- Location
- Denmark
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Next update goes up tomorrow, please don't hurt me.
Hell is Other People (Exalted/World of Darkness)
BungieONI
Seven gremlins in a trench coat
- Location
- Lickwidget
- Pronouns
- She/Her
ALLL FUCKING HAIL HER GLORIOUS DOMINION ON THIS EARTH!
THE STRONG HEAR HER SONG AND WEEP TEARS OF FURY!
THE WEAK REVEL IN THE DANCE AND ARE TORN ASUNDER!
BOW DOWN BEFORE THE NEW FLESH THE GREAT SONG.
ALL HAIL THE DEMON EMPRESS OF THE UNIVERSE!
THE STRONG HEAR HER SONG AND WEEP TEARS OF FURY!
THE WEAK REVEL IN THE DANCE AND ARE TORN ASUNDER!
BOW DOWN BEFORE THE NEW FLESH THE GREAT SONG.
ALL HAIL THE DEMON EMPRESS OF THE UNIVERSE!
- Location
- London, England
(She is such a bitch)
This sounds like closer to oWoD/cWord where the Technocracy are tech-themed mages with delusions of grandeur (like all mages) while the Vampires are the ones who have a significant stake in mortal government and the ability to actually use the mortal masses as a blunt instrument against anything they don't like.
This also means mortals are hilariously dangerous since a couple dozen guys with shotguns will fuck any single target up.
Last edited:
- Location
- Denmark
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Well you probably shouldn't assume mortals as dangerous to yourself if you're a combat-specced Exalt, but I do give Vampire primacy for now, that much is true yeah. I like a good cyborg as much as the next guy (not as much as @MJ12 Commando though, that guy is freaky
) but sometimes you need to cut some stuff away to get thematic purity or at least liketry
to keep things somewhat clean
MiracleGrow
Miracles for only $19.99 [They/Them]
- Location
- DOOR STUCK DOOR STUCK PLEASE I BEG U
We need to team up with a Sidereal so we can have the 'Reality is for Losers' group.
that's loser mode for sidereals tho
curse the fate of mighty spirits, and weave them into your flesh
become invulnerable
#sids2020
- Location
- Ekaterinburg, Russia
Honestly? I would have preferred if this won:
Largerly because, unlike other options, it seemingly holds not only dismissal on the previous actions and their nature... It is the only one that seems to hold a regret worth feeling - that of mistrusting close friends. Others? Pointless battles, tired arguments, useless texts, mindless games - something that clearly has no value for the Infernal-to-be. The emphasis there seems to be on disliking the quality of battles/arguments/texts/games in question.
In the option I quoted? The emphasis of the dislike in title itself seemed to be on the action, "mistrusting", and not on the subject, "close friends".
Article: [ ] Mistrusting Close Friends: You are not a trusting girl, you never were. You spent your days lying and cheating, never exactly on the side of the law. In high school, people knew came to you to get access to things they shouldn't get their hands on. Now? Well now everyone comes to you to get access to things they shouldn't have their hands on. You're not some back-alley dealer, you know people, many people, and you know how to get everything. It's just a matter of whom to ask.
Largerly because, unlike other options, it seemingly holds not only dismissal on the previous actions and their nature... It is the only one that seems to hold a regret worth feeling - that of mistrusting close friends. Others? Pointless battles, tired arguments, useless texts, mindless games - something that clearly has no value for the Infernal-to-be. The emphasis there seems to be on disliking the quality of battles/arguments/texts/games in question.
In the option I quoted? The emphasis of the dislike in title itself seemed to be on the action, "mistrusting", and not on the subject, "close friends".
So you're saying her shintai is a giant demon she-wolf?
Just so she can be the biggest bitch ever?
- Location
- my house
I'm still hoping for a towering colossus of black iron, with electrical cables for hair and aureola of pixilated light. Where she walks speakers and screens sing her praise, the babble of psychophants following her wherever she goes.
OR
A God-Idol of bronze and brass, crowned in green fire with trumpet wings, hymns of praise presaging her passage.
OR
An Eidolon of Black Nacre with a crown of stained glass shards and 7 wings of rainbow light
OR
A wolf of shattered bone-china with teeth of black iron whose howl summons snakes and wolves and other creatures from the shadows.
