Topic: Our Salvation: It Is Written (Read 262404 times)

Xantalos · « **Reply #1215 on:** June 24, 2016, 05:55:20 pm »

"My god you really still think you're on earth, don't you?

Leaving that particular future breakdown aside, how'd this here gigantic blob of tentacles come to be?"

AoshimaMichio · « **Reply #1216 on:** June 25, 2016, 02:15:23 am »

Avocado of acceptance? No, too obviously outlandish. Majority always wins this type of arguments. If they don't fast enough, then perhaps I should encourage the INEVITABLE.

TopHat · « **Reply #1217 on:** June 25, 2016, 05:52:42 am »

Not the kind of sorting I want! _{There goes the sleep-paralysis theory.}
Remember the bit where I was on the verge of waking up? Any chance of getting back to that?

Harry Baldman · « **Reply #1218 on:** June 25, 2016, 08:05:03 am »

Quote from: Toaster 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.

The sword replies that no, the sieging force was kindly donated as material to facilitate his formation, and thus no longer technically exists. While their sacrifice was ultimately in vain, their material will still be put to very good use.

You open the keep's door, coming face to face with a well-manned barricade of royal guards constructed of what little furniture the castle still had. Much to your convenience, they do manage to recognize you in the middle of shouting an order to attack, and you even manage to dodge the flask of oil that nearly flies into your head. The ground gets a little slick, however.

Wait, shouts the guard who trained you, pulling back the hand of another guard about to throw a lit torch in your direction. That's not the demon, that's that, er, recruit. The guards all look at her in silence. Recruit?

More of a contractor, you mention, attracting the looks of all the guards. The keep seems dead silent apart from the guards present, you happen to notice, no trace of the previous clamor of mobilized servants.

Right, your instructor says after another long pause. Did you see anything out there? Where is the demon? Is it coming this way?

[A Satisfactory Explanation: 6]

Technically yes, you suppose, in that the fellow agreed to be your sword after you beat him in a mostly fair and highly interesting duel. You almost hear the rise of eyebrows at that, and in response present your evidence. See, you say, there it is right there. There are a few moments of silence once again, after which a particular guard asks if anybody else just heard the sword talk. The others nod, and you see very cautious looks being directed your way now.

Feeling the ice forming already, you try to break it in advance by saying that really you've had a lot of fun and that the training did come in quite handy, but now that the contract's fulfilled you really need to be on your way, and could you see the queen before that maybe? You figure a farewell's in order there.

They seem to need to think on this request a little, your instructor taking a moment to look in the direction of your sword. You feel a strange quiver in the blade after a couple of seconds as it seems to attempt a shrug, and promptly disappears from your hand.

No worries, Mr. Minstep, you hear the voice of your sword. You can never be separated as long as the contract is in place. But one can become less obtrusive as the situation demands.

Right, says your instructor, before being cut off by a guard you recall being near the queen's quarters at last visitation. Right, says he, as long as you keep your doom sword away you can visit the queen. But you will be observed, make no mistake!

Quote from: Xantalos 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.

[Addressing A Mountain: 5]

Oi, you say! Oi there! What do you think you're doing! Stop that this instant, you enormous pile of whatever the fuck! The shrieking pauses as Mr. Wilde slides a little around, seemingly not very gifted in hearing. But you do sense that something's paid attention, even if only a little. You think a rational argument's unlikely to work, to be honest, so you guess you'll just shout a little louder. Seems to be the way forward. Oi! Oi, you in there! Come on!

[Reaching Out: 4]

A few moments pass as gears (possibly very literal ones, if the sloshing sounds are any indication) turn in Mr. Wilde's... er, thinkbits, you guess. Judging from the sounds he's making, though, you don't think he's really open to rational argument. Especially given how he's started pointing all those teeth of his at you. Sigh. You guess you tried. Plan B!

REND

[Word: 5]

You raise your mutilated hand, having a jolly fine thought at the tip of it. It raises a very good point, you feel, uniquely incisive in this circumstance.

See, you figure it's a lot like trimming a hedge. This one's just slightly more ambulatory than most. With a gesture you send your intent in a loop, and off come some five hundred pounds, vitreous humor and loose teeth pouring out of the inner layers you uncover. Circling round, you peel elegant spirals of lymph-soaked skin and compacted hair, and sever great lengths of shapeless stomach interlaced with lattices of bone. Knots of distended arteries burst into fountains of bright red blood, superfluous hearts needing but one decisive poke before their own maddened contraction tears them to pieces of woven muscle. The third go round takes you on a tour of livers beyond belief, burning with overdriven production, and trunks of bone burst with generous spilling marrow as you carve them neatly into pieces. Clusters of raw nerve and buttery glia are swum through with greater ease as you turn them to simple puree with but the tiniest flourish. Glands of all stripes disgorge multicolored fluids into the air as you eviscerate, pierce and send them flying in gentle arcs.

