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[VoidSlayer]

B

[Blood_Librarian]

6

Turns out, the entire path there was quite simple, albeit a little tense. Not a single time, did you hear any of the jackbooted thugs that you were waiting to storm down any hidden alley or maintenance corridor that you were sneaking in, Indeed, the path was eerily resonant in the astral realm, whether that is a good or bad omen is not clear.

After about two hours of sneaking through the Arcologies bowels, you emerge from the deep depths, nearer to where you want to be. After about ten minutes of plain old walking, you manage to come on over to the tree spirits domain.

assessing into its realm, it seems a little agitated, frayed, perhaps on edge, but a far cry from its speared rage that it gave off in its little conversation with you.

"Is it done? Do you wish for your will to be done?"

A. "Yes, the deed is done, and I would like to project now."
B. "Yes, the deed is done, but first we must bargain for some questions."
C. "Yes, the deed is done, but first I must rest."

[Rockeater]

C we probably do need resting. We can do the rest later.

[mightymushroom]

C

[omada]

Does the hurtness of our body inflict too much on the hurtness of our astral body?

A if not, leave the carcass sleeping at the tree with a bit of medicine or whatever and project

if yes, C, let's be 100% first

[Blood_Librarian]

5

Indeed, the last time you slept has felt like years ago. For a moment, the spirit rattles the tree, before trilling and receding into the astral realm.  It's clear that it won't offer you any amenities, but none the less, you follow the spirits action and climb up the tree, and somehow manage to fall asleep. This is a little surprising, considering the terrors that usually prelude to your awakening, but it seems that the creatures of the night stay at bay in this sanctum.

You dreamt of a created mind, thinking on paths of circuitry and positronic membranes. It feels strange, disturbing and all too unfamiliar. When you awake, the spirit had long been tending to its garden, moving the massive boulders and pieces of debris into a state fitting its enigmatic mind. Somehow, it feels a little more claustrophobic.

It ignored your protests in the rude hours of the morning, and began shoving you into a small pit in the middle of the sandy, almost claylike surface of the floor.

Unlike the Prophet who had simply cut your soul out into the astral, the Spirit pulled yours through with a gateway straight to the deeper parts of the Astral Realm.

Like a cold bucket of water, you were immediately immersed into the Astral, and despite all the metal in your veins, the raw immense power of a dead god's mojo in your soul, you were surprised. Rushing through the ebbs and flows of the metaplane, pushed down forcefully into unknown pathways at the speed of thought, the feeling of blood rushing to your head came to your soul, and you felt dizzy at the speed until, at the snap of the spirits whim, you stopped. If it were the physical realm, all your laced bones would've broken to powder and all the synthetic sinews would snap, the speed at which you ceased moving would've broken anyone in the "real" world.

This place was brutalized, almost desicated in the onslaught. The background mana of this place has been utterly decayed, cut to ribbons by two impossibly powerful world-bending spirits that had made this area of the Realm a battleground. Bolts of Mana, long and impossibly thin, or thick, bulky and cubed block many paths, and they are shaped in what may possibly be a graveyard of bones shape the otherwise formless realm, making a floor of decay, and paths forward.

This is not a pleasant place to be, even now, you can smell the watchers, the crawlers, and all the other spirits of the dead, dying and bloodied moving through this place, in the grief of the terrible, terrible war that had been done here. The rot has not begun to cover the corpses, either, foreign thoughts slam into your head as you peer deeper, echoes of incoherent hunger, or the determined and impossibly bent mind focussing on an extermination.

A. The path of the long, thin bones calls to you. !!
B. You must Watch, see the inhabitants walk, before you may walk. !
C. Weep to the sight corpse of your dead Pact-God.
D. The Path of the bulky blocks of spirit-flesh must be walked.
E. Attone for the sins you had committed against all life.

[Maximum Spin]

C

[omada]

A sounds so beautiful to read

[crazyabe]

A.

[VoidSlayer]

I think the long bones are the bloodletter, not our pact maker.

C

[Rockeater]

C

[mightymushroom]

B

[Blood_Librarian]

aa
b
ccc

6

It was the perfect spot to watch. Under your will, the bolts, the blocks and all the solidified Mana shuddered and phased into a clear liquid-solid as you peered through their wounding tunnels.You saw the realms bleeding wound, every nook, every desiccated vein, every rented wound of your Pact-God. The "physical" look of a spirit will correspond to their thoughts, give hints to how it's enigmatic mind ticks, and it following these features, so exposed by the lacerations present on every part of it's astral self, the vague notions of a story comes to mind.

It's twisted lance was never used in spite, rage, or malice against the Slaughter Demon-Prime, nor did it use the weapon for it's own avaraistic protection of Ego.

It murdered the hungry thing because it's mind was bent around your will utterly, to the point where it impaled it self and slain the demon all in dedication to you.

The byzantine cogs of the spirit was utterly bent. Not Broken, but bent towards something so bizarrely similar to love that there are no other words to describe it. This didn't happen slowly by any means, as you had peered into the think-pan of the twisted and bent spirit before, and this almost singular dedication to you never even had a hint of existing.

An aching sort of emptiness churned as you peer through it's corpse, and suddenly, a sort of revulsion causes you to shake, and the corpse seems a tad more depressing then anything else. For a moment, you feel a almost innate desire to wander like the rest of the deathly things here, but resist such urges.

A. Walk through the pact-gods sharped and broken pieces of "bone", and ponder upon it's mind
B. Shed some blood, it is only respectful in such a massive field of it, and spread it across the entire battle field.
C. Wander through the outer-borders of this realm, and view the battle-realm from different angles.
D. Peer into the fiends bones, and walk it's footsteps.
E. There is nothing left here, and whats does exist should be undisturbed.

[mightymushroom]

B

[Maximum Spin]

A