A Simple Transaction I
- Thread starter Rihaku
- Start date
- Original
[X] SAVE
[X] Titan-Felling
[X] Titan-Felling
Here's a reaction I wrote most of last night. I'm not sure if the last part really counts, but hopefully it's entertaining?
Two beautiful colors that go... uncomfortably together. The latter's so smooth, too light for gold. Perhaps sun-bleached stone, or the sand of an idyllic coastline? The green is brighter than Balance's and so vibrant I can't recall the last time I saw it. Closer to a patch of clovers than grass or leaves, like a sun-dappled meadow or carefully tended garden. But presented like this, it appears less the border of two biomes and more a pustule.
These colors don't pop up here pretty much ever. Does that say something about our playstyle?
So we get a figure as to what high-teens physical stats look like. 200-fold and counting, but still only competitive with Middle Temple outriders? The Ring's power is outright insane, expecially now that we know that Plerion was killed and his genius was being mined and distributed just as much as the Azure's power itself.
"Barely more exertion than the ghostly Knights." Those were some Shadow of the Colossus boss monsters the first time we met one! The power of Progression hardly needs expounding upon, but that Hunger adapts his expectations so quickly is something to make note of. Is this his Intelligence in action, or just the weight of his lifetime of experience?
I wonder how many times the Hunger Interrupt has to happen to Letrizia before she gets used to it. I'm sure she's seen plenty of close saves in her line of work as a Giant Robot Anime protagonist before, but this dude's a literal one-eyed one-armed swordsman with a self-reforging magic claymore. How does one with modern (or modern-adjacent) perception of the world ever come to see such an event as natural, let alone reasonable?
Is that part of how she puts up with us so well? A bit of sage wisdom while fishing, some Charisma and a strange new world kind of vibe, the whole thing's just dreamlike enough to make us trigger that willing suspension of disbelief? Gisena could probably hypnotize with just her voice, but Hunger seems to be playing the long game instead... wait a minute. Is Letrizia the audience-insert?
I didn't even know this was possible. Is it a part of Justinian-Vanreir's peerless Black Mage impression, or just the imperfect nature of Rank-based defense? Accretion was said to modify stats very little, while providing instead rough causuality-warping protection. Defensive rank seems to be pretty common, so any attack that doesn't account for it's useless. Still, with their demonstrated control over the local monsters, how adept were the Temple-folk at conquering spiritual operators before they fell?
Or... is the Ring only able to heal it physically, but not spiritually? Has it been usurped, its territory stolen? It must be pissed. The entire Panoply is as much a part of Hunger as his own flesh and spirit, so perhaps to evoke the Uttermost involved more than just the Blade's consent...
How fast was that battle anyway? We only took three wounds in that fight, and one was to the Ring-finger. I suppose we should thank ro-bro for taking some hits for us, because the Aura zombie never missed and out-statted us in pretty much every way.
If our Outer Shadow keeps us from taking soul-puncturing wounds like this one ever again, that justifies having taken it on its own. Not likely because conceptual OP-ness is OP, but I can dream. When we next meet a swordsman of crushing skill and ability, not having filthy natural weaknesses like needing a brain to live sounds really good in my book.
Never doubt a true lady's rig, that base alone could probably knock Kilimanjaro flat. And is maintaining your piloting skills really 'staying in shape' anyway? I don't think we had recovered Totality yet, so she must be relying on Verschlengorge's natural instincts and whatever manual controls exist here.
She's been thinking that up all day, hasn't she? It's so nice to see our little Duchess trying to keep up with Gisena and Hunger in her own way, even is she's doomed to fail horribly for the crime of not being Accursed-backed.
Imagining the giant robot imitating the emphatic gestures of a young noblewoman is deeply amusing. Does it do this all the time?
Wait, a character is tired in a quest and suffers actual loss of focus and attentiveness? Is that legal?
In all seriousness I love how that line at the end sells what the feeling of just abject exhaustion. You stop for a second and immediately you're slipping away... for all characters in fantasy and fiction seem to be able to slip the bonds of the sleep cycle like it was a birth defect, it's as universal to life as gravity is to mass. Even plankton and algae have to sleep.
Then again, they don't take gravity all that seriously either...
So does the Evening Sky have a mind of its own, or does it run on his subconscious insitncts? With things like Philosopher's Wreath within its purview, I have to say it could be either. But what form of magic would it take to bring out such an incredibly vast source of power as instinct... a Rin g of Blood, perhaps? Or a second mind, fit for a second soul, a legendary soul whose weight is vast as the heavens are wide? If the sky itself could become the tomb of cosmologies entire, could it not become a sword's sheath besides?
For a Blade fit to preside an eternity of war, I'm not so sure.
