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Author Topic: Our Salvation: It Is Written  (Read 262264 times)

AoshimaMichio

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Re: Our Salvation: Halfway To Sheol
« Reply #1860 on: December 07, 2016, 01:38:55 pm »

"Seventy? You look a hella lot younger than that, you lucky bastard!"

In regards of "coincidental" clansmeet: "Really now? What a coincidence indeed. It matches suspiciously with prophecy of that apocalyptic burning bush." Elaborate said prophecy if requested, but make sure mention "a guy like you" part doesn't necessarily mean me. There are others matching that description, like Mr. Daniels, Ms. Minett and... have I even seen others? I don't remember anymore.


((I forgot about this one.))

"Oh, and talking about prophecies, Hœnir, one of gods, gave me another that's slightly puzzling. I have to find out 'what makes men into houses'. Got any puzzle solving skill in you?" It's rain, isn't it?
« Last Edit: December 07, 2016, 01:59:30 pm by AoshimaMichio »
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Re: Our Salvation: Halfway To Sheol
« Reply #1861 on: December 07, 2016, 02:46:00 pm »

"Er.  I can't say that I have, sir. We've been walking this way all day though, and we just about to stop for the night.  I can't even say I would know where to look for worms!"

Converse.  Also ponder places to sleep for the night.
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HMR stands for Hazardous Materials Requisition, not Horrible Massive Ruination, though I can understand how one could get confused.
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Xantalos

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Re: Our Salvation: Halfway To Sheol
« Reply #1862 on: December 07, 2016, 06:08:47 pm »

"Man, who knew assaulting fortified locations was so damn boring? If only I still had my bones, then I could probably just tear down those walls myself."

How's the warehouse looking? Particularly vulnerable to an assault, or ...? How large are those holes I've drilled in the walls?
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penguinofhonor

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Re: Our Salvation: Halfway To Sheol
« Reply #1863 on: December 08, 2016, 08:51:37 am »

"I don't think the minders could speak to with the well, but they must have been using its power somehow. I think we can talk to it because of how we were summoned. We're not, uh, entirely human anymore. As far as the well's power... I have no way of knowing. It's definitely more powerful than I am."

I start heading upstairs as we talk.
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Harry Baldman

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Re: Our Salvation: Halfway To Sheol
« Reply #1864 on: December 08, 2016, 03:42:09 pm »

"Thanks.
Where does the road lead, then?"


Drink and ask one last question. Then answer any of his.

Deeper in, but around also. There is town, maybe. Castle further, probably. Capital somewhere. Sometimes closer. Sometimes further. They walk when restless. Bog shifts when hungry also.

You have a sip of water. It tastes a little antiseptic, but you get the feeling that clearing out that mother of tea is well worth it. Very helpful, you compliment the watchman. But you've been talking for so very long at this point - does he have any questions? The watchman ponders, his black eyes staring off into the distance for a minute. You let him think as you continue to sip from the glass. The water is startlingly palatable despite its rather off color.

The mummified creature begins to bang on its helmet again, and the watchman looks its way. He nods. There is question - what is shininess on face? Unusual. A hiss sounds from the skeleton - another question, the watchman translates, what was shaking? Came from north and west. See what made?

"Seventy? You look a hella lot younger than that, you lucky bastard!"

In regards of "coincidental" clansmeet: "Really now? What a coincidence indeed. It matches suspiciously with prophecy of that apocalyptic burning bush." Elaborate said prophecy if requested, but make sure mention "a guy like you" part doesn't necessarily mean me. There are others matching that description, like Mr. Daniels, Ms. Minett and... have I even seen others? I don't remember anymore.


((I forgot about this one.))

"Oh, and talking about prophecies, Hœnir, one of gods, gave me another that's slightly puzzling. I have to find out 'what makes men into houses'. Got any puzzle solving skill in you?" It's rain, isn't it?

