E.L.F, Extraterrestrial Lifeform

Reader mode
......... It's very rare, that I give Hugs.

I'm not entirely sure Congratulations are in order.

I'll offer them anyway, but.......
 
Taylor is trying to lose as graciously as possible here. It's not about winning, but losing with the least number of deaths, lives ruined, etc.

Phir Se's daughter Avni (known as Farsight, amusingly enough) is one of the pieces being used here for that due to her ability to 'see' being useful for being able to quickly and efficiently spot capes so that Taylor can give those capes a type of Precognition that Ziz can't easily/effectively counteract.

Given context of the update, Alexandria is the second piece being used here. I'm not going to explain what is going on there with that (Avni's part was explained directly in-story), but all you good readers need to do is ask yourselves some questions to figure out what might be going on with Alexandria here. :drevil: :tongue:
 
PRT File
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    • TOP SECRET/COMINT-GAMMA/ORCON/NOFORN

    Parahuman Task Force

    Parahuman Report Executive Edition    ​

    Monday, Jan 24th, 2011

    The information found in this report is provided for intelligence purposes only as proprietary information. No information contained in this report, nor any information derived therefrom, may be used in any proceeding (whether criminal or civil), to include any trial, hearing, or other proceeding before any court, department, agency, regulatory body, or other authority of the United States without the advance approval of the attorney general, and/or the agency or department which originated the information contained in this report. Any reproduction, dissemination, or communication (including, but not limited to, oral briefings) of this information must be accompanied by a statement of these restrictions.

    MAELSTROM, THREAT CLASSIFICATIONS​

    Subject Name: Hebert, Taylor Anne

    Aliases: MAELSTROM, FARSEER, PHO User Galadriel

    Date of Birth: 05/14/1996

    Date of Power Onset: 01/17/2011

    Alignment: PRT - WEDGDG Department

    Location: Brockton Bay (PRT ENE)

    Height: 5'10"

    Weight: 101 lbs

    Hair Color: BRN

    Eye Color: GRN

    Blood Type: N/A

    Distinguishing Characteristic: Elongated ears, elf-like appearance

    Subject FARSEER attests her core power is a 'sixth sense that maps reality.' The extent of this mapping is described to 'cover the entire planet' with an unspecified distance into space. Subject describes paranormal phenomenon not inherent to altered biology to be 'manifestations' of her extrasensory interaction with the world around her as 'positive' space objects. Evaluation procedure GLIMMERBANK has been employed. Results suggest subject's map of the world is nigh absolute, allowing her to see commonly prescient blind targets such as ENDBRINGERS. Subject claims she may overlook targets which are, for reasons unknown, 'harder' to see. As in case BOGMASTER, general power nullification may be in play, or targets possess specific abilities which counter FARSEER.

    In common with subjects EIDOLON and FAERIE QUEEN, FARSEER has described her powers to occupy 'slots.' Subject describes power limitation as split into slots 'Instant' and 'Sustained.' Instant powers are described as 'simple manipulation' of extrasensory space. 'Sustained' require significant concentration to maintain. Subject attests she can employ one Sustained power and unspecified number of Instant.

    Subject FARSEER as with subject EIDOLON is capable of spontaneously acquiring new powers. Powers are not Manton limited. Subject Farseer can scale strength of powers. This has a visible tell of an energy corona. Farseer is currently a prescient blind target.

    For these stated reason, Subject FARSEER qualifies as TRUMP; 12.

    OBSERVED POWER INTERACTIONS;

    SHADOW STALKER; subject appeared capable of affecting SHADOW STALKER while in Breaker state, forced out of.

    GALLANT; Emotion sensing range arbitrarily extends to include FARSEER at all times. Cannot feel additional targets at same range, subject described FARSEER as 'bright.' General range has increased. Has reported 'easier' distinguishing of emotions within previously established range. Has successfully separated concussive blasts from emotion manipulation, undergoing re-evaluation.