But yeah, Shintai's might be my favorite thing about Infernals so I have a lot of thoughts
greensun
You shall all burn beneath my light!!!
Listen, we're the Queen Bee archetype, the girl was a damned cheerleader for Godsake; if we don't turn into a giant, monstrous Bee Queen, we're doing it wrong.
Last edited:
Chrysalis Grotesque
- Location
- Denmark
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Trigger warning: If you have chronophobia (like me lol) or are afraid of upsetting descriptions of maggots, please do not read this update without caution.
Chrysalis Grotesque
Hell is other people.
An old and common saying, you think, but not many people understand the real truth to it. Hell isn't other people because they are frustrating to be near or because they are annoying or because they dislike you, not even because they might be Ravana. Hell is other people because of perception. It is an inevitability that misunderstandings will occur between two people and their different understandings of each other. What then about fifty people? A hundred people? A thousand? This has always been to your great consternation and joy as a natural attractor of people. You were always on top of the social hierarchy, so you could only see the hell unfolding beneath you, how the royal subjects of the incontestable queen of bitches played games with each other, schemed behind each other's backs, ruined their own friendships, made themselves more miserable, all for a shot of being with her for a minute, a second.
You thought this would change when you left your expensive private school for university, but if anything it became worse. People did not stop committing social suicide for your amusement, now it was young adults doing it instead of kids. People who might otherwise be intelligent, be smart, be understanding and empathetic. You saw them do the worst of things. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, they say, but people weren't exactly pining for reaching hell. Perhaps you were their heaven? The road to their very own heaven was paved with the worst of deeds.
It is thus to your great bliss that the place which you find yourself in has absolutely no one. Perhaps, you think, this is the blast shadow of the fires. Or some limbo in the middle of nowhere, where you will spend eternity. That thought doesn't bother you too much right now, it wouldn't be hard to spend eternity here, away from the unfairness of the world, away from the pain of your body, away from all things. You would float here, because you're not really sure if your feet are touching anything, nor are you sure if you really can be said to be in any conventional sense. Perhaps your eyes are merely closed, and the world would reveal itself to be different were you to open them? You should try that.
You open your eyes.
Fire.
Two stars of emerald once hovered in a dark void, beholding everything and yet beholding nothing. For in every direction which their light fell, it fell on nothing. Not even darkness, for darkness is merely the absence of light. There was nothing there, only the light of the two green suns. In realizing this paradox, that there could be no darkness in this heart of nothingness, the stars shone brighter and the light fell upon a great secret: in Is Not, they found that most high of treasures, Is.
A bright flash and a girl stands upon a ground of eternal snow, or is it ashes? Cold winds touch her skin, but she does not feel them. She stands naked and without animus on a rocky, frozen earth; a motionless doll with no meaning to her existence. Wind-borne flakes of ash or snow slowly begin to cover her shoulders and rest in her hair, which she seems not to notice. Why is she here? Has she no purpose anymore? Did the fire of her fury lose its warmth? Gutter out and die like so many things in this benighted realm, that is the shadow of all things? Most empty of all is her eyes, which are dead and without the glamour of life, dumb and dull. Like herself. The only light within them is the reflected light of the green stars above.
So, the doll stands for five kalpas, just as dumb and just as lifeless, seeing nothing and being seen only be the twin stars of hell above it. All manners of skittering shadows explore it and find it to be just as bleak and lifeless as the rocks which they dance upon, shadows cast by nothing. The doll does not notice them, how could it ever do so? It is only a doll. Incapable of acting or thinking, it can only accept what is done to it, for that is the nature of the doll; a toy for others.
Another kalpa passes and the cold winds knock over the doll and the stars see it no more, as cold ashes cover its body over innumerable years. Now, not even the skittering shadows know where it is. They say that the ancestors of their ancestors knew that there was a strange thing where now there are mountains, but who are they to say if they were right or wrong? Now there are mountains there and to their lives which are as candle-flames to the seemingly eternal stars, they might as well have always been there.
