Frederick: {75}
…Practice sneaking?
{5}Korbin: {38}
Perform spontaneous wizardry! {3}
Dragnar: {17}
BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! {1}
Explode?: {3}
Sleeper: {14}
Kill all demons! {3}
Triad: {11}
Aid the gods however possible! {6}
Makaar: Step onto the stage.
Alfie: Raise the (metaphorical) curtains.
Raphael: Awaken. Turn 13: Blood.
The words of mortals rarely stir gods…
Even as the ground shook, as blood-curdling screams sounded, a lone surgeon stood resolute. The euphoria surrounding his recent exploits faded and he wasn’t quite sure what to do. Returning to his roots, he drew his shiv. Not as a tool of healing, but as a weapon of hurt!
With the aid of his recently acquired cloak, he was able to perfect his sneaking. With a few waves of his arm and some dramatic wind, he could easily mask most of his actions. Be it theft or assassination, all manners of subterfuge would henceforth be easier.
Meanwhile, Korbin was working furiously. The putrid stench of burst boils and stagnant pus was quite off-putting, however. Using his spear, he began to sketch out a circular pattern in the soft-wood floor surrounding the mayor’s bed. As this was happening, the countless servants watched in horror. They weren’t trained in combat, and the man before them was armed. Even the mayor himself opened a single swollen eye, looking suspiciously at the purple-haired man who had burst into his room.
This was all interrupted, of course, by the sound of screaming. The sound of organs falling to the ground, liquefying – all manners of ridiculous things. Something bad was clearly happening, though exactly what, Korbin couldn’t say. His contemplations were interrupted by an enraged scream.
“BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!”
Dragnar yelled these words as loudly as he could. The piles of bodies in the barracks didn’t react. Even the men who were struggling to stay alive seemed to ignore him. At first, all was silent. Then, it happened…
The wrestler was the first to go. *Pop*. He had simply exploded, spewing entrails in every direction. The rest of the soldierse followed suit, and their blood ran thick. It was quite a marvel; the crimson liquid had reached up to Dragnar’s knees by the time it settled. As the wooden beds and the white sheets were stained quite badly, he considered his options. He noted that his throat was a little sore, but nothing else of no—
Auugh!Dragnar resists the urge to spontaneously explode! Some strange energy seemed to rush through him and his left side began to swell dramatically! He could feel the blood inside his body being pushed outward, pressing against his skin. Only by strength of will was he able to hold himself together. Seems like he’ll have a little trouble carrying anything in his left hand, though. Some of his fingers had swollen to twice their original size.
Glass fragments in the eye: not a problem. When the wound begins to spew blood, however…
Sleeper was surprised by what he saw – rightly so. The dead bodies around him were… dissolving? Or rather, falling apart. Many of the people who Frederick saved seemed to explode for no apparent reason. More perplexing, still, was what happened afterward. Their blood was flying around, sweeping through the streets. It was all being collected into a huge ball several hundred meters above the city.
With every minute, the Blood God grew stronger. His power was absolute; even the void that had become the sky shifted to a crimson colour to reflect the inevitable madness that would ensue. In an instant, the sphere of blood fell apart. It drenched the city and its citizens; it stained the land. In front of Sleeper, a humanoid shape began to form. It wasn’t huge — it stood at a mere 6 feet. It wouldn’t have even been menacing, save for the fact that it was completely comprised of blood.
Was Sleeper intimidated? Not at all. At last, he had an enemy to face, and a strong one, too. With a flourish, his blade cut effortlessly through the air.
“You shouldn’t exist here. Not yet.”
The God of Blood looked on in shock.
“Mayhem, chaos! These simple ideas are the basis of the universe, and where they exist, I, Armok, shall follow!”
Tentacles rushed forth; not even tentacles, but soupy messes of appendages. They enveloped Sleeper, dragging him under, into the street of blood. When he should’ve hit the ground, he kept going, further under. Fires raged but the blood held strong! Armok’s grip never falters.
A woman’s shriek echoed throughout a seemingly empty hall. She had been brought here by a mysterious hand of stone but precisely how and why eluded her. Triad had sought only to eliminate Sleeper. His abilities weren’t physically possible and furthermore, they went against the natural laws! She took on the task of exterminator herself, pledging to purge the unwanted being.
