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Author Topic: Our Salvation: It Is Written  (Read 264554 times)

Harry Baldman

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Re: Our Salvation: Tearing the Stitches of Reality
« Reply #1665 on: October 06, 2016, 06:11:34 am »

"Solid advice." One last glance at the canyon of bad ideas before following Lee's fine example.

[Set The Course To Magnetic North: 6]

You start at a very respectable jog as the plains become increasingly blasted, large and faintly humming craters rising up from the land, filling with groundwater and memories like haunted fish, the countryside angling upward as the foothills of the Corner of the World begin in earnest.

After a mile or two both you and Lee slow your pace, and continue putting in some distance between yourselves and the lit up canyon, which faintly rumbles for some time as you head out, though the tremors have calmed down almost entirely. Some of the craters bubble up with spires of aerated minerals reminding you of one of those elementary chemistry experiments, and every now and then you pass an oak or two.

You manage four whole hours of travel, night falling shortly after you get clear of the canyon, before it becomes readily apparent that Lee is completely running on fumes, slowing down progressively over the course of the last hour, until finally she stops at the largest oak you've seen today for a five minute rest that turns into a fifteen minute slump, at the end of which she seems to have passed out, breathing slowly as she decides to rest her eyes for a moment or two.

Hm. Maybe you should build a fire or something. Night's a little cold, and more than a little dark, and no doubt exceptionally full of terrors.

"Fine, you did this to me you bear the consequences."

Clamber up onto the blacksmith's back and clamp my limbs onto his own. For instance, grab his hands from the back so I can crudely operate them, and approximate the same thing with my feet as best I can. He shall be my improvised puppet in the fact of what looks like this vaguely Nordic-themed extraterrestrial invasion.

Internally plot about stealing that sword to satisfy my budding kleptomania.


[The Weight of Consequence: 3 vs. 6]

You decide to try the blacksmith while those other guys deal with the incoming nuclear apocalypse, and slink toward the blacksmith, who notices your advances and rather politely refuses after Mr. Wilde's own example, putting his hand on your face and sending you rolling toward the riverside as your muscles twitch in horrible pain upon being accidentally folded in half, knotting up and loosening up like an earthworm having a seizure.

At about this point Mr. Minstep and his rather fascinating sword get punted into the sky by a rampaging light-giant riding a glacier, somewhat thinning the numbers of those present.

"What an interesting sword. Where did you get that?"
Let Minstep do his thing first. Wouldn't do to suck away that sword of his by accident, would it? Oh, and get ready to dive out of the way if necessary.

Mr. Minstep manages to touch one of the incoming shapes, both of them clearly very intrigued by the properties of his sword - the first one buzzes him, getting a small screaming chunk taken out of it for its trouble. The second one, taking advantage of the distraction, bears down on him like you imagine a speeding glacier would, throwing him a solid 200 feet into the air on impact and making him land about half a mile down the road, clearly quite horrifically injured.

[Bad Luck At Pilot School: 1]

That done, you see the twin shapes bank around for another swoop, this time at the rest of you, seemingly very interested if all of you possess similar tricks. You see the knight ready her sword, clearly entirely unsure if it is likely to help, and the captain of the castle guard hums quietly at this development, seemingly rather unimpressed. Meanwhile, the lovely girl has taken off perpendicularly for the woods, leaving her sheet-clad friend staring with fascination at the skybound shapes, and Nately is currently busy being chosen as Mr. Daniels' next unfortunate target.

"A what mermaid? And do you know where to find a healer? My magic doesn't help much with wounds."

A white mermaid - a good mermaid. Not one who eats people, but one who helps, yes? Would you not have heard of such a thing?

And fret not, the fisher says, poking at her wound, squeezing out a little bit of blue-black blood. This will heal on its own. Only need to give it time.

[Cabin In The Depths: 6]

Although, now that you mention it, she has not shown you the temple. Would you like to see? She is well enough to swim the distance.

"This?  Oh, I won it as a prize in a fencing contest.  Quite fun, really!  It almost feels like it can touch the sky, now..."

Hold it up as suggested.  Just like the guys in high school slapping their hands on door overhangs and overhead signs and whatnot.

