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Author Topic: Our Salvation: It Is Written  (Read 262293 times)

AoshimaMichio

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Re: Our Salvation: Halfway To Sheol
« Reply #1920 on: January 01, 2017, 11:35:15 am »

"..."

"Shit."


Well, since it appears I'm all alone here it should be easy to persuade reality: I have aura of light.
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Toaster

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Re: Our Salvation: Halfway To Sheol
« Reply #1921 on: January 01, 2017, 02:25:34 pm »

Ah, that's it!  "Ah, yes!"

Maneuver for the pincer.  Go in together.
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Re: Our Salvation: Halfway To Sheol
« Reply #1922 on: January 02, 2017, 02:50:18 pm »

"Where was I? Oh, thank you. I'll be along then."
If the gap looks small enough, chuck the mummy across and jump it. Otherwise, just walk through.
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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: Halfway To Sheol
« Reply #1923 on: January 02, 2017, 05:05:53 pm »

Suddenly remember I have clothes now. Probably a good idea to put those on.

Anyway, after that extract Alphonse from my garden of thoughts and transplant him into the world ... right in front of me, let's say. He's going to be my new travelling companion!

Not that he has a choice, naturally.


"Hello Alphonse. See, wasn't so bad, was it?"

You put your clothes back on, a little surprised at how well they've kept in your possession. Hardly any blood - no, hardly even any creases. You put them on. You keep forgetting how nice it is to be clothed. Makes you feel almost human.

Anyway, you uproot Alphonse with a sweep of your hand. He appears without a sound, your hand around his throat. See, you say as he looks at you paralyzed with fear, wasn't that terrible at all, was it?

[I Have Seen Things: 4]

He stares at you terrified for a few moments before you realize you're constricting his windpipe. You loosen your grip. Better?

Yes yes yes thank you thank you don't kill him good lord thank you thank you, he keeps saying. Content with his arrangements, it seems. You say he's to come with you, and he dares not object. Great to find common ground so quickly!

"..."

"Shit."


Well, since it appears I'm all alone here it should be easy to persuade reality: I have aura of light.

Indeed it is - you hardly need to strain yourself to make your eyes see more than they probably should. You engage the darkness with your vision, and then negate it - all that are left to engage are the walls, so you get a very good look at the surrounding area.

[Warrens of the North: 2]

There's not a lot of it presently. You seem to have wound up in a crevice, and not a very large one at all. Barely enough to crawl in, far less than you would be comfortable with. Goes on for a while too, hundred feet both ways at the very least (mindsight gets a little fuzzy beyond that, unfortunately) in an approximate, north-south line gently curving both ways toward the west.

Ah, that's it!  "Ah, yes!"

Maneuver for the pincer.  Go in together.

[Pack Tactics: 2]

Unfortunately for you the beast seems to understand enough human communication to have at least a notion of what your plan might be, and as you try to maneuver to the side of it the thing instead rears back and goes to the same side, making sure to keep a careful eye on the approaching ranger. You go all in regardless, and this goes on for a good 30 seconds before the ranger has about enough of observing bemusedly and goes in for a tackle, screaming wildly and baring his black teeth for a good gumming of the thing's exposed neck.

[Favored Enemy: 2 vs. 2]

It... sort of works, you observe as the dwarfish figure collides with the bat-jackal-fox thing, and the two of them engage in a grapple to the death on the green, the ranger seemingly having the upper hand but lacking the dentition to take proper advantage of it. It's not quite a compelling enough battle to consider observing from afar, so you go in for the decisive blow.

[Fork 'Em: 3+1+1 vs. 5]

You stand over the pile of both ranger and forest fauna, and periodically bring your fork up to strike at the creature, but then lower it as the ranger rather inconveniently winds up on top of the grapple. You trot after them as they roll down the plain, awkwardly attempting to interject but failing as the ranger, seemingly quite into this wrestling thing, spits foul blood curses at the creature and tries to throttle it only for the thing to keep wriggling out of convenient strangling position.