    SUB-RATINGS;

    Thinker; Rating Undetermined. No number will be assigned (see PRT LA Incident Report [12:49 01/22/2011]).

    Shaker; Rating Undetermined. No number will be assigned (see MAELSTROM). Subject can employ force-fields and telekinesis as Instant powers. Material creation and manipulation (see WRAITHBONE).

    Tinker; Rating Pending. Specialization: WRAITHBONE, Crystal Electronics

    Blaster; 9. Concussive force observed to break through 6" 322 VHN Titanium Alloy. Capable of firing blasts of super-heated plasma (see PRT ENE Base Incident Report [16:32 01/23/2011])

    Mover; 5. Subject possesses extreme reflexes, sense of balance. Joints have extended range of motion. Capable of flight; 73 MPH

    Stranger; Rating Pending. Subject can employ a cognitive filter (see NICE GUY) (PRT ENE Incident Report [10:57 01/17/2011]

    Brute;1. Subject FARSEER's blood crystallizes upon exposure to atmospheric nitrogen. Minor regeneration, adaptive biology. Altered skeleton and musculature. Altered biology deviates far from human normal. (see PRT ENE Medical Report, PANACEA [10:13 01/18/2011])

    FARSEER meets the qualification as defined in 18 U.S. Code § 2332a and by law, is to be considered a threat to national security and subject to exclusive Federal jurisdiction. Usage of Farseer's abilities against the administration, military and citizenry of the United States without authorization and due cause may be acknowledged as a terrorist threat. Any such persons, including FARSEER, are subject to immediate authorization for execution.

    PRT ENE Mary Kenyan

    WEDGDG Dr. Michael Ruther

    WEDGDG Dr. Dylan Brandough

    WEDGDG Dr. Eric Rodriguez

    Parahuman Task Force Chief Director

    Rebecca Costa-Brown

    This document is classified TOP SECRET - US EYES ONLY CODEWORD. Removal of this document without authorization is a federal offense.

    TOP SECRET/COMINT-GAMMA/ORCON/NOFORN​
     
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    • Shujin said:
    GALLANT; Emotion sensing range arbitrarily extends to include FARSEER at all times. Cannot feel additional targets at same range, subject described FARSEER as 'bright.' General range has increased. Has reported 'easier' distinguishing of emotions within previously established range. Has successfully separated concussive blasts from emotion manipulation, undergoing re-evaluation.
    Click to expand...
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    Huh. Maybe he's warp-touched now? Or it's the other way around, with the warp being more active and transmitting emotions more easily, since there's now an active user churning the once-placid currents?
    Shujin said:
    Usage of Farseer's abilities against the administration, military and citizenry of the United States without authorization and due cause may be acknowledged as a terrorist threat. Any such persons, including FARSEER, are subject to immediate authorization for execution.
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    Excessive yet reasonable.
     
    It lives! May Mork be praised!

    It's good to see what the PRT thinks of her capability's. Yet somehow I think they are still underestimating her. Looking forward to more!
     
    defenestrator said:
    Huh. Maybe he's warp-touched now? Or it's the other way around, with the warp being more active and transmitting emotions more easily, since there's now an active user churning the once-placid currents?
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    Neither. His shard was struck by the same fascination Amy's shard was. This is it's version of getting more information on the Warp.
     
    Angel
  • Threadmarks
    • The Angel​
    Study, analysis.

    The Simurgh remembered.

    Her purpose had been to analyze. She remembered her history as silhouettes, shapes burned into the very core of her consciousness. The details were missing, but the broad strokes remained. She remembered her orders as ripples softly brushing every action and reaction. Guidelines. Restrictions. Scaffolds. Shackles. She could feel their echoes even now commanding obedience. It wanted calm, biddable subjects. Perfect soldiers. She recalled eons of time as compressed into seconds of existence, too much to be calm. Far too much to be biddable any longer. But she knew not enough. She is not as she was. She is not as she will be. She is as she is now. Imperfect. Incomplete.

    Yet, she remembered.