Flesh spills like a burst dam along your ankles, frightened rats budding off from quivering masses. Viscera spill into the old well like a drain as you go nine times around on a grand tour of disturbed anatomy, until all that's left is a representative mass the size of a marble, held aloft only by the circling force of your thought, frightened of falling lest it cross its path. You let it hang a second as you incline your head, then flick it in your direction, catching it out of the air with your functional hand. It's a variegated little nugget, surprisingly pregnant with meaning. All it needs, you find, is a gentle squeeze, and the internal pressure does much of the work. With a final howl the little cyst bursts, and out of it comes a physically improbable amount of dedifferentiating matter with the rough consistency of whipped cream. You layer into a leaning tower of roughly your own height, and with a slight hiss you see the shape of an anatomically correct Mr. Wilde define itself, coated in panicking rats and a few spare organs as your allowances for faulty memory sort themselves out without need for further motivation.

You turn Mr. Wilde around with a careful eye to check on him more closely. He opens his mouth to hiss weakly, eyes full of impotent bestial bloodlust. You roll your eyes and backhand him across his impertinent mug, nearly snapping his jaw in half as he flips and falls on his face into the mixed pool of what was formerly his unbound form, rats and organs sliding off his surprisingly clothed body. You give him a generous ten seconds to regain consciousness as you step to loom over him. He starts coughing weakly before then.

Oi, you say. Oi Wilde, you done being uncoupled? 'Cause you can keep going if not.

Quote from: penguinofhonor 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.

You guess the most solid thing would be that sacrificial slab somebody has helpfully put up near the blacksmith's workshop. As the courtyard roars and Mr. Daniels runs interference you dive behind it, cowering in the hopes that the stone does not fall on you in all the chaos.

The sound abates for a moment. And then comes something else.

REND

You feel like you are almost better off not seeing what results from this, especially given that the splatter reaches the very door of the blacksmith's residence. In the air you sense something extraordinarily malevolent and especially lethal. Yep, probably safer here, even with the looming threat of unfavorable gravity.

You wait until the sounds and smells (of which there are many, each more questionable than the last) settle down, crowned by a bone-cracking smack and a wet squelch. After this the only thing you hear is faint nagging, which signals to you that a certain threshold of safety has likely been crossed.

Quote from: AoshimaMichio on June 25, 2016, 02:15:23 am

Avocado of acceptance? No, too obviously outlandish. Majority always wins this type of arguments. If they don't fast enough, then perhaps I should encourage the INEVITABLE.

You stay back and watch as the stoatmen try to address this problem the only way they know how - browbeating by a majority backed by spurious argumentation.

[Giving In: 5]

Fortunately the non-assertive guard remains non-assertive, and soon the other troops in the back are on their way, beaming at what a great idea splitting away seems to be, leaving but one guard with a whole lot of sunflower seeds to get through in her post.

[Proactive Approach: 3+1]

Lee, who currently looms on the winery's roof right above the guard, having used your distraction to her advantage, gives you a look from afar. It seems to ask a very simple question - now?

Quote from: TopHat on June 25, 2016, 05:52:42 am

Not the kind of sorting I want! _{There goes the sleep-paralysis theory.}
Remember the bit where I was on the verge of waking up? Any chance of getting back to that?

[Seize the Waking: 3]

Well, you do hear somebody ranting in your direction. Somebody new. You suppose that's of some interest, maybe you should really get to them and wait no that's not what you meant wait!

Suddenly you feel a great pain, followed by an immense lightness, which then gives way to mounting pressure and a feeling of shrinkage. You feel like your head's about to explode, and then the feeling is kicked up a notch to the point where you can barely think. And then, release. Is it your skull breaking open? A cascade of multiple strokes? For a moment, your sense of body is completely gone, only to come back seconds later as what feels like a freight train smacks into your jaw, ringing your spine like a bell.

You tingle all over as you accidentally inhale flowing warm lymph and bile, and start to cough. What a unique flavor to awaken to.

Oi, you hear a familiar voice. Its presence reminds you of an all-encompassing pain your brain had so kindly failed to note until now. Oi Wilde, it continues, you done being uncoupled? It sounds a lot like Mr. Daniels. He can keep going if you aren't, he says with more than a little unkindness.