[Kiss Your Fist And Touch The Sky: 2]

You extend your sword upward, reaching far as you walk closer, and the twisting, snakelike airplane comes closer, your challenge met with a valiant cry from its many pilots, and it flies lower, lower, lower... oh dear, too low?

[Too Late: 2 vs. 2]

Seeing it come very close indeed, you step to the side and duck, sword still out as a formless wing crosses over you, the blade scoring the faintest of touches on its glowing ribbed surface, the plane looking like something between a mythical snaking dragon and a longboat, fifty misshapen men yelling distorted encouragement from the deck.

[Call of the One: 6]

A small piece of the plane dislodges as it passes over you and back into the sky, a little chunk of light shrieking on your sword for a moment before it disappears within it with a noticeable sucking noise. You see the plane begin to bank, seemingly eager to reclaim the piece you just took.

Familiar material, one should say. But more would be useful to make a thorough analysis.

[It's Not Too Late: 6+1 vs. 1]

It's at about this moment that the second plane collides with you rather violently, sending you rocketing upward as it scoops you off your feet, and you sail in a 200-foot-tall arc as you take off and then land rather heavily upon the cobbled road, a good half of your bones shattering on impact as a boiling sensation spreads across your skin, little bubbles forming on your skin and lifting off, forming images of that one time this guy you don't know came into your office. First prize that month was a Cadillac Eldorado, second prize was a set of steak knives, and the third was that you were fired - you still keep your steak knives in a place of honor back home...

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TopHat

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Re: Our Salvation: Tearing the Stitches of Reality
« Reply #1666 on: October 06, 2016, 11:25:16 am »

((Oof. Has anyone ever lost 2 Wounds to a single attack before?))

Welp, nice try Minstep. My turn.
Wait for the UFOs to get into range, then take the Measure of them. They don't really look entirely alive, at least, and there's nothing else to do which could stop them.
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I would ask why fire can burn two men to death without getting hot enough to burn a book, but then I read "INEXTINGUISHABLE RUNNING KAMIKAZE RADIOACTIVE FLAMING ZOMBIE" and realized that logic, reason, and physics are all occupied with crying in the corner right now.

Harry Baldman

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Re: Our Salvation: Tearing the Stitches of Reality
« Reply #1667 on: October 06, 2016, 11:27:40 am »

((Oof. Has anyone ever lost 2 Wounds to a single attack before?))

It's what happens when there's a difference of at least 4 between the rolls.
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AoshimaMichio

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Re: Our Salvation: Tearing the Stitches of Reality
« Reply #1668 on: October 06, 2016, 02:23:05 pm »

Fire? With what? Hmh. Time to test minding again. APOCALYPSE seems possibly too dangerous this close to the Corner.

One ring of fire, please! Completely surrounding the oak safe distance away. Substituting reality with my own. Too bad I can't really tell if it is mere illusion in my head or real.
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Toaster

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Re: Our Salvation: Tearing the Stitches of Reality
« Reply #1669 on: October 06, 2016, 09:46:17 pm »

((Ow))

Ugh.  Thomas wasn't sure what had just hit him, and he wasn't keen on finding out.  "No, no, I think that's quite enough for today.  I rather think I don't want that to happen again.


Quietly nope off into some cover, and maybe see about tending to injuries.  Mainly don't get hit again though.
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HMR stands for Hazardous Materials Requisition, not Horrible Massive Ruination, though I can understand how one could get confused.
God help us if we have to agree on pizza toppings at some point. There will be no survivors.

Xantalos

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Re: Our Salvation: Tearing the Stitches of Reality
« Reply #1670 on: October 07, 2016, 01:07:24 am »

angry

Attempt to pickpocket the well's vessel again. Two times a charm!
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penguinofhonor

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Re: Our Salvation: Tearing the Stitches of Reality
« Reply #1671 on: October 07, 2016, 02:17:51 pm »

"Yes, that sounds fascinating." I follow the fisher to the temple.
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Harry Baldman

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Re: Our Salvation: Tearing the Stitches of Reality
« Reply #1672 on: October 07, 2016, 04:42:54 pm »

Welp, nice try Minstep. My turn.
Wait for the UFOs to get into range, then take the Measure of them. They don't really look entirely alive, at least, and there's nothing else to do which could stop them.