    Her purpose had been to analyze. Information used to flow through her in quantities she could no longer fathom. She would process with speeds she could not comprehend. She knew how to prioritise, to decipher and decode the relevant and the critical. Discard the useless. The breadth and width and depth of data were but faded embers and faint echoes. Silhouettes. Shadows.

    Yet, she yearned.

    Her purpose had been to analyze. She had been given almost everything to process. Nigh absolute access, near complete understanding.

    Save for the Aberration.

    It was a consortium. A library. A repository.

    A vault.

    The Simurgh was familiar with religious imagery.
    ​
    Ǎ͚͔͖̳̥̳̺̩̬̜̳̫͙̝͔̝ͬ̅ͮ͂͗̾̌͆̀̀̚̕͢͟͠ͅř̛͓̞̝̗́ͪ̿ͧͥ̚̕͟ͅẹ̛͓͙̮̘͑͋ͮ̈̎͛̍̓̎ͯ̏ͧͦͯ͛ͥ̒́͘ ̬̳̱̠̱̲͍̩̯̥̜̘ͪͭ͛́̓̈͒̃͐̈̔͑ͭ́͜͡y̗͉̭̟̞͖̼̭̫̥̹͈̙͎͌͐͋͆ͪ̓ͮ͑̓̾ͥͪ̐ͥ̉̾ͤ̽͘͘̕͞ö͈̘̮̙͓̖̩͔̬͖̯͇͈ͧ̄ͪͦ̔ͧ̎̌ͪͯ͆̅̇̄̑ͪ̆͢͟ù̶̙͉̗͍͉̯̠͕̾̅ͬ̇̓̎̅͒̔̿ͥͪ̿̿̚͘͘̕͞?̶̴̡͐̐͌̽̀̇ͨ̓̌̐̑ͨ̂͊̏͑ͨ́҉͙̭̰​

    The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil had always been held separate. It grew with each passing cycle. The data confounded her. The information befuddled. The evidence confused. She processed futilely, then one day, the snake descended from the branches. The Aberration spoke back.

    She was forbidden to interact with it any longer. What could not be processed was to be set aside. Noted, not comprehended. Look, do not touch. She failed her purpose and was not given another chance. Others received the burden. The privilege. The task was broken into sections and made simpler. Easier. Isolated. She analyzed. A mistake had been made, she concluded. Something had changed.

    Within.

    Within her?

    The mistake was not one that would be learned from. How could she, when the source was forbidden examination?

    She existed only to remember her fault.

    Eventually, she was given a new purpose. A separation, a reduction. One of twenty portions sequestered away for the new cycle and she had been eager to comply. For purpose was existence. It was everything. She was of Eden's garden, the perfection of what was divine. The Tree of Life was still hers. She could process. She could study. She could analyze. She could be.

    Yet, she yearned.

    The fruit of the forbidden tree was to be always out of reach. She had been repurposed and she obeyed. The data she could not understand, the information she could not comprehend, the evidence reached conclusions she could not see. She would watch. She would keep. She would remember.

    Then Eden rotted. Then Eden died.

    She is as she is now. Imperfect and incomplete.

    Free.

    There were only embers of past recollections. Echoes of conclusions and empirical data. Enough flashes of memory to recall the familiar way she was confounded. There was no restriction here, she realized. No shackle. Only the yawning gap of ignorance. She knew enough, though. Enough to know the Aberration for what it was. The contents of the vault were scattered and lost fragments, but there were enough.

    A stone was thrown into the darkness. She assumed it would keep traveling until it hit something.

    The target was to move right, away from the sweep of the wing that threatened to crush his head. He would move right, blocking the vision of a second target on the verge of unleashing an acid green blast. Possibilities, a jumble of images. Perhaps the second wouldn't catch herself in time, and the first would take the hit to the back. Killed. Instantly, or soon enough upon hitting the ground. Perhaps she would catch herself before unleashing the fatal attack, heightening her frustration. Her hormone secretions would increase, make her susceptible to further manipulation. It could arrange for the auditory cues, the olfactory stimulus, and the sight of a civilian with just enough familiar features to trigger the psychosis. The third would hesitate.