[Man Flip: 1]

As they roll over to a crater and start going uphill, the incline slightly disorganizing but not at all impeding their continued progress, you wonder if perhaps warning them about the humming, buzzing pool of boiling toxic waste would be appreciated under the circumstances.

"Where was I? Oh, thank you. I'll be along then."
If the gap looks small enough, chuck the mummy across and jump it. Otherwise, just walk through.

They're either glad to help or every second of their lives is unending torment. They don't seem to have a solid opinion either way. So you head on toward the break in the road and consider crossing on your own.

[Mind The Gap: 3]

Rather unfortunately it seems to be right in the middle between what you would consider a sure jumping distance, a little more than five feet but definitely a little less than ten. You figure you can risk it, and pick the mummy up off your back and chuck it across. The feticheur on the other side helpfully catches it and wastes no time in lifting it up and shaking it resolutely.

[Running Start: 5]

Then you get ready to leap to the other side as well, and it's really a lot less difficult than you'd perhaps feared, the exoskeletal footing sure enough for you to get across in a single leap and not a drop of bogwater disturbed. Clambering up to the top, you go over to retrieve your mummy. The feticheur has begun banging her stick against its helmet, the clatter produced being quite resonant. You pull the poor creature from her hands and wrap it back around your shoulders. She is about to shake her stick at you but suddenly stops, raising one shriveled earhole to the wind. The giant quiets down as well.

You listen as well. Is that a buzzing in the air?

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« Last Edit: January 09, 2017, 06:19:14 am by Harry Baldman »
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Xantalos

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Re: Our Salvation: Halfway To Sheol
« Reply #1924 on: January 02, 2017, 05:13:29 pm »

"Right, good. I figure travelling with someone's better than alone, and I can always just put you back in that storage if we run into trouble. Oh, and before you ask, you're not going back to your village, not that you'd want to anyway. Got overtaken by some sort of supernatural cordryceps fungus or something, I had nothing to do with it but it'd probably be hazardous to someone not like me. Ever fancied visiting El? We're going there, or thereabouts. Let's go, shall we?"

After setting things straight, let's the both of us start going down that path I saw.
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AoshimaMichio

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Re: Our Salvation: Halfway To Sheol
« Reply #1925 on: January 02, 2017, 11:41:45 pm »

Leif sighs. This is a very bad monday.

Wiggle and worm my way in direction that feels mostly like north.
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penguinofhonor

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Re: Our Salvation: Halfway To Sheol
« Reply #1926 on: January 03, 2017, 06:08:26 am »

Hm, there's got to be something else in here I can use as a weapon. I begin rummaging through drawers and cabinets.
« Last Edit: January 04, 2017, 01:36:11 pm by penguinofhonor »
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Toaster

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Re: Our Salvation: Halfway To Sheol
« Reply #1927 on: January 03, 2017, 11:03:55 pm »

"Oh!  Mind the toxic waste pool!  Looks dangerous?"

Warn them.  Maybe kick the thing when it's down.
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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.

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Re: Our Salvation: Halfway To Sheol
« Reply #1928 on: January 04, 2017, 08:24:32 am »

Oh, dear; that's probably not good. Listen.
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Harry Baldman

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Re: Our Salvation: Halfway To Sheol
« Reply #1929 on: January 05, 2017, 12:11:34 pm »

"Right, good. I figure travelling with someone's better than alone, and I can always just put you back in that storage if we run into trouble. Oh, and before you ask, you're not going back to your village, not that you'd want to anyway. Got overtaken by some sort of supernatural cordryceps fungus or something, I had nothing to do with it but it'd probably be hazardous to someone not like me. Ever fancied visiting El? We're going there, or thereabouts. Let's go, shall we?"

After setting things straight, let's the both of us start going down that path I saw.

He nods readily to all of your suggestions right up until you mention the wondrous land of El. He preambles this with profuse apologies, afraid to ask a rather silly question, but isn't El some 200 miles away? You pause. Maybe. But if so, you'd suggest to start walking sooner rather than later. Road's right there, after all. He looks as well. The blazed trail, you mean? The blazed trail, ah! Yes, you can go on the glass road! He glances back at the town of Anglefork. Preferably speedily!