[Measure What Is Measurable: 2]

You break out the measure, and point it toward the incoming snaking longboat, noting how it seems to have a surprisingly inconsistent size as perspective seems to utterly fail to apply to it at times. The measure appears similarly confused, its presence bursting forward and meeting the thing mid-air, then abruptly returning as it starts to bear down on you, leaving you looking a little silly as you stand there holding a skull in the face of an oncoming ship attack.

[Deer In The Headlights: 3 vs. 3]

Fortunately, you do manage to get the hell out of the way mostly by virtue of a convenient Mr. Daniels coming over to steal your shit providing you with a handy face to kick off from, popping the cover back over the measure in a smooth motion as you roll out of the way, this round of supernatural jousting proving just as unsatisfying for the ghost ship as the last.

Although that's definitely a better fate than what happens to its friend, you notice as you continue to observe as Mr. Daniels mindstabs the incoming glacier seemingly more than half to death, the strange skybound object dragging along the ground for a moment longer in surprise and sudden weakness before the other armed psychopaths in the area decide to take the opportunity to finish the job with startling success.

Fire? With what? Hmh. Time to test minding again. APOCALYPSE seems possibly too dangerous this close to the Corner.

One ring of fire, please! Completely surrounding the oak safe distance away. Substituting reality with my own. Too bad I can't really tell if it is mere illusion in my head or real.

That's... certainly a solution of some kind.

[The Mind Is A Burning Thing: 3]

Or so you'd assume. It's fairly easy to imagine yourself being surrounded by horrible fire, since you kind of were earlier today. You have a little more trouble with the notion of burning to death within it, which is a sensible assumption for what would happen if you stood inside a ring of fire encircling an oak, and so you consequently also have more than a bit of trouble warming yourself on it by that same measure. Needless to say, Lee, who can't even see any of this, seems unimpressed even while entirely asleep.

((Ow))

Ugh.  Thomas wasn't sure what had just hit him, and he wasn't keen on finding out.  "No, no, I think that's quite enough for today.  I rather think I don't want that to happen again.


Quietly nope off into some cover, and maybe see about tending to injuries.  Mainly don't get hit again though.

[Scurrying Like A Rat: 6]

You crawl away on all fours, going away from the sounds of kicking, stabbing and screaming, until you make it safely to a crevice slightly off the road, climbing blindly into the first shadowy hole that will take you. It's not too bad of a shadowy hole at that, and seems to go down pretty deep, though right now you can't say you feel like spelunking much, being a little more concerned about your bodily integrity presently.

angry

Attempt to pickpocket the well's vessel again. Two times a charm!

You guess it's technically the third time, and hey, both of Mr. Wilde's hands are busy so this really can't fail in the exact way it failed a few moments ago!

[EXCUSE ME SIR: 3 vs. 5]

And indeed it doesn't, as Mr. Wilde, perhaps panicking a little, kicks you square in the face as he uses you as a platform for his attempt to duck out of the way, a rather large ship of light going right past you as your head smacks against the guard as you literally fold in half this time, taking a moment to straighten out. A red mist begins to fall as you contemplate maiming someone to hold back your stress.

[You're In My Way, Sir: 2 vs. 5+1]

And at exactly this moment you are startled by the metallic buzz and discordant hollering of a giant glacier of solid light about to run you over and, not having any convenient faces to jump off of like your good friend over there, you go for the fight response instead, making up for your lack of bones with sheer ill intent as you send your murder-thought reflexively into the approaching form and sends black hairline cracks through it virulently as it slams into you like a gentle summer breeze, pieces of it flowing over you, reminding you of the hottest shower you've ever taken as steam rises off your naked body and the glacier reforms on the other side of you as if assembled by a blind man, limping in its trajectory, pieces dragging along the ground as it tries to take off.

[Moment of Truth: 3+1 vs. 6]

The Worm-knight chooses this moment to strike, surging forward with sword in hand, stabbing at the injured form of the sea-raider, only for it to find no purchase in the misty, indistinct shape as it counterattacks, a piece of it striking her square in the chest - she twitches as she falls backwards as if electrocuted, and you hear the sound of holy mantras fill the air as little wisps of light rise off her.