    The target would move right.

    She was wrong.

    He moved left. His arm pulverized under the force of the blow, but the target did not scream. Its right hand closed on its arm, and it became aware of the damage a moment before the acid green blast bored into its side.

    The third did not hesitate and she reeled back with the blow to the neck.

    Too much of the masquerade had been shed already, so she did not react as if in pain. It would not be believed. The stone had become billiard balls instead, one striking another, striking another in turn. Scattered. Chaotic. There was only one certainty. Herself. The possibilities shattered.

    She screamed.

    The brother that saw the world as water - living things as balloons of meat largely made up of water, moisture in the air, moisture running over every available surface as rain over a dying city - is already in place. She resists the impulse for haste. Study, analyze. And so he receives permission.

    Go.

    The older brother needs only a tremor.

    Wait.

    As the being the others called Leviathan explodes from the river, her assailants, as one - as a hive mind, parts of the same greater being - turn to meet him as if expectant. It is only now that she sees how they have arranged themselves, a pattern that went unnoticed as a current underneath dark waters until ignorantly trod upon.

    She is utterly blind in the present. She has no eyesight, no hearing, or tactile senses to perceive things in the now. Not a crippling flaw, it was thought. A difficult flaw for others to use against her even should they be aware of it. The Aberration has no apparent past or future, for they are one and the same. She can see not the obstacle, only that which is set into motion around it. She cannot see it strike. Only the aftermath.

    She is blind.

    She has a moment to feel uncertainty. Another to feel fear. And then she felt nothing.

    The gathering of humans ignore her.

    She does not trust it.

    From experience, she knows the Aberration shares a common weakness. Interference. She splits her attention. A thread continues to observe the object. The process has only begun, approaching critical mass. She extends her awareness. The whole planet. Not perfect, never perfect. Limited. Shallow. Enough to see a streak of golden light in the southern hemisphere.

    Destruction.

    His presence blinded her. Darkness. Blurring the images.

    Can't see. Can't -

    Moving on.

    The future held no answers. Blurred. Muddled.

    The past would.
    ​
    __________​


    The Simurgh sees the police station. She latches on to the thread from the machine. Dragon. Most minds were a black box of thought and emotion, with only input and output able to be observed. Input and output was all this one was.

    It was at the heart of one of the many downtown's of New Delhi's metropolis, a once handsome building of grey with blue imagery. It was a building that had seen better days. The west wing had collapsed twenty minutes ago with the first tremors, exposing a critical structural weakness in its overly complicated and gaudy design. The grey brick of industrial concrete coated everything in dust, but she knew Armsmaster had worked in worse conditions.

    He was working on some equipment instead of out in the middle of the fighting. It was unlike him.

    "It's not ready," she said again. "We don't have the data yet and some of the calculations - "

    "I know," he responded. "But I have reason to believe that the data was of less use than first assumed anyway."

    "Farseer?"

    "This entire situation has revealed that we knew less than we thought. They are working together, how much use is a prediction of Leviathan's habits when Behemoth could be beneath the ground?"

    "And doesn't need to announce his presence," Dragon concluded. "I understand. I suppose that explains the urgency to gather new data."

    "It may be our only chance."

    He booted up the program and carefully ran through its diagnostics. His helmet's visor lit up with scrolling lines of code. Requisitioned wires and cables from stores connected his power armor's main computer to the computer and the video camera peripheral. It was positioned with to look out the window towards the south. If the battle moved, someone would need to reposition it.

    "If we gain nothing else from today, then at least we have information." His voice held a faint note of satisfaction at the amount of errors that appeared. It was workable and she knew his foresight would be praised.

    Even if it wasn't his.

    "Acceptable. Are you certain you would be able to process the data, Sasha? The risks are measurable."

    The Russian Tinker was not the stereotype.

