Fanwork#2236 Words
Reaction: "Sky Above Sky"
Past quests often leave traces in our decisions and patterns of thought. I mean, the phrase has a potent enough meaning on its own, but Zhang Kong had been such a strong and evocative opponent that he'd forever tainted it by association. Even when there is no other connection to him whatsoever, the first reflexive thought on seeing this for me was 'oh shit, did we get eaten by the Honorable Elder?'
Hunger had an uneasy feeling as he carved through the legions of the Outer Temple, rushing headlong towards the Middle once more. He was making visible progress every day, growing in strength and proximity to the Imprisoned, but some ill premonition dogged him still, a feeling that, despite the life-and-death battles he'd participated in, the real challenge was still to come.
That's a feeling that is going to dog our steps for a very long time, I suspect. Even should we finish the Temple successfully, which becomes a more uncertain proposition with every day, we'll still have to brace ourselves for whatever Apocrypha had been cooking up in the wider world out there while we were busy with our dungeon crawl. It hardly bears thinking about, but I think that given our planned trajectory it is pretty likely it was either stirring shit up in the Voyaging Realm to make our journey even more difficult or influencing the tenuous situation in the Empire to our detriment. Hell, I won't be surprised to find out that Letrizia's father had died of complications by the time we rush back, though I suppose it could be more creative than that and do something more
interesting.
Focused exclusively on blood enhancement, his strength, speed, and regeneration all had increased prodigiously after the fight with the Archer, though his ranged attacks had benefited most of all. Now his blade-winds and projections struck with singing force, curving and dancing across the battlefield with easy fluidity, far less taxing to employ than before. With a substantial exertion of self, he could compress the power of his strikes even further, folding seven cuts into a single blow that would rend flesh and spirit alike.
Unsurprisingly, Hunger is impressed by the jump in stats provided by Quickening, but the real bread and butter he appreciates is Thousand Cuts. It expands our tactical options massively and improves our Ultimate significantly. The result of battle is often decided through an exertion of his utmost power, though it would be impossible without the support his stats provide.
Such power had served him well, rendering the entirety of the Outer Temple a trivial exercise, and yet...
The residents of the Middle Temple treated the Outer as nothing more than ablative armor, its autonomous armies culling the chaff from those unfortunates bound to the Temple's call. Any who made it to the Middle were controlled via carefully selected incentives, the carrot of bribery and the stick of the Outriders acting in concert to neuter the outsider threat. Even the weakest Outrider patrols seemed a match for the mightiest beasts of the Outer Temple.
They've been here for a long,
long time and had likely perfected their approach to this challenge through numerous attempts at getting the Lunar Ring by outsiders. As Seram once noted in his musings after miraculously getting support from the Sorcerous Council thanks to Jeanne being super-competent
and writing doujinshi for Porcelain, there is a significant difference between the efforts of an individual and those of a nation bent towards some purpose.
This time around we've made an enemy of such a nation full of super-powered individuals and are paying the price for that, though Progression-Type Cursebearers have more latitude in such circumstances than most. We can grow and feed on the conflict as long as we keep it in certain bounds, even if that's not an easy thing to do by any means.
If the Middle represented so great an increase in sophistication over the Outer, then what did that bode for the Ring's guardian itself? For all that his rate of progression had been absurd, was he growing strong enough, fast enough, in the fields that mattered against so versatile and well-resourced a foe? This was no single monster, to be baited and easily hunted. It was an entire civilization bent to the purpose of keeping their Ring imprisoned and extracting its value thereby. Was his own power too linear, too physically focused, to overcome them?
Are you perhaps doubting the Forebear's wisdom, Hunger? If it can't be cut, that means you're not cutting hard enough. Versatility is something people that don't have the Forebear's powers need to console themselves with! Sadly we haven't reached that level yet, so we're forced to compromise, but one day we'll show everyone the true meaning of employing our Cutting Wit in diplomatic negotiations.
But for all that he could doubt his chances of success, there was no doubt as to his course of action. He would cut through, until the Ring was freed.