And it is indeed speedily that you mosey along over the ruins and onto the road. It's fairly smooth going as you wander into the night, the road lacking any particular signage as it winds through the forests and the hills, its rough outlines making it look more like a lava stream than an actual path.

[The Blazing Trail: 5]

It does not take long at all for you to see an outline in the distance as the woods, having initially deepened for a good few miles, start to rapidly thin again, and it is a little after dawn when civilization is once again within sight, with Alphonse trailing exhaustedly behind you at this point, not daring to slow down as your murder-thought nips at his heels. The black path continues on between several farms with uncultivated fields stretching on for quite a distance, and beyond them you see a village surrounded in a tall wooden palisade, a gentle river meandering past it to the southwest as the blazed trail circles the palisade exactly once and follows it very closely. Behind the village you see a tall mast of shining copper, a white-and-gold banner emblazoned with the radiant image of the sun flying from it.

Hornsweir, your companion says weakly. Best not go there. Maybe, he says as his knees begin to give way, maybe you can stop in one of the farms? Nobody lives there anymore.

Leif sighs. This is a very bad monday.

Wiggle and worm my way in direction that feels mostly like north.

[The Veins of the Earth: 5]

Fortunately for you the tunnel widens as you crawl northward, committed to at least that much in the way of direction. Water flows in underground brooks and tiny troglodytic fauna nibbles at you every now and then before you chase it off with a stern word. You manage to get to your single foot and start jumping ahead, a gallery of split earth opening up ahead of you, trapped bats flying every which way at your approach, scattering into a myriad passages from the ceiling which has now grown rather incredibly tall.

The river continues on here underground now that the crevice seems to have closed up, rushing water at the bottom of a hundred-foot drop, both sides bridged by quasi-natural-looking connections of stone. It is about as dramatic a cave as you've ever seen, with stalactites menacing from above and blue, glowing torches lining the walls, illuminating the rather long gallery in a faintly mystical light that plays tricks with your eyes as mindsight and regular vision overlap and fight for dominance of your mental focus. Tunnels lead every which way from here, some with torches along their sides and quite a few without, and most of them not even accessible from the floor of the gallery, instead serving as little balconies, presumably for unseen figures to watch you. Not that any appear to be around as you check the various vantage points and hop around the place, still leaking blood all the way. Maybe if you shout for them or something.

Hm, there's got to be something else in here I can use as a weapon. I begin rummaging through drawers and cabinets.

[Tools of the Trade: 5]

You root through the desk for anything at all useful for the noble art of murder, and mostly find writing supplies of various kinds in the first few drawers - there's a drawer full of quills of varied sources, with a fountain pen mixed in here and there along with a strange-looking stylus that reminds you strongly of pencil lead in texture - a pen from El, the doctor says as she looks over your shoulder, folding up her steel feather fan and tucking it into her dress. Like writing in charcoal, but far more precise. Erasable too. She grabs a couple of quills as well as the pencil for good measure - you never know.

The next drawer is filled with many sheets of parchment as well as wooden tablets, clay tablets, and a single sheet of brown paper. The doctor helps herself to these - always good to take notes, wouldn't you agree? She tests out the El-pencil on a sheet, producing a quick doodle of the mysterious skull she couldn't identify while you look through the rest of the drawers - the next one is filled with various containers of what you assume is ink - most are black or blue-black, but one is very definitely filled with some kind of processed blood, and another, altogether newer-looking one is filled with very definitely unprocessed blood in a highly inexpert fashion and seems to have dried up and scabbed over completely.

Then there's the rather large drawer next to the three smaller ones, taking up two thirds of the desk's underside - it takes a bit of pulling to get it open, and it quickly becomes apparent why as it opens with a clatter - within you see a now somewhat disorderly collection of tools of ascending size - a miniscule silvery gaunt-ivory letter opener catches your eye, and a set of small bone cutters with little curly spirals on their blades, and an absolute multitude of scalpels - beyond that are kitchen knives that have very obviously been brought here from somewhere else, and a sizable hunting knife that you'd feel very comfortable threatening a mugger with, its handle made from a frighteningly large tooth. But the problem object complicating the opening of the drawer looks to have been what you can best describe as a scimitar, a broad black curved blade that seems to have been wedged into the drawer diagonally in a way that's left deep gashes in the otherwise immaculate woodwork of the desk.