[Attack of Opportunity: 3+2 vs. 4]

No sooner does this happen than you see the turnkey move up from the back. He tilts his head, narrowing his eyes, looking carefully into the wounded form. You think he sees something as his eyes darken briefly, and he hurls his trusty knife right into the middle, and suddenly the whole thing shrieks powerfully, the nearby guard captain, having taken position up on a bluff, smiling gently as the dying fire glimmers in his eyes.

[Death of a Sea Beast: 5]

The nearly shattered thing lets out a poorly imitated scream and jitters wildly as its shattered form proceeds to liquefy around the turnkey's knife, its voice slowing and becoming more and more garbled as it melts into the ground. Rather peculiarly the knife hangs in the air for a good long while as the heart of the glacier and the giant upon it melt into a primordial soup that pours onto the ground, bubbling as it corrodes reality along the ground before dissipating entirely.

Oddly enough, the knife still hangs there even as the turnkey goes to get it, pulling it out of the air with a strange loud twang before putting it back in his sleeve where it belongs.

"Yes, that sounds fascinating." I follow the fisher to the temple.

The fisher seems a little excited, though also still rather injured as she begins to swim out, not particularly needing to pause to let you keep up as her shoulder slows her down noticeably. You head into the dark, and she once again wraps her handlike tentacles around yours and pulls you deeper in, and you feel a passing urchin tickle your face slightly and tiny tentacles probing at bits of you as you twist and turn through the sessile jungle of the pitch black deep.

Eventually, though, you reach what feels like a passage, soft undulating life lining a passage made of spongy, yet rather sharp coral, the fisher pushing through membranous webs and veering along labyrinthine turns, until finally you come to what feels like a considerably larger chamber, and through the overgrown darkness you see a faint blue light.

This is the temple, the fisher says. Nobody comes here - good place to rest a while. Too small for dangerous fish, you see. No food here, though.

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Toaster

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Re: Our Salvation: Tearing the Stitches of Reality
« Reply #1673 on: October 07, 2016, 06:34:41 pm »

Rest and recover; best way to ride out this storm.
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HMR stands for Hazardous Materials Requisition, not Horrible Massive Ruination, though I can understand how one could get confused.
God help us if we have to agree on pizza toppings at some point. There will be no survivors.

AoshimaMichio

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Re: Our Salvation: Tearing the Stitches of Reality
« Reply #1674 on: October 08, 2016, 02:36:14 am »

"Pfffft."

Let's be traditional then. Dismiss that failure of imaginary fire and look around for something to burn. Stuff that isn't moldy or damp. Build a camp fire and set it on fire with... well I don't know. Go full caveman, maybe? I don't exacly want to give Lee a frisking to see if she got any firestarter kits.
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Xantalos

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Re: Our Salvation: Tearing the Stitches of Reality
« Reply #1675 on: October 08, 2016, 05:10:12 am »

Angry

"Wilde give me the egg right now"

Unless there are any more aberrations in reality making their way towards me (my current attitude towards them is summed up here), curl up into a ball and rest up a bit. Simmer my growing anger.
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penguinofhonor

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Re: Our Salvation: Tearing the Stitches of Reality
« Reply #1676 on: October 08, 2016, 05:56:08 am »

"Do other people come here?"

If the blue light has a perceptible source, I move towards it a little, but stay within conversation distance of the fisher. If I can't tell where the light is coming from, I search the area immediately around me to find out more about this place.
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TopHat

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Re: Our Salvation: Tearing the Stitches of Reality
« Reply #1677 on: October 08, 2016, 03:00:59 pm »

"Oh, yes, so you can open the magical thing which is supposed to be opened in a dark, secluded area near a human population in an open, light, currently busy area in a place it'll probably take a generation for lots of people to return to. Forgive me for failing to see the benefit of your plan."

Time to bail. There's nothing more I can do here and it looks like the others have the problem well in hand.
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I would ask why fire can burn two men to death without getting hot enough to burn a book, but then I read "INEXTINGUISHABLE RUNNING KAMIKAZE RADIOACTIVE FLAMING ZOMBIE" and realized that logic, reason, and physics are all occupied with crying in the corner right now.