Four scores kalpas pass and the stars compress, unable to support their own burning magnificence anymore, they first grow to enormous size, scorching the surface in red incandescence and revealing the dull beneath. They burn its body, leaving its beautiful dark skin scorched and blackened, leaving its once-vibrant face a husk. In the end, the stars crumble upon themselves, the emerald sisters being left as nothing but tiny specks rotating around each other, too old and withered to keep their fire burning. The doll is buried again beneath the ashes, and the shadow of all things is dark and cold again, the two stars of emerald fire reduced to mere seconds in its eternity of nothingness. What is a heroic soul when compared to the eternity of the universe?
A female voice, "No!"
A shout, a scream, who dares to interrupt the nothingness? Who will be forgotten?
The doll looks at the stars, the now-white specks that had once gazed upon it so many ages ago. It weakly raises a single arm from an endless silver desert towards the heavens and grasps for the two pinpricks so far above. Perhaps the doll's dull, dumb eyes realize that its endeavour is fruitless, that it will be covered once again, that there is no room for its theatricalities in this nowhere-place.
The doll does not. She does not.
The hand reaches the stars and grasps for them, folding them, palming them, closing itself and pulling. But the stars remain in heaven and the doll remains on the earth. The woman pulls herself from the ground, pulls herself to the stars. In place of eyes, she has black holes which have not seen light for the duration of the universe and many more ages and her hair is white like the ashes that have covered it for ages. But her smile, oh how she smiles. It is the smile of the victor triumphant, the smile of someone who has triumphed against the universe and found it wanting.
You touch your empty eye holes and place the stars within, their guttered-out white specks catching aflame with the vibrant viridian that so consumed your body merely one day and ten thousand centuries ago.
You open your emerald eyes and you SEE:
You take in the new sights, making them part of yourself. Internalizing, memorizing and understanding. It goes deeper than mere rote memorization, for just like the nowhere-place, this place will stay with you forever, become part of what makes you you. You will carry this place with you forever, eternally holding a key to this hellish kingdom which you have reached. With a smile and the awareness that you are the mistress of this place far more than they are your masters, you take a step into nowhere and towards that which you know to be inevitable freedom.
"Sure took your sweet fuckin' time, eh? Sure you don't wanna take a detour for an ice cream now you're at it as well?" The familiar and mocking voice of Ravana breaks your multiplanar reverie like an icepick breaks the silent tranquility of frozen water.
"Fuck off Ravana." You say, getting the feeling that this is quickly going to be a very tired line of yours. "Okay, what is it?" You follow up, relenting a bit.
"Look, I'm sure you're determined to show me the full breadth of your personality, that is to say "dying in an alley" and "bitch mode", but I'm kinda here to talk about some important stuff so unless you feel really fucking confident, you really ought to shut up and let the adult here talk." He says with teasing sarcasm. You get the feeling that he really enjoys playing with you like this.
"I'm going to pretend you didn't just call me a child by implication" you begin, deliberately not commenting on the whole "bitch mode" part, "And then I'm going to grant you my leave to say what you've got to say if it's so fucking important."
"Oh well thank you gracious queen, are you sure you don't wanna withhold your blessing 'till you've completed your royal audience?" He quips back, mock-offended.
"Get it over with and get out of my face." Is your reply.
Laughing, Ravana finally gets to the point,"So you're a big fish now. The world ain't full of wonders and it's not all as it seems. I don't exactly know the real specifics-" You roll your eyes and sigh, "But I do know that you're fucking powerful now, and it's full of people who want to take advantage of that." He continues unabated, ignoring your disdain of him. Wait, is that alcohol you can smell on his breath? Why are you even surprised at this point?
"And here's the deal," he says, his bloodshot eyes trained utterly on you and possessed of a focus you had not thought possible for him, "No matter how much I frustrate you, It's my - admittedly self-appointed - job to make sure that you're capable of taking those people on. Do you get that? I know you do."
"So here's the deal," he says, repeating himself, "You're gonna say yes and you'll have the power to put any of those things to shame, the best fucking advisor you could ever have and the backing of all those terrible whatevers you have just gone through and more. I have faith even you couldn't fuck this up, although I'm sure you'll put it to the test."
"All you need is to say yes and take my hand."
