Korbin: {96}
Deliver divine retribution upon thy mayor. {5}
Sleeper: {82}
Demon extermination: engage. {6}
Defense roll:… {6}
Frederick: {44}
Heal some more people.
{5}Dragnar: {42}
Cut through reality itself. {4}
Defense: {5}
Triad: {36}
Summon the latent powers of the Gods. {6}
Swordsman: B: Run! {6}
Soldiers in barracks:Spearmen (3): Attack! {4}
Injury roll: {3}
Injury: {6}
Swordsmen (3): Attack! {1}
Injury: {2}
Wrestler A: Attack! {4}
Injury: {1}
The GodsAttack: {2}
Turn 12: Usurping the Gods.
A being who seeks to challenge the Gods has arisen!
Lightning flashed across the sky. A roar could be heard in the distance, mingling with the sounds of clashing blades. Fire enveloped the horizon. A battle of Gods had begun.
As the thick cumulonimbus clouds above seemed to gravitate towards the City Hall, Korbin made no effort to remain where he was. With a backflip, he propelled himself off the enraged demon and made his way back into the mansion. Surprisingly, the front door was intact; to add drama and suspense, Korbin heroically kicked it down before continuing his search.
He found himself in an entranceway. Red & Gold carpet had been rolled out on the ground and picture frames studded with precious jewels hung on either side. Paintings of past rulers, their wives and children. At the end of the hallway, there was a stairwell and two doors; the doors opened to the dining room while the stairway lead to the second level. A feminine scream could be heard from above; he could faintly make out the word “Demon!”
Gripping his staff firmly, Korbin proceeded upwards. The stairs were old, creaky. This house wasn’t nearly as well-kept as it should’ve been. Even the walls betrayed a sense of wealth that wasn’t present. The wallpaper was peeling and the wood had long since lost its luster. What stood in front of him was another long hallway, but this time instead of paintings there were doors. On each side, there were countless doors. Most were guest rooms, some were studies. One of them had to be the mayor’s room.
A larger door with a distinctly shiny golden doorknob caught his attention. It opened easily enough, with a few kicks. Korbin had finally found the mayor, but what befell him was a grotesque sight. An old man, at least seventy years, lay on an oversized bed. His wrinkles and skin were a pale white and his hair unkempt. His eyes were closed, and at first he appeared to be sleeping. Then Korbin noticed the blood soaked pillow. Upon closer examination, the mayor was clearly afflicted with something. Pungent yellow boils could be found on his face and one had burst, spewing disgusting pus onto an equally grotesque wall.
Well, Korbin couldn’t argue that the man didn’t deserve it. He and simply let the citizens perish in their time of utmost need. Even so, something about this sight tore at him from the inside. Lowering his spear, much to the shock of the attendants, he pointed it directly at the man’s head. Just as he was about to thrust it forward, the floor shook…
Sleeper had sensed the presence of demons. They weren’t supposed to be here, not in this simulation. It wasn’t natural, not in the slightest. The Code had realized this, but done nothing to stop their appearance. It was his duty to destroy the invader; his righteous task bestowed upon him by The Simulation. It lent him its powers. His short stature shifted, becoming larger — taller. Sleeper’s eyes glazed over with a slight green hue and he could feel more power shifting through himself than ever before.
His eastern jumpsuit dissolved and instead a black trench coat formed, replacing it. In his right hand was a silver long sword and a mysterious green fire seemed to radiate from it. Testing it out, he found it sliced through the air effortlessly, and wherever it cut it left a vacuum. The Universe seemed to bend around this blade. He locked onto Triad’s location and began to sprint towards her.
Frederick, on the other hand, was quite content with continuing his work. The countless citizens he had already saved weren’t enough to satiate his rabid messiah complex, so he continued. Using his rusty tools doubtlessly acquired from all manners of grimy, rotten places, he pushed onward. His campaign of healing had not ended – not yet.
He happened upon a particularly interesting young man. His chest was split open, revealing a slightly fractured rib. Drifting in and out of consciousness, Frederick worked as quickly as he could. Suturing the wound shut and moving the man to a safer place, he could only hope that the frail body would fight off the deadly infection he likely procured by simply breathing the rotten air here. His eyelids twitched slightly, and he began to speak.
“The Mayor… he’s not a bad person.”
These words obviously appalled Frederick, as he finished the rest of the first-aid quickly and set off towards the next victim.
The shaking of the ground, the lightning, the thunder – none of this mattered. What mattered was the distraughtly dangerous situation he found himself in. Men, most armed to the teeth, were all ready to attack at a moment’s notice. Dragnar's sword lay on the ground, at least a foot away. Moving to grab it would undoubtedly place him with his back against the wall – not a good place to be. Without a weapon, however, he was doomed.
Jumping forward, he grasped the sword in his hand and prepared to fight the malevolent guardsmen. Pouring all of his strength into one slice, he sought to pierce reality itself – he wanted to power to govern the universe, to manipulate it and control its laws. No matter how much strength he used, his efforts seemed futile. Perhaps because Dragnar was too perturbed to watch where he was swinging, however, he ended up lopping off several appendages of the attacking spearmen.
A nose, a hand, and a slice across the arm. He had swung in an arc and clearly the force of the blow had stricken the spearmen with pain. Two of them dropped their weapons immediately, falling onto the ground. The third charged, bleeding violently from his face. As blood bubbled from the man’s missing nose, Dragnar almost laughed. He had finally found a compatriot, a fellow noseless man. It was a pity he’d have to end his life so soon.