It is a blessed life they lead here, Rose's father responds, hardly a surprise death's not keen to come knocking! Not to say there aren't dues to be paid, mind you! They're just paid in a far more creative fashion than the other folk tend to manage, hah! You hear Lee snort at this, but the man doesn't seem to be minding her at all still.

Speaking of blessed, you attempt to segue a little awkwardly, you do recall a prophecy! Told to you by a burning bush, in fact. A burning bush doesn't sound like an overly credible source, Rose's dorsal mother says. But a talking one might be of more interest, the ventral finishes the thought. It's not a disturbing prophecy though, is it, Rose asks with slight concern. Don't keep the people in suspense, the father booms, spit it out!

Well, you begin, it went a little like this: eyes among the stars have beheld the fate of the unintegrated clans, and would like them to know that if they were ever into reclaiming their not particularly ancestral homeland, now would be the time to do so! Especially if they could get some kind of otherworldly traveling sorcerer to help. Now, you're of course not saying that's you - it could be one of those other otherworldly traveling sorcerers you've met (at least two, in fact! hopefully they haven't died yet and you're not just talking out of your ass here!).

[Jumping At The Call: 2]

Haha, the father says, they do get those every now and then! Prophecies, that is! Yes, every now and then a Dragon does pipe up, usually when the clansmeet rolls around at that! Sensible, mind you! But you'll find the Gallflies to be the wrong kind of audience for that sort of talk! Downright tranquil sorts they are! Indeed, one of the mothers begins and the other continues, you'd be best off not mentioning such guff to the Storks or Monkeys or, god forbid, Dragons, or even somebody like the, er... Moths...

You look over at Lee. She's giving you another of those faintly angry looks. You decide not to return it. Right! So you were interested in a bit of a puzzle as well, now that you've gotten your mind on prophecy at all. Say, would the old man know what makes houses of men? Rain, perhaps?

[Mythical Cunning: 2]

A good foundation, says the father! That's how you make yourself a proper house - set down roots and sow your oats! You'll be a castle in your own right in no time at all! Or perhaps more like in thirty years or so, one of the mothers suggests. But well worth it nevertheless, the other one smiles. But rain's a good answer too, Rose offers in a conciliatory way.

"Er.  I can't say that I have, sir. We've been walking this way all day though, and we just about to stop for the night.  I can't even say I would know where to look for worms!"

Converse.  Also ponder places to sleep for the night.

If you saw one, the fellow says, you'd certainly know it. Hell, you'd almost certainly feel it. You remember that earthquake? That was the Big One! Most he's seen are smaller, of course. But you get the idea what kind of worm he's talking about. You've heard Australia tends to have them bigger than most places, you offer. The dwarf stares at you for a moment, unmoving and unbreathing. Yes, exactly!

Does he know of any good places to rest nearby, Claire asks, resting herself against your back for a moment. Well, he considers, there is his camp! He didn't bother setting a fire, of course, but he figures all the ingredients are there. Probably. It's been a while before he's had to set one himself. Tends to save them for emergencies! Right this way, he points you toward a nearby miniscule tent.

[The Blasted Lands: 5]

It takes a while to notice that there's another tent just nearby, mostly collapsed as it is, and the remains of a campfire that must have been lit not very long ago. Was the strangest thing, the dwarfish man explains, must have been people in it not too long ago. Found one of them a little ways off face-down in the dirt - she was bright orange and her tongue had been misplaced. Hadn't seen anything like it in all his years as a ranger, he'll tell you what.

"Man, who knew assaulting fortified locations was so damn boring? If only I still had my bones, then I could probably just tear down those walls myself."

How's the warehouse looking? Particularly vulnerable to an assault, or ...? How large are those holes I've drilled in the walls?

Turns out sieges take forever and aren't very fun for either side. Who knew, right? You give the warehouse a discerning look. There's quite a few holes in it now. You'd suppose it wouldn't be very difficult to go and maybe punch through the side wall properly if you had, say, some kind of pick, or maybe if this damn Word stopped being so consistently underwhelming and got back to shearing holes in reality and nonsense like that.