Is there time for regrets still? Sometimes I look back on our choices and wonder how we ended up here. Most made sense individually, even if some were out there, but the end result is a bit... outrageous. Still, this is the course we set, so all we can do is complete this heroic task we've set before Hunger.
Mid-morning saw him in the Middle Temple again, deep past the bucolic pastures of its outskirts and into civilization proper, densely-populated towns of high medieval architecture separated by sweeping, carefully regimented fields of crops. In the valley between two towns he spotted an ongoing battle: A one-armed swordsman in grey Outrider leathers against a figure clad in unadorned plate. It was going poorly for the latter, puncture holes dotting their torso, the heavy steel of their armor rent and ruptured around each exit wound.
We never went into the Encampment and so didn't have a chance to find out their important figures, but this is supposed to be a R-type. Maybe he just hasn't come into his own yet, but seeing him so easily dismantled is worrying. I suppose he was also a bad match-up against Vanreir, fighting in heavy armor against Mister Pierce Through.
The swordsman spotted him out of the corner of his eye and swiftly attacked, jabbing with his blade in Hunger's direction. His movement was a blur even to the Cursebearer, and scarce had Hunger interposed the Evening Sky before it was pierced easily through, a wound sprouting across his lower torso. Whipping his cloak around he sprinted behind a nearby hill, blocking the swordsman's line of sight.
Well, that was annoying. Not that we expected Evening Sky to provide significant protection, which is why it didn't figure in most of our tactics, but for its defenses to be so paper-thin in the face of the Unerring Blade wasn't good news by any means. Not that I'm accusing our Mantle of anything, we probably need to invest more Arete and XP in it if we want it to remain useful in such uneven fights.
A perfect shot to the liver, punching clean through to daylight. Were it not for his Ring of Blood, it would quickly become a lethal wound. As it was, the relatively small cross-section of the attack meant it would only be the inconvenience of seconds. And yet there was no time to lose. Once the outrider dispatched his current opponent, Hunger would be next, and the enemy's incredible speed meant that pursuit would not favor him. What did he know so far? High physical parameters, already wounded, ranged thrust attacks with apparently infallible aim. His best solution was to meet offense with offense.
Our poor liver, we didn't even have any opportunity to try out the local booze before he'd cut it down! A truly cruel and merciless opponent that not only wants to take our life but also what little enjoyment we derive from it. Or maybe the shot was well-intentioned? Perhaps Vanreir is a religious teetotaler in addition to everything else and spreads his faith this way.
How much do we need to get injured before 'it was just a flesh wound' stops being convincing?
Wasting no further instants, he quickly leapt out from the hillside, launching a sevenfold blade projection directly at the swordsman as he charged. Eyes flickering briefly, the enemy intercepted his blade projection with one of his own, the thrust every bit the equal of the cut, spearing it in twain. Collapsed blade-force carved a meters-deep divot into the ground as the attack folded in on itself.
Hunger: To hell with this 'hold back your best stuff until a critical moment' nonsense.
Hunger: Ultimate Attack! 4bear Beeaaam!
Vanreir: I see your Ultimate and raise Basic Thrust!
Vanreir: It's super-effective against just about anything, you see.
Hunger: Oh shit.
That was the moment Hunger realized he'd fucked up.
Hunger was already lunging, sword like a flickering thresher as he fired forward consecutive blade-winds, Ring of Blood flaring to exacerbate the outrider's wounds and repair his own. Without hesitation the swordsman turned to face him, effortlessly countering the swarm of blade-winds while a strategically placed thrust put a hole through Hunger's heart.
Does he have a personal grudge against our critical internal organs? We need that to pump blood!..
A critical organ for most, but not for the bearer of the Blood Ring. Without so much as breaking stride Hunger continued brazenly forward, and the swordsman was forced to leap back in order to avoid a close-range grapple. At that moment the armored figure fired, its arm falling away to reveal a cannon-like apparatus before launching a thunderous salvo.
...actually, it looks like we don't.