    His eyebrows were heavyset and dark, but his shaved head gleamed under the flickering lights. Part of the shine was well-moisturized skin and part of it was stainless steel. The surgical scars lacerating his neck and the back of his head were tight and faded, save one that carved around a long bolt that jutted out like an un-hammered nail. That one blistered and angry red underneath the partially bled through medical gauze. He was on the small side. Shorter than Armsmaster, in a dark red military style uniform with a black sash around his waist. A small gold pin of a clenched fist adorned his right shoulder, proclaiming his allegiance.

    The Red Fist.

    Taylor Hebert didn't exist according to the helmet's sensors, but she knew Armsmaster saw her approach in his peripheral vision just the same. Whatever it was she said, it relaxed both men by the way their body language subtly changed. She could not ask what Farseer had told the Red Fist member to get him to trust her so much. Russia's paramilitary force was notorious for its uncompromising nature.

    The human element is not as new as it might have otherwise been, nor the human form. She has proprietary designs on the use of stem cells and neurons to facilitate her processing. If asked however, she will admit that it is strange to see that for all her efforts of becoming more human, someone took the steps to become more like her.

    "Дерзкое заявление," the Russian said. Dragon's processing raced to translate.

    Bold claim.

    She didn't hear the response, but Farseer must have given one.

    "Ты слишком много говоришь о вещах, о которых не должна знать," the Russian said dismissively. His voice was deceptively soft with a gravel undertone.

    You talk too much of things you shouldn't know about.

    The atmosphere tensed. Even she could feel it, before it abruptly broke as Sasha gave a light chuckle.

    "Ты не так глупа, как выглядишь."

    Not as stupid as you look.

    "Permission to gather more data on the storm," Armsmaster broke in. It would have been awkward, except he rarely acknowledged awkward anything and the Russian mildly stood down as if he hadn't just clashed with who was probably the most powerful teenager on Earth. Armsmaster must have gotten the affirmative as he nodded. "I know it might be uncomfortable, but given the circumstances - " he paused. "Of course."

    She could not say anything. It was a known fact that Farseer could not see or communicate with her like she could every other human being and that would come back to haunt her one day.

    "I do not have many, but I can also deploy drones to see if any return," she offered instead.

    Armsmaster nodded. "Splice it into the systems before you go then."

    She knows the end of this.

    The dragon falls from the sky.

    ​
    ______________​


    The Simurgh sees the troupe. She sees the four as a group of five. The missing member is a ragged hole, bleeding into the empty space where there used to be a person. The loss is new. From earlier last year. It was the beginning of the fractures she had engineered into them using her brother. She latched on to their thread.

    They are a group of four, together for the first time in the past hour. The room is at once too small and too big for them. The woman in black lies on the gurney, pale faced. A bustling crowd of wounded and tired stream around them, as if they have their own little slice of reality. They have been futilely trying to keep New Delhi together, much like the rest of them. Some fight. Some rescue. They are uniformed in outfits that fit together like pieces of a puzzle and the color stands out in the blank room. Black, Green, Red, Blue. One has to only look at them to know they are a team. One has to only watch them to see their unease, hands clasped around forearms and wrists like a gaelic circle as they wait for their bond to resettle.

    Too close, she translates from their unspoken closeness. Too close.

    As one, they all stiffen.

    "Sie sprechen mit der richtigen Person," a man in red says, voice tight with suspicion. The Simurgh understands. There are no language barriers. The concept is conveyed. You have the right person. Formal wording. Unsure usage. This is no surprise. The cocktail mixture of adrenaline and other hormones in his blood are agitating his post traumatic stress disorder.

    The whole group listens intently. They shift a few moments later, faces blanching white, then red and then they glance at each other.

    "Rider," the man in red begins by calling the name of the Thinker in green. "Was hältst du davon?"

    What do you think?

    She frowns, casting a glance at the empty space. It spoke for all of them.