[Now We Wait: 3]

Maybe you just need to get in there or something. Or get closer at least. You bet if you could see inside this would all be over in a jiffy.

"I don't think the minders could speak to with the well, but they must have been using its power somehow. I think we can talk to it because of how we were summoned. We're not, uh, entirely human anymore. As far as the well's power... I have no way of knowing. It's definitely more powerful than I am."

I start heading upstairs as we talk.

You were summoned, and yet you sound a lot like you're from Throne College. Which is strange, she admits, because if that were true you'd think she would remember you, given you don't seem that far apart in age.

As for you not being human anymore, she says as the two of you cautiously go up the stairs, do elaborate. Were you once human, and now are not? Did you lose some degree of humanity on the way here? Something else?

It gets fortunately easier to make your way as you near the top of the stairs and light properly filters in to light your path, and you find yourself back in the hall. Much to your relief it doesn't appear to be shaking or twisting anymore, even if the staircase upward seems to have collapsed, the entrance is still folded in on itself and there is still a distressing red splotch on the wall in the shape of the wall. But the big picture, you know, the big picture!

Place looks much better already, the doctor says as she emerges from behind you. You notice she's lost her bedsheet, and she notices right after. Ah, yes. It was a bit precarious to begin with. The bit with the rift seems to have unfortunately gotten it well and truly lost. Well, it and those wool things you gave her. A little awkward to carry in an emergency, it turns out. Good that you've found clothes, however! They're a little gray, sure (stoat clothes often are, but at least these are clean). You think they'd fit her? Maybe she should take a bath first, though. She seems to have neglected herself a little in past weeks, she notices.

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Xantalos

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Re: Our Salvation: Halfway To Sheol
« Reply #1865 on: December 08, 2016, 06:38:58 pm »

"Well, this is what contingencies are for."

Fortunately, I have that wooden door still. Use that as a makeshift shield while I get closer to the warehouse.
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Re: Our Salvation: Halfway To Sheol
« Reply #1866 on: December 08, 2016, 10:56:18 pm »

Ah!  A park ranger!  Quite a good find.  "Ah, yes, very good!  We will stay here the night; thank you for the offer!  So, how long have you been a ranger here?  Finding it quite enjoyable?"


Prepare for the night.  Converse more.
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AoshimaMichio

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Re: Our Salvation: Halfway To Sheol
« Reply #1867 on: December 09, 2016, 03:14:30 am »

((Interestingly, Jack still has those rats.))

"Hoh, packed with prophecies? Where I come from prophecies are rare and almost universally made up with no divine backing. Guess I should pay no heed to any that's not coming directly from Æsir, and theirs tend to be self-fulfilling."

Inquire about the clans around this (to me) unkown side of the world.
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penguinofhonor

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Re: Our Salvation: Halfway To Sheol
« Reply #1868 on: December 09, 2016, 06:46:19 am »

"Thorne College? Never heard of it. I went to Kent State University, at least until I wound up here. Back then I was a normal human, as far as I can tell, but being brought here has changed my body somehow. I can survive wounds that would have killed me before, and heal from them in hours. I also don't feel hunger, and don't have to breathe."

I begin looking around for an escape hatch. Surely a building this unstable would have something like that.
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TopHat

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Re: Our Salvation: Halfway To Sheol
« Reply #1869 on: December 09, 2016, 02:16:00 pm »

"The glow is the result of... misused magic, itself a result of my brother doing his level best to kill me for reasons I still don't grasp. The earthquake was a seperate incident, apparently caused by some idiot messing about with the worst possible magic in the worst possible place and calling forth some kind of underground reservoir of magic. You seem to have got off lightly here, though, unlike near Anglefork."


Exposit.
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Harry Baldman

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Re: Our Salvation: Halfway To Sheol
« Reply #1870 on: December 10, 2016, 09:32:13 am »

"Well, this is what contingencies are for."

Fortunately, I have that wooden door still. Use that as a makeshift shield while I get closer to the warehouse.