I liked the 'surprise artillery, bastard' moment from our hapless ally. Would have been better to succeed in getting into grappling range though, but just because Vanreir is straightforward doesn't mean he's an idiot.
With unerring grace the outrider shifted in midair, blur of his sword a deflecting dance to answer the storm of bullets. Hunger joined in, charging again for the grapple, exerting the full power of his Ring to denude his enemy's blood in erratic, disorienting fits. At last the swordsman appeared to falter, but sensing a feint Hunger juked to the side in the moment before contact. Wisely so, as the outrider spun and thrust twice, displaying heretofore-unseen speed even as his blood was further suppressed. Light jabs both, but Hunger felt his eye put out all the same, and a corresponding groan from the armored figure.
Seems like our tactic to disturb his rhythm through chaotic Ring influence didn't quite work out. Was there actually a point in dodging there though? What with Vanreir's Blade being Unerring. Or did it help keeping us blinded rather than brain-dead?
Blind, but he still had his blood sense. No time for despair. And yet what could he do? The enemy was simply too fast, his reflexes too sharp, form and instincts impeccable, every attack landing exactly where it was placed. Desperately he exuded raw Pressure, sheer murderous intent, the cruel shining sun of his spirit blazing ceaselessly over his foe. At this finally the swordsman relented, reeling under that supernal might. For all his strength, there was a seam in this outrider's spirit, a thin dividing line that was only imperfectly sealed.
It's quite annoying to see someone use our own intended tactics against us to such great success, having our eye taken out where we were the ones wanting to cripple his vision. At least our decision to aim for the divide between his father's soul and his own paid off, even if the cost was steep. We aren't that proficient in the matters of the soul and don't have specialized powers for it, so we had to make do with raw Pressure. Such momentous exertions on Hunger's part are often a precursor to Tiredness or even Exhaustion.
And yet, how to exploit this weakness? His uttermost extrusion of Pressure had given the man pause, but it was not feasible to continue for long. A spirit-rending attack could harm him for sure, but he had no way of targeting that specific fault-line, and no way to reliably land such an attack against an enemy of this speed. If he let up the pressure for even a moment, the outrider would have time enough to prepare a serious thrust targeting Hunger's brain, and that would be the death of this flesh body. His ghost form, bereft of blood to enhance, would be completely outclassed by this foe.
Yeah, attacking his soul would have been much more effective than trying to overcome him in a physical fight, though it's quite uncertain we would have had the time and speed to enact such effects with a different, more magic-oriented build. Having an effective attack is all well and good, but we need to be alive to cast the spell.
Idly he noted that the armored figure, his erstwhile ally, had no blood at all.
Robots, robots everywhere. This is the second such specimen we've stumbled upon, though this time it's an ally rather than an enemy. Is there some kind of nation of magic robots out there in the Voyaging Realm?
He felt more than heard that figure's next movement, steamroller charge of pure crushing force, fury and clangor like an ironworks onrushing. Hunger redoubled the expulsion of his Pressure, hollowing himself out, pinning-in-place the outrider by sheer verity of spirit. Even so, at the last moment he felt the enemy throw off his influence, violent force as the outrider's very soul seemed to nearly rupture in twain, one-half of it absorbing the brunt of his assault so that the other could go free.
Ah, Exhaustion my old friend, how I've missed you. Not.
Too bad we couldn't keep Vanreir in place for a few moments more, that would have made the rest of the fight much easier. I suppose having two souls isn't solely a weakness, but can be a strength as well, if his father's soul is willing to withstand the Pressure for Vanreir.
There was a clap of thunder.
Blind and briefly spent, Hunger could barely react to the outside world as he marshaled his reserves once more. Through his bloodsense he saw the figure of the swordsman, blade outstretched, and heard the tinkling of armor plates falling to the ground.
Well damn son, you've made short work of the robot. Alas, we barely knew him. Vanreir seems to take his side job as a Hero-Killer seriously, getting rid of interesting characters before we had a chance to interact with them.