The blow was easy enough to parry; the attacker was driven by rage, not sense of mind. Pierce after pierce was effortlessly evaded. Rendering the spearmen slightly off balance, Dragnar swept in for the kill. With a strong overhead slash, he sliced through the man’s left arm effortlessly. The limb was cleaved off completely! Holding the dismembered arm in his hand, the spearmen looked on in disbelief. Stumbling backwards, he fell, impaling a wrestler through the eyes. The both of them collapsed in a bleeding heap.
Next to attack were the swordsmen. They were unskilled, to put it nicely. The rabble charged, their blades outstretched. One of them, in a dire attempt to injure Dragnar, swung his blade a bit too far and sliced into the veteran of the group. Dragnar dispatched them effortlessly – it was hardly even fun.
Triad stood in the rain, her skin tainted pure black by demonic energies. Concentrating, she attempted to purge the demons from her soul. There was an almost undefeatable enemy headed her way and she needed more power than simply a few thousand tortured souls. The color in her skin returned and her veins receded. Using her teeth, she cut open her finger and began to sketch out a circle on the cobblestone street, soaked with rainwater.
Strangely, her blood was not affected by the rain. Perhaps it was the determination that burnt within her heart and was present within even the slightest speck of blood; I’m not sure. Regardless of the details, the circle began to take shape and form. It was a circle designed to allow commune with the gods themselves, the mightiest of beings who held utmost control of the universe.
They were perhaps the only ones who could oppose Sleeper. With one last stroke, the circle was finished. The rain ceased immediately, and the skies turned from smoky gray to completely black. It wasn’t a night sky, for there were no stars. It was vast, blank. Eternity stood before her, and she spoke.
“I require aid. A being who seeks to challenge the Gods has arisen! “
There was no response, not at first.
Slowly a deep rumble started. It emanated from the sky, not the ground. It continued to grow louder, and louder more. It reached a deafening roar, and it surpassed even that. It ended with nothing. Complete silence.
The ground gave way, collapsing in. A hand of mud, dirt, and stone reached out, grasping Triad. Through minute vibrations, the hand seemed to speak.
“We will eliminate him.”
Sleeper was rushing towards Triad, oblivious to the destruction that surrounded him. When the ground swallowed her, his surprise was quite warranted. He brought himself to a stop, holding his ground. A sudden gust of wind nearly knocked him off balance, but it was of no consequence. The wind’s speed increased ; its intensity elevating. A small pebble struck his sunglasses sending shards of glass into his eye. With a tap of his hand, they regenerated. Trench coat wispily blowing, Sleeper rose his voice above the growl that had encompassed him.
“Is that all the Gods can muster?”
Status: Disturbed by the words of a dying peasant.
Inventory: Rusty shiv , sewing kit. Masterwork black cloak.
Skills: Accomplished Paramedic (2/5 xp to rank up), Ambusher (0/3xp to rank up), Skilled Surgeon (3/4 xp), Skilled Doctor (1/4 xp to rank up) Philosopher (1/3xp)
Abilities: Godly doctor, but nothing else of note.
Status: Has nearly murdered the Mayor.
Inventory: Exceptional Steel Spear, bloody. Iron chainmail.
Skills: Martial Artist (2/3 xp to rank up), Searcher (1/3 xp to rank up), Accomplished Spearman (3/5 xp to rank up), Thrower (1/3xp)
Abilities: Minor Prepared Concentration Minor Physics-Defying Jumping
Status: Has murdered several guards. Otherwise, pretty okay. Looks like a traveler. Has no nose. Is currently not in a good situation, surrounded by angry guards.
Inventory: Engraved Exceptional Steel Claymore(Dropped) Iron chainmail. Leather pants, shoes. Guard’s helmet.
Skills: Skilled Searcher (2/4 xp to level up], Swordsman (2/3 xp to level up),
Abilities: 100% human.
Status: Impossibly intoxicated. Is wearing a trenchcoat and sunglasses. Is the one.
Inventory: Sleek sunglasses.
Skills: Badass (1/3xp to level up)
Abilities: Minor Intoxicated Agility.Probability-altering right hand.
Status: Has been kidnapped by the Gods.Mostly patched up. Wound may become infected, but symptoms will take time to show. Collapsed lung, but otherwise okay. Has alienated beggars and orphans. Has been overtaken by a murderous rage.
Inventory: Iron chainmail,, Staff.
Skills: Skilled Martial Artist (0/4 xp to next rank)
Abilities: Demonic Possession. Speaker to Deities.
A strangely out-of-place storehouse. Filled with boxes, booze, and exceptional weapons. Blood coats the floor.
A run-down street. Beggars and orphans litter the sides of the road. Frederick is here.
An armoury filled with weapons and armour. Sharp spears litter the floor. Currently inside: Dragnar’s nose.
To the north of the streets. Walls have crumbled. Guards regularly patrol the inside.
Korbin is in the Mayor’s Bedroom, ready to kill the Mayor.
Dragnar is inside the barracks. There are currently 7 soldiers inside with him but few are still breathing.
A tavern filled with booze.
The streets surrounding the Town Hall and other important buildings. There is a lot of rubble between the two places. Sleeper stands here. The Gods are attacking him.
A decrepit old church filled with Frederick’s brilliant medical notes and equipment.
…Expect errors. I haven't actually edited it, so if it's completely unreadable, then I apologize.
Also, there’s going to be some severe reworking of game mechanics sometime soon.
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Topic: Awakening: Turn 13: Blood. (Read 13592 times)