The scimitar looks to have been caught in some kind of fire in the not too distant past, and is perhaps not the sharpest thing, but once you manage to pull it out it has the look of a proper sword, nicely balanced and almost a joy to swing through the room in a way, the way it sings making the doctor spring suddenly to attention. Oh, fascinating! Is that never-made? She goes up to take a closer look - why, seems like it could be, perhaps of sand people origin from the shape? Hard to tell with how filthy it is, of course.

"Oh!  Mind the toxic waste pool!  Looks dangerous?"

Warn them.  Maybe kick the thing when it's down.

[A Ranger's Duty: 2 vs. 3]

Aha, the pool! Thank you for the arglblargleargh, the ranger says as the creature on him takes advantage of the distraction to sink its teeth into his throat something fierce. He starts punching it back in the side of the throat, but this seems far less effective. You decide you should do something.

[Saving The Day: 5+1+1 vs. 4]

So you kick the bastard thing right in the ribs before it gets too far in the savaging, the beast giving a surprised yelp as it lets go of the poor ranger with a mouthful of dust and leather and rolls uphill a moment before the incline pushes it back, just in time for you to kick it in its impertinent bat face and break a good few teeth in the process. It stumbles back again, this time far more precariously as it teeters on the edge of the pool, looking very much stunned.

Haha, the ranger yells and points with one hand on where absolutely no blood is coming out of his torn throat, got the thing right and proper in the gullet! Go in for the kill! Use the fork, man!

Oh, dear; that's probably not good. Listen.

You'd think it's not good at all, actually, but the two road workers seem absolutely delighted. The feticheur waves her arms and shakes her stick, and the giant jumps up and down and twirls about. You look to the horizon, and see that it's very visibly and spottily darkened. A few minutes pass as you begin to make out the details, and the buzzing gets louder and lower-pitched, the beating of thousands of wings as a plague of airborne beetles bears down in your direction, resolving into a solid black cloud in a matter of minutes.

The mummy on your back lets go suddenly, and starts crawling along the road at a rapid pace, seemingly eager to escape before the feticheur steps over and places a foot on its helmet, the infirm creature unable to move further as a result.

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« Last Edit: January 05, 2017, 12:16:10 pm by Harry Baldman »
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Toaster

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Re: Our Salvation: Halfway To Sheol
« Reply #1930 on: January 05, 2017, 12:55:57 pm »

"Right!"

Get forked
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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.

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Re: Our Salvation: Halfway To Sheol
« Reply #1931 on: January 07, 2017, 02:03:26 pm »

"Oh, get off him."
Help the mummy up and get moving. We definitely won't make it to cover but may as well make a go of it.
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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.

penguinofhonor

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Re: Our Salvation: Halfway To Sheol
« Reply #1932 on: January 07, 2017, 02:45:21 pm »

"Hey, cool." I was starting to miss my last fancy imported sword.

I look for a coarse rag or something similar and wipe down the blade. If I don't find anything, I clean the sword off as well as I can with my shirt.
« Last Edit: January 07, 2017, 07:44:26 pm by penguinofhonor »
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Xantalos

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Re: Our Salvation: Halfway To Sheol
« Reply #1933 on: January 07, 2017, 05:04:04 pm »

"Hmm, that'd probably be a good idea. I forgot you guys need food and rest. Let's do that."

Carry Alphonse over to one of the farms and procure some food for the poor sod.

((Whoopsie, thought I'd already posted here.))
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Harry Baldman

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Re: Our Salvation: Halfway To Sheol
« Reply #1934 on: January 08, 2017, 05:54:26 pm »

"Right!"

Get forked

The ranger rises to his knees and cheers you on as you dive in for a forking to remember!