You hold up your wooden door on your boneless arms and slowly begin to wobble forward. Slings, stones and arrows fail to rain upon you at every step, and both danger and mortal peril are nowhere to be seen as you make clamlike progress toward the wall, dragging yourself forward as you hold the door up at a 45 degree angle. The storehouse seems to have been disquieted by your persistently murderous assault, and barely a motion can be heard for the time being as you shuffle up to examine the hole in the wall, putting your eye up to it.

[Eyes On You: 6]

What you see inside is quite an assemblage of supplies, pallets and barrels and a multitude of boxes, no doubt once ready to ship out at a moment's notice. Right now, however, you notice that they seem to be smoking gently, a flame beginning to rise to one side. Nearby you see two stoatmen and a small old man, each of them missing seemingly very vital chunks as they lay on the ground in large pools of quickly drying blood. And above, on the walkways lining the top of the building, you see about half a dozen stoatmen and a very much human woman, most of them cowering by the walls in an effort to not be seen. The way they look at the opposite side tells you that there's probably a similar number over there. You hear them all shift suddenly as what you assume to be a meaningful nod comes from that direction, and with a look of obvious panic they all go for the windows.

You hear footfalls on the roof above, coming in your direction. You look up, and a man in surprisingly excellent clothes meets your eyes, his eyes filled with desperation as he dives off the rooftop toward you.

[Death From Below: 6 vs. 2]

You hold your shield up and the man lands onto you, squashing you beneath the door for a moment as your nerves go wild from the compression and the fragments of your bones grind sharply into your innards. You roar and push back up again in retaliation, and the man goes flying away, bellowing helplessly as he shoots away toward the river, clipping one of the nearby piers before tumbling into the river with a splash. You hear him start to instinctively tread water for dear life.

You do not manage to see this, of course, because immediately afterward a stoatman lands sinuously atop your door, crushing you once again briefly before you push back with a much less persuasive roar this time, and send this one flying a shorter distance upward and behind you, rolling on the ground and almost immediately afterward making a break for the river as well. Two more drop upon you as the royal guards start to charge in from afar, seeing the disastrous way this is about to unfold, and you violently throw them away like a humanoid springboard, your mouth and eyes now full of blood, your shape increasingly indistinct beneath the wooden door.

[A Royal Intervention: 6]

You hear the sound of an arrow being planted into the skull of the next one to fall upon you before you hurl them into the air. As they impact the ground nearby with the telltale sickening crack of a skeleton breaking in half, a royal guardsman decapitates one of the disoriented stoatmen you threw off previously. One stoatman does not chance jumping onto you - he lands in the clutches of a guardswoman who takes her time in strangling the life out of him. A couple holding on to each other land onto you, and you rocket them off into the township's general direction, their shapes making a sizable hole in one of the smoking roofs. You feel strength begin to drain out of you as a particularly corpulent stoatman squashes you beneath the door, and you don't so much throw him as roll him off. He starts to scramble away on all fours, and you catch a glimpse of him skittering into an alleyway as your murder-thought mutilates an adjacent street corner in failed and confused retaliation. You see a somewhat sizable dog get thrown at the charging commander from above. It starts licking her face and whimpering, and she is distracted for a moment as she puts it down and resumes charging the warehouse, the dog standing around in confusion before following behind and yapping with excitement. And finally the woman you recall seeing from before jumps on top of you, and you deflate under the door as you are ground into the dirt one last time. She stands up unsteadily over the door as guardsmen surround her. Don't hurt her, she shouts, she didn't-

You keen, your ruined throat unable to make any particularly human noise presently, and don't so much stand up as expand, your muscle oriented in a single direction as you raise the door by one side, pushing it and the woman on it into the wall. You push, seamlessly continuous with the door and ground, more starfish than man with your wealth of sucking wounds, shards of bone jutting out like spikes, boneless limbs moving in profoundly inhuman ways as you orient all your muscles in one direction and spend half a minute meticulously straining this woman through the hole in the wall you made while the guards observe with equal parts amazement and bemusement as her screaming becomes gurgling, and falls to an extended splortch as she makes it to the other side with a much more uniform texture and consistency.