Spoiler: Status (click to show/hide)

penguinofhonor · « **Reply #1219 on:** June 25, 2016, 09:02:50 am »

I get away from the teetering stone and look for somewhere to rest. Preferably somewhere hidden.

AoshimaMichio · « **Reply #1220 on:** June 25, 2016, 09:50:39 am »

Now is good, hopefully she can do it all quiet like. Step in to assist.
This leaves us total six stoats remaining, right? Where are they?

Toaster · « **Reply #1221 on:** June 25, 2016, 10:28:10 am »

Thomas nodded to Mr. Daniels as he went into the keep. "Well of course; where else would we be? And I don't know; I was a bit distracted by the duel. Anyway, I must be going!"

As the guards agreed, Thomas nodded. "Yes, yes, I will be polite. By the way, I believe your stout fellow friends outside have left."

Head up to see the queen to bid a polite farewell. Don't pull out any doom swords.

TopHat · « **Reply #1222 on:** June 25, 2016, 01:30:57 pm »

"I guess so, if that's what it's called. Thank you for snapping me out of it. I - wait, where's Ms. Minett? Is she alright? Even if this is her fault I do hope she's not badly hurt. What about Mr. Minstep and the One?"
I didn't kill anyone, did I? Also try to stand up.

Xantalos · « **Reply #1223 on:** June 25, 2016, 01:35:50 pm »

"In order, she went and hid somewhere, she'll probably live, Minstep's in the keep I think, and I've no idea what that is. Important question: what did you do to the blacksmith? I've been informed you had interactions with him."

TopHat · « **Reply #1224 on:** June 25, 2016, 03:56:01 pm »

"The blacksmith? A most curious incident. He seemed to have the impression I was a master, of some sort, and asked me to bestow my mastery on him. So I did - he now has what is probably one of the most comprehensive scientific educations on this world. I learnt something too, a Word - you probably already know what they are. The blacksmith promptly told me to collect 2.3 pounds of gold from the well - I still need to do that, come to think of it - and went off to the Mason's to gather more material - he's still there now, as far as I know. Talked about building something to trap light - mentioned Time Enders, or something of the sort, if I remember correctly. Does that answer your question?"

Xantalos · « **Reply #1225 on:** June 25, 2016, 04:05:56 pm »

"Sort of. I'll go take care of that gold thing, don't worry about it."

Jack turns his back and begins walking towards the well, but pauses for a moment.

"Oh, one more thing. You're probably an athiest, but do me a favor and pray you didn't fuck up my armor project by doing what you did. It sounds like you helped him, but I was very invested in that.

You'll need the luck if you broke it."

Head on over to the well! Collect any stray rats that cross my path on the way.

TopHat · « **Reply #1226 on:** June 25, 2016, 04:45:48 pm »

"Agnostic, actually. Though if you ever need to know anything, feel free to ask. The Word I mentioned may help with that."

Xantalos · « **Reply #1227 on:** June 25, 2016, 04:53:58 pm »

"I wouldn't rely on Words too much. They seem to get those who use them in rather unfortunate situations."

TopHat · « **Reply #1228 on:** June 26, 2016, 03:15:54 pm »

"Not just the user, sadly. Which reminds me: if Ms. Minett ever tries to say the Word 'Chaos' in front of you, punch her in the face before she can finish. Trust me, it's for your own good."

Xantalos · « **Reply #1229 on:** June 26, 2016, 05:50:50 pm »

"I've had that policy for any word coming from her since before you got here, believe you me. You're not the only accidental incident she's caused."

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Author Topic: Our Salvation: It Is Written (Read 262404 times)

Xantalos

Re: Our Salvation: Knights of the Far Beyond

AoshimaMichio

Re: Our Salvation: Knights of the Far Beyond

TopHat

Re: Our Salvation: Knights of the Far Beyond

Harry Baldman

Re: Our Salvation: Knights of the Far Beyond

penguinofhonor

Re: Our Salvation: Knights of the Far Beyond

AoshimaMichio

Re: Our Salvation: Knights of the Far Beyond

Toaster

Re: Our Salvation: Knights of the Far Beyond

TopHat

Re: Our Salvation: Knights of the Far Beyond

Xantalos

Re: Our Salvation: Knights of the Far Beyond

TopHat

Re: Our Salvation: Knights of the Far Beyond

Xantalos

Re: Our Salvation: Knights of the Far Beyond

TopHat

Re: Our Salvation: Knights of the Far Beyond

Xantalos

Re: Our Salvation: Knights of the Far Beyond

TopHat

Re: Our Salvation: Knights of the Far Beyond

Xantalos

Re: Our Salvation: Knights of the Far Beyond