Slowly his Ring's regeneration restored his sight. The swordsman was a ragged ruin, raw muscle and bone naked to the winds, blood dribbling and pooling from countless tears across his form. In the last instant he must have met the incoming armor with a counter-charge of his own, a full-bodied piercing lunge that cored out the mass of plate in a single fell stroke. Indeed, there was a swordsman-shaped exit blown out the back of the hulking machine, which now slowly toppled. Of course, such an attack left no protection for its executor against the terrible crushing momentum of the armored figure's charge.
Talk about using his own body as a weapon and Thrusting with everything he's got. It's a good thing the attack had taken so much out of him, because if he'd managed to strike us one more time while we were blinded and so greatly expended from our spiritual Pressure assault, we would have likely been dead. Well, we would have probably killed him with Form of Rage seeing how he's on his last legs, but I wouldn't completely bet on it, he's that bullshit.
Panting, Hunger gave his opponent a nod of acknowledgement. He could respect the tenacity, the sheer force of will behind his unswerving technique.
That's an aspect of Hunger I like. He doesn't hold back against his enemies, but he also still has it in him to respect them despite being on opposing sides, be it for their skill or their convictions. Except for that Librarian guy, because fuck him and the high horse he rode on.
Politely, the outrider inclined his own head. Neither had the strength in this moment to summon an attack capable of bringing his opponent low. Hunger could only hope that the Ring of Blood rejuvenated him faster than the swordsman adapted to his own wounds. Trauma that would have killed a normal man seemed to only briefly faze him. Under the influence of his Ring, very little blood now remained in the man's veins, but the outrider stood stoic and nearly upright, a blade bent but unbroken. And like a blade, chipped and marred, damage to his physical form would weaken, but fail to render useless, so long as the edge was sharp.
And of course he has Battle Continuation, because why not? It doesn't heal his wounds, so he might still keel over afterwards, but that doesn't really help us in the moment. Crippled all over, drained of blood and pushed to the brink of exhaustion, he still fights on. Man, wouldn't that have been a nice ability to have for our Hunger? We heal quickly and normal weak points are less so thanks to the Ring of Blood, but we can still be disabled for a time. Not so for this guy, he can still continue as long as he draws breath, his will is undiminished and it's not physically impossible to make attacks.
"Vanreir, Amarlt," said the outrider, breathing heavily still, his voice a whispery croak. "The strength, of your spirit, is commendable."
"The spirit," Hunger remarked, his breaths equally ragged, "is willing; but the flesh, is weak."
Really hard to hold back comments there. All I'll say is that we can still go on for days if he can keep up!
Vanreir raised his hand and waved it slightly, as if to say that he had seen worse.
Slowly, painfully, he turned his blade to face Hunger, its tip pointed unsteadily at his eye.
What a stubborn bastard, still aiming for our eye even after we've managed to restore it. Was being completely blinded one of the more devastating complications that were possible in the aftermath of this fight?
"I, regret, the necessity of this," he said, "but know, that it's for, a good cause."
Right back at you, Vanreir. Hunger has his own reasons for doing this, though they're perhaps not quite as pure when it comes to the voters themselves.
Fighting through the exhaustion, Hunger took up his own stance, blade raised and poised to cut. The world contracted, static fuzzing in at the edges of his vision. He'd gone too far again, spent too much of his own essence pursuing an impossible feat. Still he dredged up what pitiful slivers remained, enough perhaps for one concerted attack.
Once is circumstance, twice is happenstance, but this is starting to become a pattern. We keep exhausting ourselves in fights we had no business winning. It looks awesome and is a really enjoyable read, but seeing his suffering during the downtime and the desperate straits it forces Hunger into isn't really fun.
He would let the man kill his flesh body, and hope that the surprise of his ghost form's emergence outweighed its now-lacking strength and speed. It was perhaps a vain hope. For the entirety of this battle Hunger had not landed a single physical blow upon this opponent.
Strange, did the later plan that secured Hunger's win only occur to him in the heat of the moment, or was he so uncertain about its feasibility that he didn't want to rely on it? Or maybe he got that much into acting in order to deceive Vanreir.