That's certainly a solution, the royal guard commander says as the dog slowly approaches you and starts lapping at the door while you glare at the carnage all around you, a little disappointed there aren't more people to safely take out your frustration on. Got most of them, and the spectacle was really something else. Not to mention that... wait, is that crackling coming from inside the storehouse? The guardsmen exchange glances as the commander shoots a commanding look at them, and run off to investigate.

Ah!  A park ranger!  Quite a good find.  "Ah, yes, very good!  We will stay here the night; thank you for the offer!  So, how long have you been a ranger here?  Finding it quite enjoyable?"


Prepare for the night.  Converse more.

You head over to the larger tent and look into propping it back up - all the things you need seem to be there, even if the tent itself has a rather large gash cut into its side, seemingly for lack of patience in going out the proper way. Claire stands by and watches as you try to get it back together, occasionally offering a hand or a motivational yawn.

As for the ranger, he finds his line of work extraordinarily fulfilling! You wouldn't be in the same business for... well, must be fifty years! Yes, fifty years if you didn't enjoy it to some level! Only thing bothering him really is all the worms and such! Always moving about and wriggling, you know. Unseemly! He's not a big fan of bears either, personally. They're a tad overrated in his experience. But other than that, he must say that nature is indeed amazing!

Claire inhales sharply as you look inside the tent and takes a step back. Ah, says the ranger, there's another one! Wait, that's two - bit hard to tell where one ends and the other begins! Somewhat grisly, he supposes. Are they frozen solid? Oh my, and those expressions on their faces. Should probably put them somewhere else for the night at least!

((Interestingly, Jack still has those rats.))

"Hoh, packed with prophecies? Where I come from prophecies are rare and almost universally made up with no divine backing. Guess I should pay no heed to any that's not coming directly from Æsir, and theirs tend to be self-fulfilling."

Inquire about the clans around this (to me) unkown side of the world.

That's the way, yes! Prophecies are a fool's game at the best of times! Instead you'd best be tending to your own business - in agitated times like these, hardly need to stir the pot much more if you catch his meaning!

You chew contently on a whole sparrow for a moment, and ask about the clans. The clans, the father says! Ah, the ventral mother chuckles, a surefire way to get a discussion rolling, that question. You'd hardly even know where to begin, the dorsal mother adds. Nonsense! All things begin at one's own clan! And all too often end there, Rose mutters.

[An Unbiased Recounting: 2]

He laughs as he recalls something. He supposes there's no better place to begin than the Gallflies themselves! Familial! Trustworthy! Loyal! And very hospitable, he says as he places another vole in your hand! No other clan has quite the same kind of reputation, he's sure you'll find! Keep your things close next to a Monkey, they say, and keep your children safe from the Stork! Make way for the Dragon, and never touch a Treefrog! Keep your eye on any Moth, he smiles at Lee in apparent good humor that is similarly apparently not shared, and tread not in the web of the Spider! Deal carefully with the Dog, hunt not for the Snark, do not let the Goat run free! Treat the Worm with utmost respect, and look always uninteresting before the Shrike! But the Gallfly is always your friend if you are prepared to return the gesture! Even for a Rabbit such as you, the dorsal mother adds. Especially for a Rabbit, the ventral mother continues. Those poor things are always so lost, Rose shakes her head. Indeed, her father nods, but such is the way in the northlands!

"Thorne College? Never heard of it. I went to Kent State University, at least until I wound up here. Back then I was a normal human, as far as I can tell, but being brought here has changed my body somehow. I can survive wounds that would have killed me before, and heal from them in hours. I also don't feel hunger, and don't have to breathe."

I begin looking around for an escape hatch. Surely a building this unstable would have something like that.