You consider his offer. A big part of you wants to say no, to tell him to fuck off as usual, maybe ask him to eat shit for a change. You want to show him that you're in fucking command here and don't have time for his shenanigans and shit.
But on the other hand, he did take his time to be serious with you, and you get the feeling he means this, although you're not so sure about how much he really is "the best fucking advisor", but that can come later. More important, he also currently holds all the cards and you know nothing about this world you've found yourself in. If you want to make any sense of any of this, you need his help.
You close your eyes and sigh.
You take his hand.
Chrysalis Grotesque
Hell is other people.
An old and common saying, you think, but not many people understand the real truth to it. Hell isn't other people because they are frustrating to be near or because they are annoying or because they dislike you, not even because they might be Ravana. Hell is other people because of perception. It is an inevitability that misunderstandings will occur between two people and their different understandings of each other. What then about fifty people? A hundred people? A thousand? This has always been to your great consternation and joy as a natural attractor of people. You were always on top of the social hierarchy, so you could only see the hell unfolding beneath you, how the royal subjects of the incontestable queen of bitches played games with each other, schemed behind each other's backs, ruined their own friendships, made themselves more miserable, all for a shot of being with her for a minute, a second.
You thought this would change when you left your expensive private school for university, but if anything it became worse. People did not stop committing social suicide for your amusement, now it was young adults doing it instead of kids. People who might otherwise be intelligent, be smart, be understanding and empathetic. You saw them do the worst of things. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, they say, but people weren't exactly pining for reaching hell. Perhaps you were their heaven? The road to their very own heaven was paved with the worst of deeds.
It is thus to your great bliss that the place which you find yourself in has absolutely no one. Perhaps, you think, this is the blast shadow of the fires. Or some limbo in the middle of nowhere, where you will spend eternity. That thought doesn't bother you too much right now, it wouldn't be hard to spend eternity here, away from the unfairness of the world, away from the pain of your body, away from all things. You would float here, because you're not really sure if your feet are touching anything, nor are you sure if you really can be said to be in any conventional sense. Perhaps your eyes are merely closed, and the world would reveal itself to be different were you to open them? You should try that.
You open your eyes.
Fire.
Two stars of emerald once hovered in a dark void, beholding everything and yet beholding nothing. For in every direction which their light fell, it fell on nothing. Not even darkness, for darkness is merely the absence of light. There was nothing there, only the light of the two green suns. In realizing this paradox, that there could be no darkness in this heart of nothingness, the stars shone brighter and the light fell upon a great secret: in Is Not, they found that most high of treasures, Is.
A bright flash and a girl stands upon a ground of eternal snow, or is it ashes? Cold winds touch her skin, but she does not feel them. She stands naked and without animus on a rocky, frozen earth; a motionless doll with no meaning to her existence. Wind-borne flakes of ash or snow slowly begin to cover her shoulders and rest in her hair, which she seems not to notice. Why is she here? Has she no purpose anymore? Did the fire of her fury lose its warmth? Gutter out and die like so many things in this benighted realm, that is the shadow of all things? Most empty of all is her eyes, which are dead and without the glamour of life, dumb and dull. Like herself. The only light within them is the reflected light of the green stars above.
So, the doll stands for five kalpas, just as dumb and just as lifeless, seeing nothing and being seen only be the twin stars of hell above it. All manners of skittering shadows explore it and find it to be just as bleak and lifeless as the rocks which they dance upon, shadows cast by nothing. The doll does not notice them, how could it ever do so? It is only a doll. Incapable of acting or thinking, it can only accept what is done to it, for that is the nature of the doll; a toy for others.
Another kalpa passes and the cold winds knock over the doll and the stars see it no more, as cold ashes cover its body over innumerable years. Now, not even the skittering shadows know where it is. They say that the ancestors of their ancestors knew that there was a strange thing where now there are mountains, but who are they to say if they were right or wrong? Now there are mountains there and to their lives which are as candle-flames to the seemingly eternal stars, they might as well have always been there.