"I understand," Hunger said, steadying his blade. "Cut through, even if it cannot be cut. It must be quite the cause."
The swordsman frowned, eyes sharp. "You..."
Sensing an opening, a moment of weakness, Hunger still did not strike. He allowed his opponent to gather his thoughts.
This was a destined fight in some sense, which is one of the reasons why I can't really bring myself to regret running into such a superior opponent. He was a credit to the Forebear's legacy and can wear his last name with pride, no matter what those Inners would say about him and his family.
"Hmph," Vanreir shook his head. "What are the chances... my father once said something very similar. I'm not one to believe in fate, but I'm glad you were my final opponent. A worthy enemy can be rarer than even a true friend."
I wish we could have met Vanreir under better circumstances, he seems like a swell guy. Still, sometimes conflict is inevitable. He wanted to protect his way of life and earn his honor back, we wanted to free the Ring. There was little room for maneuver here.
"Well said," Hunger replied, idly scanning the battlefield. He raised his hand, setting his opponent's heart to beating, restoring some volume of Vanreir's blood. "Shall we decide properly which of our swords is the greater?"
I should have known at this very moment that Hunger was putting on his bullshitting hat here. No matter how much he respects his enemies, Hunger is eminently pragmatic. Healing Vanreir and saying that he wants to decide this fight with a final dramatic clash between their swords? Seralize would have had a lot to say about this, none of it worth mentioning in polite company.
"If you wish," Vanreir said, with the air of a man granting a final request. Hunger circled around to a particular point on the battlefield, matching the angle of his initial entry, where the sun fell in neither swordsman's eyes. Slowly he raised his blade aloft, jewel on his finger grim and subdued. The pallor of mortality was like a shadow across the battlefield. Each man knew that this moment could be his last.
This was even stronger foreshadowing, what with emphasizing the jeweled Ring, but I honestly didn't connect the dots until the very last moment. Hunger is so good at setting all this up that it would truly seem like a prelude to an honorable clash between two equal opponents to anyone who doesn't know the former Hero.
Vanreir walked to match him, taking up the stance of his signature thrust. Now within melee range, tip of his blade aimed squarely at Hunger's brain pan, the crystal-steel edge caught and splintered the sun's rays, a daytime thunderbolt.
Enough of sword-projections. An opponent such as this deserved the physical blade.
Hah. He really got into the act. Though for him to make it look so believable, there was probably really a part of him that thought this would end with a clash of swords.
On the same count they inhaled. An unspoken understanding passed between them. Time compressed, congealed, folded over on itself like molten amber. On came the thrust, that viperous lash of silver like lightning made steel. Hunger's blade descended, but slowly, far too slowly to land any serious blow. By the time Amarlt's thrust loomed before him, his hand had managed only to interpose itself between the enemy's sword and his own head.
I thought for a moment we were seriously going to die or at least lose our hand there.
There was a clang of steel against silver, a clarion note of pure deflection. The Forebear's Blade fell from nerveless fingers.
Then this moment of pure 'what the hell happened', almost brushing over the part about deflection and panicking at seeing him letting go of the Blade, only to go back and do a double-take. Because what could we have possibly deflected him with if our sword was too slow?
Like an inverse kingfisher Amarlt was pointed skywards, his blade thrusting forwards and up, the all-piercing force of his strike no match for the indestructible Ring in its path, which had been bound to Hunger's finger by the Accursed himself. Hunger pressed downwards with his right foot, titanic strength collapsing the weakened ground around the divot that his very first blade-projection had created.
I'm somewhat ashamed the Ring's indestructibility didn't occur to me as a means of deflecting Vanreir's strikes. Probably because we mostly joked about our finger getting cut off and didn't think too deeply about the implication of its description for combat, so kudos for making use of that in such an appropriate and dramatic manner. Even managing to insert a fishing reference!
