((Alright, lets do it then. Repost your sheets whenever you do stuff, or I'm just gonna assume your stat is zero. ))
Ouroboropolis. The city of the dead. Congealed clot of sin born of ancient fire and carrying the echoes of mankind's former glory. It mocks the world with visions of our former power, twisted into a bulwark against us. It crawls forth from a time now reduced to myth by countless years, a ruin of lost civilizations, filled with nothing but malice for those that still survive. And so it walks the earth, drawn towards any concentration of humanity like a moth towards a flame.
We have fought it. Armies have been brought against it. War machines, explosives, flame and acid. Thousands, hundreds of thousands. Neatly furrowed rows of gleaming armor and sharpened steel. Mankind has throw itself against Ouro like the waves against the coast, and it has broken us every time. It has broken you. The bodies, the metal, the souls of those that fought are dragged into Ouro; nothing is left behind, and you are no exception. Your mortal flesh is gone but your soul is trapped; a strangely solid spirit, the last vestiges of your mind and humanity coalesced into a body. You exist only here, in this hateful wandering hellmouth, you cannot escape it. You have only two choices: let your soul be ground down, cut apart and fed upon by the demons of this place and lose what little remains of yourself, or press forward and cut your way to the heart of this beast. The only way out, is through.
....
You stand now on the very outer edge of Ouro, on its outer shell. You're standing on a pier of sorts, which juts out of the shell. A chunk of asphalt, the remains of a former parking lot, now hanging, suspended just above the slowly advancing soil, jutting out of the patchwork concrete flesh of Oro's outer shell. It sags when trod upon and scrapes the ground, threatening to collapse. The leading edge of the asphalt pier is twisted, bent toward the ground and caked in dried mud and dust, while the trailing edge has big rebar pins driven into it, each of which trails a section of chain. Some of the chains are empty, some hold bodies, or parts of bodies, which are dragged along and slowly ground away into nothing but a thousand mile long smear. Behind you is a vague and shadowy world, as though looking at a desert through a thick fog. It is a world that no longer belongs to you.
Ahead is an arch of sorts, and the shell of Ouro. Ouro's form is difficult to discern, something like a giant pill bug, but too big to be grasped from where you're standing. Instead, all you see is a great wall of debris; a chaotic patchwork of concrete, metal, half destroyed structures, vehicles, trash and burning oil. It stretches up and up, you tilt your head far backwards just to see the top. Among the chaos of the construction, you can make out what look like purposefully constructed structures: walkways, ladders, and buildings all clinging to the shell. This path, through the gate, seems to lead up to the shell and perhaps to these structures.
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Topic: ORO: ANOTHER QUESTION (Read 117218 times)