes that your cooperation will be most productive.

The core throws itself upon your sword wantonly and with reckless abandon, splitting in half as the wormlike thing surrounding it encircles first the blade, then the handle, the shimmering liquid metal of the sword becoming, if anything, slightly less physically likely, a blank gray, mildly luminescent formation weighing seemingly nothing at all. You run your hand over it cautiously, and feel a mild pull for a moment before it seemingly very consciously stops. The blade is warm, almost hot, and seems to displace no air with a swing.

[A Sense of Place: 4]

As for your question, Albany is not here. It is also not in the lands to the immediate south, or on the borderlands of El, or in the foothills of the Kingdom of the Dead. If it is nearby at all, it would follow that it could be found northward. And if it cannot, the north is likely to hold someone who may know a more precise answer. It is a place of infinite possibility after all.

You consider this as you behold Mr. Daniels exit a nearby shrine in all his au naturel glory, innocently alternating between observing the relatively normal-looking Ms. Minett's deadly battle with the irrepressible Mr. Wilde and the far less interesting sight of you talking to your sword.

Quote from: AoshimaMichio on June 24, 2016, 02:03:34 am

Well, murder is still something I would rather avoid too. I haven't... murdered anyone yet, right? Let's see. First the well, there was that minder but frankly he was almost dead anyway. Then prison, nobody died there. Next minder's tower, hmm, no kills. Then... stoat camp, mostly just talked there. After that daring escape, bypassing town, encounter with patrol... Uh oh, that... that wasn't murder, wasn't it? She impaled herself, right? Even if I chose the continuity where it was bound to happen it still wasn't murder, right? Then... that guard. Nope, not my kill. Yep, still no actual blood in my hands yet.

"Get in position to... do something. I try to distract them or make them go away." Leif whispers.

Once Lee is ready to act, it is time to make and try new minding technique on spot. I hope it works this time. Guards are bored, they already don't see point of being here. Let's try to boost that. They really do have something better to do somewhere else.

You have a good feeling about this plan. You've tried it so many times, it's bound to start working any moment now!

[Helpful Suggestion: 4]

If alcohol is a grapefruit, and disappointment is a coconut, then what is boredom? Takes a moment to consider, hm. But you think you've got it.

Why do they need to be here, one of the guards asks. Nothing is happening. Nothing is going to happen. There's only going to be more screaming, and frankly she's already been hearing that in her dreams the past couple of nights, and she doesn't need more potential trauma.

Because, a soldier replies, peeling out a sunflower seed from its shell and popping it into his mouth, chewing rhythmically between words, you never know when agitators might get around to freeing political prisoners.

But isn't there more potential agitator activity in town, the other soldier suggests as she squats down with a handful of seeds, having one every now and then. The guards at least could be patrolling, watching out for collaborators and curfew violators. Yeah, offers the other guard helpfully, too busy with her own seeds to elaborate on this affirmation.

[Seeds of Discontent: 4]

As all four of them squat without obvious intruders to harass, the two soldiers and guards slowly decide on a plan as they run through their seed supply. Three of them will go around the vineyard and maybe a little beyond and gather valuable intel, and the least enterprising guard will stay here and watch out for trouble. Yeah-wait what, the least enterprising guard says, that doesn't sound great. The soldiers elaborate that she is a guard, and thus uniquely suited to guarding in a way that soldiers like him and her are not, or even clear officer material like the other guard.

What follows is a great deal of extremely distracting counterargument punctuated by grotesque chewing as the troops in the back engage in something like a squat-huddle, trying to iron out this disagreement.

Quote from: penguinofhonor on June 24, 2016, 05:01:20 am

I jump away!

[Leap of Faith: 2]

You jump and you attempt to tumble - quite successfully, as you find yourself at the foot of Mr. Wilde's body in short order. Unfortunately, you find yourself no further away than that. The man really is quite massive.

[Mr. Wilde's Ride: 2 vs. 6]

And just as you seem to have liberated quite a lot of chunks from Mr. Wilde, he repays with the same, ripping into your back with a frankly ridiculous amount of claws and teeth, nearly sending you flying as you find yourself roughly twenty-four pounds lighter, and losing more quickly. You stumble forth, feeling very light-headed and slightly unstable all of a sudden.

Quote from: TopHat on June 24, 2016, 10:48:46 am

Wait, I guess. Nothing else seems to have worked.

[Patience Is A Virtue: 2]

You suppose there's nothing to it, really. Might as well just wait until you get yourself in order. Should be any minute now.

[Fair Recompense: 6 vs. 2]

Well, at least you suspect this to be the case if you continue to tear into things at the pace you're currently managing. Things'll be sorted in no time at all.

Spoiler: Status (click to show/hide)

Toaster · « **Reply #1208 on:** June 24, 2016, 04:25:41 pm »

Thomas sighed. Another vague answer. But really, he's not surprised this is Pennsylvania. It does make some sense. "Right. Are the stout fellows still blocking the way out? Because I'd like to bid a couple farewells then be on my way."

Tell the helpful trainer guard that I have fulfilled my contract and must be on my way; thank her for the training. The queen's next to say farewell to.

Xantalos · « **Reply #1209 on:** June 24, 2016, 04:31:08 pm »

"I never can leave you alone, can I? Well. Oi Wilde! Go back to normal, I need to have a talk with you. I don't want to have to kill you just yet, so be snappy.
...
Minstep, what happened in the last few minutes? I was otherwise occupied."

Attempt to sternly lecture Wilde back to normal. If that doesn't work, REND him into some smaller pieces and see if that helps him any.

penguinofhonor · « **Reply #1210 on:** June 24, 2016, 04:48:55 pm »

"Fuck if I know!"

Xantalos · « **Reply #1211 on:** June 24, 2016, 05:07:30 pm »

"No no, Minstep not Minett. Knowing your track record you probably had something to do with turning Wilde here into an infinitipus."

penguinofhonor · « **Reply #1212 on:** June 24, 2016, 05:16:32 pm »

"Sorry, blood in my ears! And I was helping!"

I find the most solid-looking thing in the area and hide behind it.

Xantalos · « **Reply #1213 on:** June 24, 2016, 05:35:27 pm »

"I think you and I have different definitions of the word help, but fair enough. Good luck not getting eaten."

Toaster · « **Reply #1214 on:** June 24, 2016, 05:44:26 pm »

"Ah! You missed the duel? Well, there was quite a bit of special effects, but I won and I got to keep this cool computer talking sword. Now I've got to find my way back home."

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Author Topic: Our Salvation: It Is Written (Read 258602 times)

Harry Baldman

Re: Our Salvation: Unlocking Potential

Xantalos

Re: Our Salvation: Unlocking Potential

Toaster

Re: Our Salvation: Unlocking Potential

AoshimaMichio

Re: Our Salvation: Unlocking Potential

penguinofhonor

Re: Our Salvation: Unlocking Potential

TopHat

Re: Our Salvation: Unlocking Potential

penguinofhonor

Re: Our Salvation: Unlocking Potential

Harry Baldman

Re: Our Salvation: Knights of the Far Beyond

Toaster

Re: Our Salvation: Knights of the Far Beyond

Xantalos

Re: Our Salvation: Knights of the Far Beyond

penguinofhonor

Re: Our Salvation: Knights of the Far Beyond

Xantalos

Re: Our Salvation: Knights of the Far Beyond

penguinofhonor

Re: Our Salvation: Knights of the Far Beyond

Xantalos

Re: Our Salvation: Knights of the Far Beyond

Toaster

Re: Our Salvation: Knights of the Far Beyond