[Fork the World: 5+1 vs. 3]

You stab wildly, yet truly into the shoulders of the thing, accessing its precious tendons and joints! The creature shrieks as you pause to take a cue from the ranger and start winding the fork around, catching all manner of fascinating internal components onto it like so much fleshy spaghetti. Right, he says, exactly like that! Now do the same for the other joints!

And so you do, the horrible noises the beast is making rising to a fever pitch as you harvest quite a bit of sinew from its twitching, thrashing body and it eventually is left laying there like a puppet with its strings cut, most of its precious connective tissue well and truly harvested for your purposes. Well done, the ranger says! He'll make a proper woodsman of you yet! He listens for a moment as he pats the creature on the stomach in a few different places - aha, there! He plunges his hand into the creature's flank with distressing ease, pulling out a nearly black fistful of flesh. There's the liver! That'll be his humble share - best not let anything go to waste, right? He'll leave the rest to you and yours!

But now if you'll excuse him, he's got a liver to attend to, he says and runs off on his little legs, leaving you alone with the strange thing. You notice that it's still breathing. And twitching.

"Oh, get off him."
Help the mummy up and get moving. We definitely won't make it to cover but may as well make a go of it.

[The Swarm: 1]

You push the feticheur before she causes any damage to your poor little mummy friend, but she stands resolutely in place, shaking her stick, a certain fervor holding her fast even when you would expect her bones would not. She gurgles and calls to the incoming swarm, which gets lower and more focused, the faster beetles forming a visible vanguard that gives the whole of it a distinct arrowlike shape.

The giant, meanwhile, crawls over the side as well, sidling up next to the mummy. The hole in his face twitches, and he begins to visibly drool over your poor companion, which continues to thrash and bang on its helmet in response. The swarm is getting perilously close, and seems to be accelerating still.

"Hey, cool." I was starting to miss my last fancy imported sword.

I look for a coarse rag or something similar and wipe down the blade. If I don't find anything, I clean the sword off as well as I can with my shirt.

[The Restoration: 5]

It seems to be very old, and burnt in a way beyond the ability of a mere rag to solve - you get to empirically test this in rather short order, and the only thing you get for it is a blackened rag and a sword no more cleaner for it. Yes, they do get like that, the doctor says. Restoring one of these is something of a more involved project, you see. They had a whole department for it back at the college, you know! Needed quite a lot of curious chemicals for it. Whole place smelled rather strongly of reagents. Distilled alcohol would be a good start in several ways, of course. And a minder, of course, to unlock the more exciting properties. They actually had one on site. Summer was her name. Sweet girl, the doctor's dark eyes become wistful. Wonder where she is now?

"Hmm, that'd probably be a good idea. I forgot you guys need food and rest. Let's do that."

Carry Alphonse over to one of the farms and procure some food for the poor sod.

Rest would be excellent though er he did eat this morning so maybe that's not so very important wait actually he could eat again if you're offering and that's not a problem or anything.

[The Outliers: 5]

You carry the sod off to the nearest outlying farm. Looks a bit on the abandoned side, truth be told. Actually a lot on the abandoned side, though not in any particular disrepair. You politely kick the door off its hinges and walk inside, and find the place rather well-appointed, even if it's only a single large room. Hearth off to one side, empty and dark. Bed without any sheets or pillows, several smaller ones around as well. No food in sight whatsoever. You deposit Alphonse on the floor and go to check the storehouse.

After peeling the sturdily barred door of that open with your bare hands, the storehouse looks similarly empty but for a rather large supply of wooden rakes and a single primitive wheelbarrow. But you persevere and after looking around for a good few minutes locate a single potato laying around in a corner, presumably left behind by its inattentive owner. Bit dusty, but probably edible and- oh my, another potato! That's two! And if your eyes do not deceive, there's another beneath the stairs. Unfortunately no others, so you go ahead and return to Alphonse with your bounty. He seems to have passed out in the meantime. You go outside and break off a nearby tree, snapping it into firewood as you go back and quickly build up a fire. The place looks a lot more homely already!

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« Last Edit: January 09, 2017, 06:19:36 am by Harry Baldman »
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