Four scores kalpas pass and the stars compress, unable to support their own burning magnificence anymore, they first grow to enormous size, scorching the surface in red incandescence and revealing the dull beneath. They burn its body, leaving its beautiful dark skin scorched and blackened, leaving its once-vibrant face a husk. In the end, the stars crumble upon themselves, the emerald sisters being left as nothing but tiny specks rotating around each other, too old and withered to keep their fire burning. The doll is buried again beneath the ashes, and the shadow of all things is dark and cold again, the two stars of emerald fire reduced to mere seconds in its eternity of nothingness. What is a heroic soul when compared to the eternity of the universe?
A female voice, "No!"
A shout, a scream, who dares to interrupt the nothingness? Who will be forgotten?
The doll looks at the stars, the now-white specks that had once gazed upon it so many ages ago. It weakly raises a single arm from an endless silver desert towards the heavens and grasps for the two pinpricks so far above. Perhaps the doll's dull, dumb eyes realize that its endeavour is fruitless, that it will be covered once again, that there is no room for its theatricalities in this nowhere-place.
The doll does not. She does not.
The hand reaches the stars and grasps for them, folding them, palming them, closing itself and pulling. But the stars remain in heaven and the doll remains on the earth. The woman pulls herself from the ground, pulls herself to the stars. In place of eyes, she has black holes which have not seen light for the duration of the universe and many more ages and her hair is white like the ashes that have covered it for ages. But her smile, oh how she smiles. It is the smile of the victor triumphant, the smile of someone who has triumphed against the universe and found it wanting.
You touch your empty eye holes and place the stars within, their guttered-out white specks catching aflame with the vibrant viridian that so consumed your body merely one day and ten thousand centuries ago.
You open your emerald eyes and you SEE:
Article: [ ] A Palace Ruined: Vines grow here over the stones. Glorious and mighty, this place has once been, but is no more. There is silence in this place where the clangor of a thousand instruments of violence might have sounded to billions of hoarse throats. Great battles were fought here, ashes mark the fires and the lightning. Brass grows here like verdigris on copper or weeds in a garden, in patches small and great. Once a great but humbled king called this palace his own, but this place has not seen a king in many years. Will it ever see one again?
[ ] A Plain Howling: The wind howls here, it howls and flays. They whip over endless plains not too dissimilar to those of the Red Planet. Sharp pinnacles and precipes of stone reach high towards heaven and the cutting winds dance through the rocks, free and innocent. Figures run down there, down on the plains. They run to escape the pain, they run to forget the cutting winds and piercing rocks and sharp sands. Their nakedness does not bring attraction or repulsion, only confusion. What fools they are, who can outrace the wind?
[ ] A City Sprawling: A skyline of wicked steel-glass towers rises in all directions heedless of human habitation. Angular and jagged, the rains and lightning dance their deadly dance with the inhuman towers wherein lines of power run through screens proclaiming "Eat! Eat! Eat!" and "Consume yourself!". Beneath the skyscrapers and looming skyline lie the temples and castles of yesteryear and yesterday, their visages forgotten in favour of high-flying advertisement boards and shining electricity. What have become of them now?
[ ] A Sea Boiling: Fat bubbles and boils, a greasy sea of burning blobs. The sea is mother to all life and mothers punish naughty children, the sea does not forget, the sea does not forgive. Even the skeletons are screaming, their pained and panicked yammering useless and pointless. How would the sea hear them? How would she care? Bubbling up from the dark depths below, gastronomic gases and stinking stenches rise, inducing nothing but revulsion and vomit. It is best they do so, who would gaze at the dark shapes that move below the sea?
[ ] A Desert Rotting: The desert is endless, its fine, white surface untouched. But the desert is not of sand and the surface is only untouched, not unmoving. Countless maggots make up this final place of decay, which once defined infinity. They crawl and burrow and bite into the fleshy tumors of residents who painfully trek through this rotting no man's land of squirming and spite. This place is not uncaring, it does not devour its inhabitants out of timeless existential conditions, but out of hate alone. What then, does this desert hate so cruelly?
You take in the new sights, making them part of yourself. Internalizing, memorizing and understanding. It goes deeper than mere rote memorization, for just like the nowhere-place, this place will stay with you forever, become part of what makes you you. You will carry this place with you forever, eternally holding a key to this hellish kingdom which you have reached. With a smile and the awareness that you are the mistress of this place far more than they are your masters, you take a step into nowhere and towards that which you know to be inevitable freedom.