“Let me fight him! I will destroy that wretched soul; I will hold his life in my hands, I will laugh! I will tear it from his very body and torture it for all eternity!”
Of course, the gods heard this. Triad certainly had… motivation. Their reasoning was simple: to arrange a battle. Sleeper sought to become a god, and Triad fought to stop him… and so it began.
Within moments, a gaping hole opened, swallowing Triad completely. She fell for what seemed like ages before she finally lost consciousness. When she awoke, she found herself standing in a puddle of
blood! Looking around, she could see vast walls surrounding her, outstretched. She was in the centre of an arena — a coliseum. Sleeper stood opposite her, equally confused. Intestines, kidneys; organs of all sorts seemed to drift around. A voice boomed.
“Thou both challenge the Gods! There can be only one victor! Whoever shall win, ascension awaits!”
Inside the cement bunker.
- “Augh, damn! Did someone stab me or somethin’?!”
Alfie, Makaar, Raphael. All were chosen for some reason or another, and there they lay. The man in the trenchcoat let out a slight groan of pain while the others remained still. Both Makaar and Raphael struggled to regain their senses – they had been deprived of them for so long… so very long.
Status: Disturbed by the words of a dying peasant. The countless people he saved seem to have spontaneously exploded.
Inventory: Rusty shiv , sewing kit. Masterwork black cloak.
Skills: Accomplished Paramedic (2/5 xp to rank up), Skilled Ambusher (0/4xp 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. Is sketching strange symbols into the ground.
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. Drenched with BLOOD!
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. Appears to be in a coliseum, tasked with the elimination of Triad.
Inventory: Sleek sunglasses.
Skills: Badass (1/3xp to level up)
Abilities: Minor Intoxicated Agility.Probability-altering right hand.
Status: Seems to be inside a coliseum of sorts. 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.
Status: Groaning in pain.
Inventory: Suspiciously empty.
Skills: Undefined.
Status: Sightseeing.
Inventory: Strangely, neither an eyepatch nor an anchor tattoo.
Skills: Perhaps a sailor? This man is still a mystery, even to himself.
Status: Considering the surroundings.
Inventory: Void of matter.
Skills: Looking angry, if that counts as a skill (Hint: it doesn’t.)
A large, underground, cemented cube. There are metal panels on each wall and several metal columns reaching from the ground to the ceiling. There appears to be no way in or out.
All of our new arrivals are here.
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, drenched with blood. Frederick is here, also drenched with blood. Armok seems to have taken his leave…
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, drawing shapes in the ground.
Dragnar is inside the barracks. There are currently copious amounts of blood entertaining his presence.
A tavern filled with booze and blood.
The streets surrounding the Town Hall and other important buildings. There is a lot of rubble between the two places. There’s also a lot of blood.
A decrepit old church filled with Frederick’s brilliant medical notes and equipment. Bloody corpses too, but that’s a given.
Triad and Sleeper stand here, amidst an ocean of blood. The Gods seem to be cheering them on from the sidelines.
Whoever wins the fight will be given divinity, it seems...
Now, it's important to note that I had intended a fairly realistic setting, almost. Maybe an alternate reality to Earth or something. You'd be given missions and moral choices, plunged into scenarios, etc. Then The Computer would analyze what you did, ask, "Why?" and ultimately consider why he continued to keep you entrapped.
Your goal was, of course, to escape. Presumably by convincing The Computer that keeping you was morally wrong, or boring, or something. Sadly you, the players, have wrenched the plot from my hand. You've taken it upon yourself to create a world filled with ridiculous things as I, the writer, struggle to produce plausible reasons for what is happening.
So I've settled upon a final solution of sorts which will hopefully satisfy you. (Not that you read RTDs for the plot or anything, though..);
Instead of this being a story filled to the brim with tough moral choices, it's going to inevitably devolve into badassery. Not that that's a bad thing.
I'm throwing physics out of the window here along with practical science. The laws will shift according to the whims of the dice.
Anything goes.
Author
Topic: Awakening: Turn 13: Blood. (Read 13587 times)