Falling rapidly, the bones of his hand a shattered ruin, the Foebear's Blade was level now with his mouth. Snatching it in his teeth, he fired a single blade-projection, one last absolute exertion. Committed still to his thrust, Vanreir could not change his trajectory. Cleanly bisected, chest from sternum, still his arms and eyes and blade could only face up, up, up: turned forever heavenward, as if to pierce through the sky itself.
But there was always a sky above the sky. One could pierce for all eternity without finding its limit.
Age and treachery had prevailed again, though victory tasted like ashes in his mouth. Slowly he examined the Ring, its jewel flaring crimson, the pulse of its inhalation drawing a thundering sea of power.
Jewel and band and finger all were whole and untouched. Of Vanreir Amarlt's final attack, no evidence remained, not even so much as a scratch.
Vanreir died as he lived, trying to pierce through his the obstacles in his path with all he's got. Only this time, his best wasn't enough.
The victory wasn't only bittersweet for Hunger, I didn't feel very good about the implications either, both for us and for his remaining family. Still, he's not the first to suffer defeat and die at our hands, nor will he be the last. He was exceptional in many ways, I'll admit, someone I would have liked to get to know better and help as a character, but everyone is a hero of their own story.
---
The winner was Dialogue and Resolve The Accursed, as expected. Choose your Devastating Complication.
[ ] Punctured Soul - Rank reduced by 10%, physical attributes by 20%, mental attributes by 30%, and social attributes by 40% for 1 month.
[ ] True Maiming - Liver wounded on a metaphysical level. Permanently reduce CON and CON improvements by 10% and suffer 400% increased vulnerability to poison and supernatural disease. Suffer severe damage upon strenuous exertion for the next three days.
[ ] Lingering Exhaustion - Exhausted for a week and Tired for the week after. Any interruption of rest may worsen Exhaustion.
Sometimes the votes feel like a litany of 'how did you fuck up your day
this time' options. Devastating complications, what can you do? Still, True Maiming isn't quite as awful as I thought if it can be healed in months and there are options for which Lingering Exhaustion isn't quite as critical.
---
You have 4 picks and have special dispensation to spend up to 2 Arete, assuming that your Arete generation this update will cover it.
[ ] Forebear's Blade - Echo of the Forebear - Cloud-shadow of the Forebear's might.
Legendary strength and speed, and the resilience to exert them. Can be taken multiple times. [+Might, +Agility]
[ ] The Ring of Power - Dominion - 2 Arete
A ring of power does not exert influence casually. It has its own will, its own preferences, and if that will should be inseparable from its owner's, its sway thereby shall be greater for it.
Select a domain of influence. While acting within its domain, [Ring of Power] effects are substantially less taxing and more potent; the effects of this can be abstracted as follows: treat the owner's Rank as if it somewhat* higher for related actions. You may select this advancement multiple times, choosing a different domain each time. If multiple domains apply, their bonuses do not compound.
*+0.5 if Low, +.25 if Mid, +.1 if High.
The available domains for Hunger are: War, Passion
[ ] Fierce Quickening - The absurd violence of Blood unleashed. Let all that falls within its dominion be spilled, if it be in service to the Ringbearer. Adds [++Agility, +Wits] to the bonuses from Quickening, subject to the usual conditions. Can be taken up to 3 times.
[ ] Vigor Itself - The primordial might and glory of Blood resplendent. Let all who witness its form tremble, and be subject. Adds [++Might, +Charisma] to the bonuses from Quickening, subject to the usual conditions. Can be taken up to 3 times.
[ ] Augment Dominion: Blood - The world-wielding will of the Ring.
Treat the wielder's Rank as if it were (.5 Low/.25 Medium/.1 High) higher for purposes of the [Ring of Power] effect applied to the Blood domain, increasing its potency and versatility. Repeatable, but costs 1 more pick each time.
[ ] Evening Sky - Opalescence - The soft light of evening before which all attacks falter.
Improves defensive parameters. [+Protection]
[ ] Evening Sky - Iridescence - 2 Arete - The sharp light of the stars before which all malice is lessened.
+Protection, +Charisma. Expands the range of effects subject to the Evening Sky, allowing it to passively weaken almost all forms of magic. Even Nullity itself can be once withstood before the Sky recedes.