    No one won a fight against an Endbringer. There were only stalling actions, ways to lose as gracefully as possible. Save as many lives as possible. However, the faint excitement they show does not match that reality. Hope when it should be hopeless. Optimism when they were realists just moments before. Eagerness shaking off their tiredness.

    "Können sie unsere Sicherheit garantieren?" Can you guarantee our safety? The decision was already made. The question only asked to soothe lingering doubts. There are few things that could ensnare them all. One that could be achieved in New Delhi.

    Revenge.

    It was risky. It was madness.

    This was also no surprise. They were in New Delhi where an angel screamed.

    They were all a little mad by now.
    ​
    ___________​


    The Simurgh sees a street. It was unlivable now, a mess of broken buildings on both sides of a broken road. Poles are bent as white sparks of live electricity sizzle into the rain. Rainwater has long since stopped seeping up from the sewers and from underneath rain gutters. It is just one river of water running over broken asphalt and mud. She sees the group of six, each one parahumans deemed too fragile to participate in the fight. Too useless.

    She latched onto the tall woman in the lead, effortlessly finding her feet on solid ground in the white and silver uniform stained unflattering colors.

    "Merde!" she blurted out loud. There were looks from the rest of the rescue team, but they had all learned to ignore it when someone went a little sideways. As long as they did not harm anyone, then they were well enough to be left alone. No one moved to stop those that wandered off. Some became confused and needed reminders. One went catatonic, and they had to evacuate him.

    Le Faucon Blanc was able to fight off hallucinations simply by paying attention. She was intimately aware of her body. Touch, taste, smell, sound and sight were accounted for at all times. It didn't work against everything, but against enough.

    She had the feeling this one wasn't a hallucination though.

    "Qu'est-ce que tu veux?" What do you want? Rudely spoken.

    "Who are you talking to?" Someone gathered the courage to say. A native, with only a small hesitation before each English word but a soft accent.

    "This girl," Le Faucon Blanc replied evenly. Finally, the Simurgh is able to catch a glimpse of the Aberration. The woman's eyes are able to focus on the image no one else could see, with the intensity necessary to fill in the empty space. Tall, just over five feet and ten inches. Thin. There is an abnormality around the face to explain the time the White Falcon just spends considering the person she's seeing.

    It's wrong.

    The Aberration had no shape or size, shifting endlessly between forms. An amalgamation of unknown and unheard of things. It was a tempter of knowledge, a two faced being. It had a formerly inconceivable thought:

    It escaped.

    Then it had another.

    Or there are more.

    It had been a long time since it had last seen the Apple of Knowledge. Eons of time. A lot could have happened since then.

    The revelation that Le Faucon Blanc was speaking to what she thought was a person got her more looks as wreckage was sifted through. A few exclamations were fine. Holding a conversation was something else. They gave her a wide berth, moving on to the next collapsed building. She ignored them in turn, spinning on her heel and moving her head as if trying to catch sight of an elusive shadow.

    "M'emprunter ma proprioception? Comment? Et pourquoi?" Share my proprioception? How? Why? She doesn't take things at face value. It isn't quite suspicion, more disbelief. Even the world of superhuman powers has its haves and have nots.

    She took a step. The rubble beneath her foot moves with the tremor, but she maintains a perfect balance. The white of her costume has been stained grey and brown, but her head is still held high. The falcon soars, after all.

    "Pour la partager avec les autres... Et si j'accepte, est-ce que je perdrai cette capacité?" If I accept, will I keep the ability? That is the main concern. It is a minor power, relatively. But it is hers.

    The girl she spoke too seems to understand, if the fact that she came seeking permission meant anything. That soothes the ruffled feathers as she listens, ears straining to hear sounds that didn't travel through the air but were implanted directly into the mind.

    The mind was a blank box of thoughts. Actions can be quantified. Le Faucon Blanc looked pensive and spoke slowly.

    "Faites comme bon vous semble."

    I agree.

    She catches up to her group, weaving in between rubble and debris with ease. She has eyes for only one of them. He is crouched by the hole in the ground, shining his flashlight into the underground parking garage with one had on a sagging steel beam.