Speaking of that blade, it's back! It shattered itself to slay the Tyrant at any cost – and reconstituted itself from blood and ashy clarity when he slew another man willing to sacrifice anything to win. A synthesis no lesser than Justinian's with himself, and perhaps not one he would be ashamed of, if he could see how much effort we took to spare his people.
I hope Erii's okay. She'll suffer no more under the politics of a peoples that recognize no worth beyond the power their Ring and its zombified butchers can spare them. What she'll never have in technology or family, one wants to believe she might recoup in a modicum of true freedom and peace. At the very least, the rigorous lifetime of unremitting service that brings a Soul Evocation to the level of Avecarn or Justinian's own will never be required of her.
No, I'm not at all bitter we skipped Selune vi Tries.
Does that count as a pun? When you're so mono-focused you can't be described without invoking unintentional self-reference, I guess a certain amount of irony becomes unavoidable. This rabbit hole is deep enough to have been Pierced Through!
Also, got to respect that thought discipline. He's far too tired to have a flashback right now. Won't help with the nightmares though...
Equipment modifications, in my world-conquering high fantasy antihero quest? It's more likely than I thought!
Like Battle Mastery before this, it gives me fond memories of the classic RPGs. Like Cecil Harvey becoming a Paladin, this kind of story-based progression reflected not only by invisible power-ups that only appear for instants during battles but outside of them as well, is so... right. Power should feel weighty, victory should be something held aloft with pride, and true achievement should never be found relegated to a dusty trophy case. Power compounds itself because it is real and – in short – alive.
I wonder if this mindset would go against the Forebear's own views. Such a superficial concern, power being a reward or a statement and not just a tool, etc... but then, he was also a Final Boss monster. To say his own might wasn't transformative in its own right would verge on denial, and he's been described as far too old and weathered to care about convincing himself of things that aren't true.
(If the Forebear is just Progression++++ Zabuza I'mma cluck.)
A man of true culture: his sword now extended, he seeks first to establish a firm grip...
Its really quite a beautful description, a weapon that promises death without cloak of glamour or whispers. No pretense is needed, no deep philosophical or psychological alignment is implied. The cold steel, bane of myth and pride of men, intimately powerful and utterly merciless.
Yep, still best girl.
Cash talk, in this case about investments. The lady Artriez should really know by now never to grapple with a guerilla in the field of frugality. For what is wealth to he who casts the Rod of Ages?
It occurs to me he'll have to have someone else managing his accounts, so steering the conservation this way is a real long-term necessity. While money isn't worthless to him, fundamentally the Doom of the Tyrant makes operating a legal reserve rather counterintuitive. It'd be such a waste of Gisena's talents to put her to work in a desk job, and really – if we can keep the young Duchess out of Verschlengorge more than needs must, her life will be dramatically longer for our trouble.
Wait, wouldn't association with a major mercenary organization be scandalous to a futuristic aristocracy? I guess it could go either way, the space-based Universe might be a lot more appreciative of willing gun-hands than modern, hyper-unified nations. When colonial impetus has reduced ethnic and regional narratives to ancient memories, a wild-west styled trust in deeds over words or appearances would be entirely rational.
With the Gleam this is likely no longer an issue, but it has implications. Do space mercs have a good reputation, generally speaking? Are they actually paid well? If we can tempt them, we can use them to bolster our numbers once we start pushing outwards. From pirate-slayer to pirate lord! The ultimate conquest.
I wouldn't have thought of that. But yeah, she's probably on a first-name basis with every other Armament pilot. That carries so much political and economic clout in practice I think she might be able to look Xiaoling in the eye. With her Sharpbright later on, maybe even speak to her through that Lion Queen charisma radiance.
Cajoling, from Hunger? Never. You saw nothing. And thirty precent is actually really nice, she's got us paying out the Uttermost rate. If her money weren't basically guaranteed to end up our money, I expect there'd be more pushback. Hunger's little if not savvy, he knows how to crowd control his party.
Also, docking Gisena's pay? Gisena gets paid? Do I want to know what she spends her cut on? I know it's not field manuals for technology, since her indefatigable genius makes her so good at reverse-engineering that even competent instruction is just a waste of time. Maybe tools? Her nullity and godlike stats probably render those unhelpful beyond reference data. Imagining her hammering nails with her dainty bare hands is funny, I must admit.
Such savagery, to wield the full might of a sorceress and a cursebearer against a single defenseless lady! Hopefully Gisena's bullying is less blindingly intense than the lady Ming's was. I wonder if she's been coaching Letrizia while we've been busy studying the blade? It's not like the girl's not also a genius space wizard now, she's basically the closest thing Gisena'll find to a peer group that isn't also a Ring-slaver.