--- 3-pick Advancements ---
[ ] Forebear's Blade - Ruinous Valor (3 picks)
Where he advanced, so did the tide of entire wars, the shock of his blade like a hurled epicenter, the trail of his passage but wasteland and rubble.
[+++++Strength]
Power of Ruin now scales upwards depending on your Strength.
Choose:
Einhander - You may not regrow or replace your left arm by any means. Substantially reduces the cost and increases the range of special attacks made with the Forebear's Blade. This Advancement grants Might instead of Strength (+Might = +Str, +Con).
Zweihander - Regrow your left arm. Your barehanded strikes now carry the full destructive power of the Forebear's Blade.
If Einhander is taken, unlocks One Arm Fury.
If Zweihander is taken, unlocks Martial Stances: Forebear's Blade
[ ] The Ring of Power - Inheritor (3 picks, 2 Arete)
He whose soul contains multitudes, may inherit the legacy of those fallen.
Defining Advancement. You may only have three Defining Advancements.
*Choose one Soul Evocation user you have slain. You may use their Soul Evocation at a substantial fraction of the original wielder's skill. Apply [To Shatter Heaven] to their Soul Evocation, but gain fragments of their selfhood.
*+50% to the value of that user's highest Attribute +s.
*+50% the value of that user's second highest Attribute +s.
*-10% to the value of future Rank +s, but you may train Rank manually.
*++Mental Contamination from the user you target. Their soul lives on as your prisoner.
*Available Evocations: The Librarian. The Correspondent. The Unerring.
--- 4-pick advancements ---
[ ] Feat: Kinslayer - A true opponent's worth. Set Rank to 5. (4 picks)
[ ] Forebear's Blade - Uttermost (4 picks)
Focus beyond absolute focus. To cut what cannot be cut. To pierce what cannot be pierced. To go further and even further beyond in the unrelenting pursuit of perfection. To exert every iota of self, turn every faculty of purpose, bind every testament of will towards a single, unswerving ideal: that is what it means to do one's uttermost. There are no compromises for he who walks the path of the blade.
Do, even if it cannot be done.
Defining Advancement. You may only have three Defining Advancements.
Cannot mitigate the Doom of the Tyrant beyond its original state
Expends and sacrifices the Form of Rage
Increase by 30% the value of all Rank +s
Reduce by 30% to the value of Luck, Protection, Wisdom and Charisma +s
+++++++Willpower, ++All Other Stats
First Blade: Restores the Forebear's Blade. Apply the effects of the Fell-Handed Stroke, including modifiers, to all basic attacks with no surcharge. You may upgrade [A Thousand Cuts] to [Cut Through] for the difference in their Arete costs.
[ ] Hunger - Stranglethorn (4 picks)
Age and treachery made flesh.
The might of beasts is not the only province of the ring Hunger. It bears witness to a deeper and elder power as well, the strength of root and stem that bleeds life from the earth itself to thrust upwards towards heaven. The might of oaks, ancient and thousand-ringed, which crumbles stone and blunts steel, which repels the wind and absorbs the tide, which stands unscathed even in the face of heat and fury. That juggernaut stubbornness like a gnarled fist: the power to push through problems with patient, unyielding strength, to break them down and see them crushed beneath you.
Defining Advancement. You may only have three Defining Advancements.
Increase by 20% the value of all Rank +s
Double the value of Strength and Constitution +s
Double the value of Willpower +s
Reduce by 20% the value of Agility +s
Establishment: By committing meaningful resources towards a given context, and staking out a solid position, you slowly but increasingly accrue power and influence within that context, becoming ever-more inescapable and impossible to dislodge.
Most of the options are very nice, but Unerring and Uttermost felt like they were the most dramatically appropriate, not to mention they start with the same letter! Librarian and Stranglehorn were neat too, so I was still uncertain after it became clear that Unerring would lose, but Priest's pictures pushed me over the fence.
[X] Lingering Exhaustion
[X] Forebear's Blade - Uttermost