"Sure took your sweet fuckin' time, eh? Sure you don't wanna take a detour for an ice cream now you're at it as well?" The familiar and mocking voice of Ravana breaks your multiplanar reverie like an icepick breaks the silent tranquility of frozen water.
"Fuck off Ravana." You say, getting the feeling that this is quickly going to be a very tired line of yours. "Okay, what is it?" You follow up, relenting a bit.
"Look, I'm sure you're determined to show me the full breadth of your personality, that is to say "dying in an alley" and "bitch mode", but I'm kinda here to talk about some important stuff so unless you feel really fucking confident, you really ought to shut up and let the adult here talk." He says with teasing sarcasm. You get the feeling that he really enjoys playing with you like this.
"I'm going to pretend you didn't just call me a child by implication" you begin, deliberately not commenting on the whole "bitch mode" part, "And then I'm going to grant you my leave to say what you've got to say if it's so fucking important."
"Oh well thank you gracious queen, are you sure you don't wanna withhold your blessing 'till you've completed your royal audience?" He quips back, mock-offended.
"Get it over with and get out of my face." Is your reply.
Laughing, Ravana finally gets to the point,"So you're a big fish now. The world ain't full of wonders and it's not all as it seems. I don't exactly know the real specifics-" You roll your eyes and sigh, "But I do know that you're fucking powerful now, and it's full of people who want to take advantage of that." He continues unabated, ignoring your disdain of him. Wait, is that alcohol you can smell on his breath? Why are you even surprised at this point?
"And here's the deal," he says, his bloodshot eyes trained utterly on you and possessed of a focus you had not thought possible for him, "No matter how much I frustrate you, It's my - admittedly self-appointed - job to make sure that you're capable of taking those people on. Do you get that? I know you do."
"So here's the deal," he says, repeating himself, "You're gonna say yes and you'll have the power to put any of those things to shame, the best fucking advisor you could ever have and the backing of all those terrible whatevers you have just gone through and more. I have faith even you couldn't fuck this up, although I'm sure you'll put it to the test."
"All you need is to say yes and take my hand."
You consider his offer. A big part of you wants to say no, to tell him to fuck off as usual, maybe ask him to eat shit for a change. You want to show him that you're in fucking command here and don't have time for his shenanigans and shit.
But on the other hand, he did take his time to be serious with you, and you get the feeling he means this, although you're not so sure about how much he really is "the best fucking advisor", but that can come later. More important, he also currently holds all the cards and you know nothing about this world you've found yourself in. If you want to make any sense of any of this, you need his help.
You close your eyes and sigh.
You take his hand.
Last edited:
[X] A Plain Howling: The wind howls here, it howls and flays. They whip over endless plains not too dissimilar to those of the Red Planet. Sharp pinnacles and precipes of stone reach high towards heaven and the cutting winds dance through the rocks, free and innocent. Figures run down there, down on the plains. They run to escape the pain, they run to forget the cutting winds and piercing rocks and sharp sands. Their nakedness does not bring attraction or repulsion, only confusion. What fools they are, who can outrace the wind?
Adoryan!
Adoryan!
ThatGuyWithIdeas
Treize died for our sins
- Location
- Romania
[X] A City Sprawling: A skyline of wicked steel-glass towers rises in all directions heedless of human habitation. Angular and jagged, the rains and lightning dance their deadly dance with the inhuman towers wherein lines of power run through screens proclaiming "Eat! Eat! Eat!" and "Consume yourself!". Beneath the skyscrapers and looming skyline lie the temples and castles of yesteryear and yesterday, their visages forgotten in favour of high-flying advertisement boards and shining electricity. What have become of them now?
Last edited:
[X] A City Sprawling: A skyline of wicked steel-glass towers rises in all directions heedless of human habitation. Angular and jagged, the rains and lightning dance their deadly dance with the inhuman towers wherein lines of power run through screens proclaiming "Eat! Eat! Eat!" and "Consume yourself!". Beneath the skyscrapers and looming skyline lie the temples and castles of yesteryear and yesterday, their visages forgotten in favour of high-flying advertisement boards and shining electricity. What have become of them now?