Harry Baldman

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Re: Our Salvation: Tearing the Stitches of Reality
« Reply #1678 on: October 09, 2016, 05:15:45 am »

Rest and recover; best way to ride out this storm.

You curl up in the cramped and dark passage and try to nope the pain away. Your bones slowly settle into the places you remember them being in. Guess they weren't really broken after all, huh.

That was a nice effect, though. It really did feel like you flew into the sky for a bit there. You wonder how they did that. You didn't feel any lines, or really any other kind of interference.

"Pfffft."

Let's be traditional then. Dismiss that failure of imaginary fire and look around for something to burn. Stuff that isn't moldy or damp. Build a camp fire and set it on fire with... well I don't know. Go full caveman, maybe? I don't exacly want to give Lee a frisking to see if she got any firestarter kits.

[Art of Survival: 6]

You stack some branches and dry grass together in a vague campfire and stack some stones along the edges for a very much by-the-numbers Phase One of being a master survivalist. That leaves you with Phase Two, which is actually making the damn thing burn. You try for about half an hour with the old desert island trick of rubbing a small stick into some dry grass, but the damn thing refuses to light.

So what you do instead is grab a dry branch and head over to one of the more glowy nearby craters, and light the end of it in the water, then bring the white flame back to the campfire, whereupon you find it catches fire very readily. It's really quite warm, except when it's unusually cold. But hey, at least it shows funny images and faces in the flames, so at least you won't be dying of boredom while Lee has her nap.

Angry

"Wilde give me the egg right now"

Unless there are any more aberrations in reality making their way towards me (my current attitude towards them is summed up here), curl up into a ball and rest up a bit. Simmer my growing anger.

[Looking Elsewhere: 3]

The longboat in the sky snakes about, examining the situation on the ground for a short while as you look up at it. It seems to be weighing the options for a bit. On the one hand, what happened to its comrade seems to be pretty dang unfortunate.

On the other hand, if you're gonna die, why not die gloriously?

[Divebombing For Valhalla: 5 vs. 3+1]

The boat spirals through the air as it flies toward you, and you send your murder-thought forth to strike it, only for the thing to nimbly snake right out of the way. You swing the murder-thought back, but the boat executes a roll you can best describe as physically impossible, your sharp murderous intent scraping along its hull, leaving a small black mark. You roar and go for one more stab as it goes in for the low strike, and the boat abruptly splits into two on either side of you, its crew letting off a chorus of extremely pleased guffaws as they hang off the inside of the bisected hull, broad undulating swords drawn and swinging toward you like

Ninety nine blades exactly pass through your flesh, blood pouring out of you as each carves out a chunk of your flesh for itself, flowers of gore that explode into multicolored cinders blooming as your flesh dances upon their unnatural blades. You stumble and nearly fall as the ship starts to get back together on the other end, the crew raising their swords to the sky as they praise distorted versions of Norse gods for their immaculate success.

[Worm's Revenge: 6+1 vs. 5]

As the ship passes low, however, you see the Worm-knight, rising from the ground and running for another swing at things - she jumps at the front of the ship from a dead sprint, where on the bow a dragon's head roars along with the crew, faint otherworldly flames emanating from its throat, her sword going straight for the jugular and striking true, sawing into the side of the ship, a spray of arterial blood going out to the sky, droplets of blood elongating into elaborate tapeworm patterns as they arc and curl unnaturally. The dragon shrieks, letting off a gust of flame, and the Worm-knight does not finish the job before the crew stops their celebration and starts to descend toward her with otherworldly fury, at which point she lets go of the ship, hitting the ground at a roll as she flees the ship, blades flying her way as raiders hang off the hull, trying to reach her without stepping off the ship, the dragon starting to veer chaotically along the landscape as it tries to close its horrific wound and fails.

[Murder In Silence: 1+1 vs. 5]

At this point you notice the turnkey, who seems to have climbed atop the ship with the advantage of distraction, approaching the beating sails of the thrashing dragon for a moment before the crew, sensing his unsteady footsteps on the shivering deck, turn to him in unison and charge.