So you've been altered in some myste- wait, you've never heard of Throne College? She claps her hands together. It's a wonderful place - simply wonderful! Imagine a library of ten million volumes and uncountable scrolls, preserved perfectly throughout the ages, lining shelves many stories tall winding around in dust-filled labyrinths you could walk around in for weeks and see no end in sight, where you could delve for a lifetime simply to discover its true extent and contents, or perhaps to find that one crucial clue that makes it all make sense. Imagine organizing conferences to try and decipher the topology of such a place, or how it came to be. Consider the length of study required to unravel the mysteries of such an incredible ancient place, and jumping into the fray to chip away at its foundations, hoping to god that in twenty years you might possibly dig out a diamond of searing truth!

Yes, that just about describes the Imaginary section of Throne College's great library, the doctor says wistfully. She tended more toward the newer sections. Didn't have the head for many of the algorithms required to navigate too deeply, but she did go on regular trips with one of the professors' groups. It was a lot like climbing a mountain, right down to the lack of oxygen in certain places. A fantastic place if you've a mind for adventure - she tended to work with what they brought back for the most part. The rest of the College was no less impressive - ostentatious in a way only something built with no sense of practicality could be, a repository of six thousand years of history, art, science and literature that never happened, and yet strangely existent all the same. A whole other world. She sighs. It's a shame there's no going back there, really.

[A Convenient Hatch: 2]

But what of this Kent State University, she asks. Huh, you reply as you search around for an alternative exit, and conclude that there are unfortunately no windows to dive through in this hallway, and that any hatches to, say, an attic are probably on the second floor. This university you went to, she repeats. What was it like?

"The glow is the result of... misused magic, itself a result of my brother doing his level best to kill me for reasons I still don't grasp. The earthquake was a seperate incident, apparently caused by some idiot messing about with the worst possible magic in the worst possible place and calling forth some kind of underground reservoir of magic. You seem to have got off lightly here, though, unlike near Anglefork."


Exposit.

The mummified thing squeaks and continues to play its helmet like an off-rhythm drum. Good knowing that, the watchman translates after a long minute. Bog shelters, bog preserves. Nothing gets far into bog before bog gets into it.

You sip your water sagely from the glass. It's a bit of a shame when you run out. Was rather good, truth be told.

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Xantalos

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Re: Our Salvation: Halfway To Sheol
« Reply #1871 on: December 10, 2016, 01:30:49 pm »

*wheeze*

"Hhhhhaaate ... fffffuckinnng ... jumpers. Kill them slow."


No time to waste, quickly make my way away from this damn warehouse. What was the reward for doing this again? Getting to sleep on a bed, I think?
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penguinofhonor

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Re: Our Salvation: Halfway To Sheol
« Reply #1872 on: December 11, 2016, 09:56:36 am »

"Oh, you know, a pretty normal state college. Brick buildings and boring landscaping, a few dozen thousand students, and a lot of black squirrels. A ton of research is done there, but not on magical topics. All in all, I think Thorne is a bit more interesting."

I inspect the collapsed upward staircase. How high up would I have to be to reach the second floor? If it seems like I can climb up on the rubble, or stack the nearby desk/bed and climb up on them, then I do so.
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Re: Our Salvation: Halfway To Sheol
« Reply #1873 on: December 11, 2016, 10:12:04 am »

Thomas looked into the tent.  Uhhh...  "Ah, uh, yes?  Indeed?"

What am I seeing here?  Offer words of advice, though they're probably not really helpful at all.
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HMR stands for Hazardous Materials Requisition, not Horrible Massive Ruination, though I can understand how one could get confused.
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Re: Our Salvation: Halfway To Sheol
« Reply #1874 on: December 11, 2016, 04:54:54 pm »

"Very interesting. If you'll excuse me though, I'd like to rest a little now. Best be fresh for the morning journey."

Conclude the conversation, then it's time for a spot of rest, methinks. Stay awake, though, and try to monitor the healing process if at all possible. Could be interesting.
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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.
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