Young man, there's no need to feel down
I said, young man, pick yourself off the ground
I said, young man, 'cause you're in a new town
There's no need to be unhappy
It's fun to stay at the C Y B E R P U N K D Y S T O P I A
Young man, there's no need to feel down
I said, young man, pick yourself off the ground
I said, young man, 'cause you're in a new town
There's no need to be unhappy
It's fun to stay at the C Y B E R P U N K D Y S T O P I A
- Location
- Brittany, France
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] A Palace Ruined: Vines grow here over the stones. Glorious and mighty, this place has once been, but is no more. There is silence in this place where the clangor of a thousand instruments of violence might have sounded to billions of hoarse throats. Great battles were fought here, ashes mark the fires and the lightning. Brass grows here like verdigris on copper or weeds in a garden, in patches small and great. Once a great but humbled king called this palace his own, but this place has not seen a king in many years. Will it ever see one again?
I choose to believe this looks like Angkor Vat, which makes it the Objectively Correct choice and everybody else is wrong
I choose to believe this looks like Angkor Vat, which makes it the Objectively Correct choice and everybody else is wrong
Aspiring Dragon
Hoarder of stories
- Location
- United States
[X] A Palace Ruined: Vines grow here over the stones. Glorious and mighty, this place has once been, but is no more. There is silence in this place where the clangor of a thousand instruments of violence might have sounded to billions of hoarse throats. Great battles were fought here, ashes mark the fires and the lightning. Brass grows here like verdigris on copper or weeds in a garden, in patches small and great. Once a great but humbled king called this palace his own, but this place has not seen a king in many years. Will it ever see one again?
BungieONI
Seven gremlins in a trench coat
- Location
- Lickwidget
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] A City Sprawling: A skyline of wicked steel-glass towers rises in all directions heedless of human habitation. Angular and jagged, the rains and lightning dance their deadly dance with the inhuman towers wherein lines of power run through screens proclaiming "Eat! Eat! Eat!" and "Consume yourself!". Beneath the skyscrapers and looming skyline lie the temples and castles of yesteryear and yesterday, their visages forgotten in favour of high-flying advertisement boards and shining electricity. What have become of them now?
MOLOCH MOLOCH MOLOCH!
The Empress walked and found Hell to her liking and her horror. In the great City-Labyrinth she found the Truth of existence!
SERVE UNDER HER SONG!
MOLOCH MOLOCH MOLOCH!
The Empress walked and found Hell to her liking and her horror. In the great City-Labyrinth she found the Truth of existence!
SERVE UNDER HER SONG!
- Location
- Ekaterinburg, Russia
[X] A Palace Ruined: Vines grow here over the stones. Glorious and mighty, this place has once been, but is no more. There is silence in this place where the clangor of a thousand instruments of violence might have sounded to billions of hoarse throats. Great battles were fought here, ashes mark the fires and the lightning. Brass grows here like verdigris on copper or weeds in a garden, in patches small and great. Once a great but humbled king called this palace his own, but this place has not seen a king in many years. Will it ever see one again?
Mother Nyx
Mother of Elpis
- Location
- The Kei Klub
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] A City Sprawling: A skyline of wicked steel-glass towers rises in all directions heedless of human habitation. Angular and jagged, the rains and lightning dance their deadly dance with the inhuman towers wherein lines of power run through screens proclaiming "Eat! Eat! Eat!" and "Consume yourself!". Beneath the skyscrapers and looming skyline lie the temples and castles of yesteryear and yesterday, their visages forgotten in favour of high-flying advertisement boards and shining electricity. What have become of them now?
UrsaTempest
Don't Panic!
[X] A City Sprawling: A skyline of wicked steel-glass towers rises in all directions heedless of human habitation. Angular and jagged, the rains and lightning dance their deadly dance with the inhuman towers wherein lines of power run through screens proclaiming "Eat! Eat! Eat!" and "Consume yourself!". Beneath the skyscrapers and looming skyline lie the temples and castles of yesteryear and yesterday, their visages forgotten in favour of high-flying advertisement boards and shining electricity. What have become of them now?