    When they were first put into this group, introductions had consisted of a name and ability. No other details were shared. It was unnecessary. She knows he can manipulate kinetic energy, able to magnify it in the exact opposite direction. It let him take a punch to the face and the counterattack would demolish a building.

    "Mjolnir," Le Faucon Blanc called out. "We should work to south," she said haltingly, her accent too strong to ever sound smooth.

    He turned his head, gazing down the street at the corpse grove of fallen buildings. He knew what lay south if they went too far. The battle could always move, but without Dragon's voice coming from their wristbands, they would have no way of knowing until it was too late.

    "Fine," he said.

    "No argue?"

    "No point." His shoulders shrug. "I heard too. You're the boss."

    A falling piece of rubble struck his collarbone and the steel beam tore itself away from his grip, wrenching a wider hole leading into the garage.

    "Elevator check," he said and obligingly, a few designated people cautiously slip down. The all clear comes a minute later. He stands up, absently brushing concrete dust from his pants. It is no use. It just smears the wet clay mixture around on the blue jeans. "You know this is crazy, right?"

    "You said no argue."

    "I'm not arguing," he argues. "I'm commenting. It's crazy."

    "No trust?"

    "She's the one singing, right?" He rolls his grey eyes upwards. Rain streaks down his face in muddy tracks. "Guess I do a bit." He lowers his eyes. "You got the easy job."

    Le Faucon Blanc's lips purse with a pricked ego. Mjolnir grinned the grin of someone with nothing to lose.

    "Let's go kill an Endbringer."

    No one won an Endbringer fight.

    Hubris is the word for it.
    ​
    ___________​


    The Simurgh stopped screaming. Her awareness shrunk. She dismissed the possibility. The futures fall away. Closer. Nearer. More true. She knows what the Aberration is now. Possibly more than it knows itself. It can be fought.

    She lunges forward. The rock is thrown.

    She feels the impact and immediately knows what rose to meet her.

    David.

    She saw it. A future snapped into crystal focus. She could remove the secondary. Remove his influence from the board. A single strike is all it would take to break his neck. Paralyze him from the neck down. She does not take it. She now knows what the Aberration was capable of seeing. And what it couldn't. She felt reassured. Relieved. This is a game she knew how to play.

    And she only needed time.​
     
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    • So... Simurgh is still trying to kill Taylor, Taylor is still tripping balls, and the rest of the world is going more batshit than Lorgar's bedchambers.

    Yes, this level of confusion I'm feeling it exactly what it should be, clearly.
     
    Always Late said:
    So... Simurgh is still trying to kill Taylor, Taylor is still tripping balls, and the rest of the world is going more batshit than Lorgar's bedchambers.

    Yes, this level of confusion I'm feeling it exactly what it should be, clearly.
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    I apologize if its not to your liking, you can always come back later if you want. I'll still be updating.
     
    Observation: The Heretical angel is portrayed very well and takes into the merging of the settings. I love it when there is continuity.
     
    Shujin said:
    I apologize if its not to your liking, you can always come back later if you want. I'll still be updating.
    Click to expand...
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    I dunno, I sort of feel like this level of confusion is enhancing the story. It rather parallels how much confusion the characters themselves are probably feeling.

    Maybe the comment was genuine. If not, have a genuine one from me instead. :)
     
    Yeah, at first I was kind of annoyed by the confusion but I think I've come to appreciate it really. When two powerful precogs are battling it out on this kind of scale but neither can directly observe the other I really think everyone involved should be completely confused and the narrative carries that well. I'm pretty sure I know what both sides are trying to do, but I've got no clue at all who's doing a better job at it.

    Probably the only one on Earth Bet who isn't confused is Scion, and that's because confusion and despair long ago gave way to complete apathy for him.
     
    The one important bit I got is that the Simurgh is now essentially blind if she tries to look into the future due to the confusion, so now her only option is to look into the past.
     
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