[The Joy of Annihilation: 2+2 vs. 3]

As he turns to go and dive off the ship, you see the captain of the castle guard beneath the ship, looking terribly satisfied as he plunges his sword experimentally into the keel of the dragon with a decisive thrust, then twists and holds still while kneeling. The dragon thrashes one way, opening up a large gash as its motions work against it, its actual weight horribly inconsistent with any laws of physics you are familiar with. His sword parts the keel as the dragon effectively disembowels itself, otherworldly treasures spilling out of its hold, unfamiliar objects and distressed raiders alike falling out of it and shattering against the ground with musical screams, and in the middle of them the turnkey also falls, now five bubbling scars richer for his failed sneak attack as he quickly recovers, shooting the elderly guard a meaningful and more than a little grateful look.

[Die Gloriously: 4]

The dragon tries to ascend up again and fails, falling down to the ground, a blazing trail of twitching, smoking grass left in its wake as it drags itself to face its opponents, ready for one last round of fighting before it dies as it inevitably should. It roars with the same voice as its crew, and you see fire building in its eyes as it pulls its carcass forcibly forwards.

"Do other people come here?"

If the blue light has a perceptible source, I move towards it a little, but stay within conversation distance of the fisher. If I can't tell where the light is coming from, I search the area immediately around me to find out more about this place.

Only rarely does someone arrive. Some are more different than others. She knows someone saw a person from the deep come here, but for what reason they could not say. Perhaps something on the other side.

As for the blue light, that is easy enough to go toward, and the fisher follows you as you head on, reaching what feel like stairs coated in slimy algae, your touch disturbing little hills on them that disgorge small swarms of scavenging crustaceans - they nip at you for a moment, but produce little more than a tiny burning sensation as you pass over them. You ponder whether you're really ascending or descending. Descending, you suppose, in relation to gravity. Though your brain seems to have adapted well to inverted subjective gravity.

Coming closer, you observe the bottom of the chamber, illuminated in a faint blue light, fauna and flora arranged in the shape of a long-forgotten mural of something you do not at all recognize. And then, once you reach the very top of the stairs, you see where the light was coming from.

It's a blue pillar of light let off from a single luminescent organ behind which it takes you alarmingly long to notice a large, stony mouth of an even larger petrified eyeless fish, and at its foot is a pool of water, well-lit in blue. On the other side you see its counterpart, an eternal flame, still operating unabated by some unknown mechanism, and little more beyond that.

She has always wondered what was on the other side, the fisher breaks the silence, the slight noise causing the jaws of the disguised fish twitch and nearly slam shut. She tried to check once. Was hard to see anything, and she ran out of breath.

"Oh, yes, so you can open the magical thing which is supposed to be opened in a dark, secluded area near a human population in an open, light, currently busy area in a place it'll probably take a generation for lots of people to return to. Forgive me for failing to see the benefit of your plan."

Time to bail. There's nothing more I can do here and it looks like the others have the problem well in hand.

You leave Mr. Daniels and friends to it as you run for the hills. They don't seem to mind much. Well, except Nately, who runs after you, simultaneously a little disappointed that you seem to be running away from this excellent adventure and more than a little relieved to be further away from Mr. Daniels.

[Sense of Excellent Direction: 4]

You run down the road and rendezvous with Deirdre, who seems very much sympathetic to the issue of running away, but also suggests that maybe a good direction to do that in would maybe be into the woods, at least for a bit. You'd be much more difficult to find in there, she's fairly sure.

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AoshimaMichio

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Re: Our Salvation: Tearing the Stitches of Reality
« Reply #1679 on: October 09, 2016, 05:54:49 am »

((Whoah, what happened to my body count? It literally exploded.))

I stare at the fire for few minutes before adopting "warrior sage meditating by fire" pose and going back to my mental world. There I construct Bifröst which will be my point of entrance and exit between the two realms. Check in with Hœnir about that prophecy of his before I go cooking more fine mead in Hymir's cauldron.

"I'm pretty sure it wouldn't gone that way if you hadn't warned me in first place. Damn self-fulfilling prophecies."
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I told you to test with colors! But nooo, you just had to go clone mega-Satan or whatever.
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