I wonder if Gisena's efforts towards Artifice can be sped up with the right time investments... the Republic Kill-Team would have been a lot of help there, as would somehow sparing the Foremost park ranger. Unfortunately Blood is approximately 0% help there. Maybe she can go into cybernetics? Augment rejection won't be a problem with our help!
But Nullity's hardly a power source, is it? For Letrizia or us she could use our Elements or the Shadow, but for herself she's stuck to mundane mechanisms. Unless... if we get the Tomb, can we find and seize a White Hole? Cage it with Nullity, harness it with Artifice, and use it to power anything she wants!
No, no. It's too dangerous. After all, then we'd be Krista. I don't think we could handle being that awesome.
I actually never realized that Gisena had given Letrizia a nickname before now. I guess that's the true power of a Sorceress – her Negaverse quest is so comfy that the voters never even realize they're working together towards common ends! Who needs Arete when you have [REDACTED]?
...her participation resource is literally that, isn't it?
Okay, so the Ring can lower the penalty for having a literal hole in our soul a little bit. Like the metaphorical Lord shouting to the peasants to stop running around and screaming like chickens with their heads cut off, the wound won't bleed out but it could still rupture. Yep, I'm going to say it's pissed about this whole thing.
Barely-avoided casualties aside, that we chose to be maimed permanently is so funny to me in retrospect. Who does that? How do you explain to a hypothetical stranger that you chose to have organ damage rather than just be tired for a couple weeks?
...so this is the power of the King's Scepter!? The fishing memes are proliferating like narrative grey goo. Soon there will be nothing but fish of ever-mightier persuasion, grand oceans of toil and blood and tears fit to sift the seabed of squamous beasts so beautiful as to leave moon and stars alike above gaping in awe. No earthen patch shall remain, nor waves nor sky, but roiling tides of land-sea and void-sea, worlds lost amidst boats of man-casings casting tackle and hook into the unknown future. Their father-sea, immaterial Blue-White, inescapable in weight and glory, waterfall speed and intensity held intact by immaculate Violet-Black, mother-river and eldritch whispering table of silt and sunset, ravening pulse of life and death unspangled, prime mysticism unveiled in all its terrible majesty!
Or it could just be a fishing contest. That works too. Arete and + to a pick? We've not had a deal that good since, have we?
Undoubtedly the pleb-est of options. Even Seram Law wouldn't do something this lame, and he was a filthy casual Gamer cursebearer.
How do you even put your Uttermost into Slacking Off? Does it involve intentionally provoking people into requesting you do things so you can then shout them down? Or buying a palanquin and making other people carry us around? Maybe being exaggeratedly selfish and greedy could've earned us some lee-way with the Doom, in the same way as the Apocryphal Curse let us off the hook when we went into the Temple.
Y'know, before we made it unmitigable.
Get Cerber-bro back up to fighting standard. He's our Pillars-equivalent for the time being, attracting random encounters strong enough to justify a couple more Advancements while we travel. Without him that down-time'd be wasted unless we took some insane social power-ups that let us turn enemies into minions.
The Ring is putting in so much work by this point, it's crazy. Healing was a great development, I'm not a fan of dying and I'm sure no one else here actually is either. The whole die to go ghost battle strategy is pretty crazy looking back on it, but I thought it was really cool at the time. Kind of sad we never found a way to get Swift as Death again, and with Quickening we've functionally out-moded the form beyond escape or pure desperation.
Filthy blue option, but also comfy. Paid off in dividends so massive I hesitate to recall the storm in its entirety. I had forgotten this required healing Verschlengorge to do, which leads to an interesting thought about how precise the Ring's power over its subjects' healing actually is. Our boy Hunger doesn't need to know the inner workings of the giant robot to repair a specific component or set thereof, only to know vaguely what he wants it to focus on. Perhaps Letrizia and Gisena helped?
Also, the flip-side of the 'not Sarem' coin. He avoided side-quests like the plague. Perhaps the benefit of experience? There's a grain of truth in the concept of doing side-quests for power; like Mr. Miyagi's regimen of chores, training time and patience both stack up with hours upon hours of doing random busywork. And though the rewards in a destiny-disabled system are always lower than one would hope, gratitude and positive reputation are real and invaluable forces that might alone often has trouble generating.
Everyone's favorite part of the update, welcome to the AGENCY DOME! Many will enter, only one will win.
Starting out, we've got an advancement that needs no introduction. The original standby, the Brute Force, the big fishguts itself, Echo of the Forebear! Standing at an equal three +s to different physical stats, it has everything you could possibly want. Killing power, more killing power, syner... well, they can't all be winners.
Next up, we have an old favorite! The Ring of Power brought to bear, the sweet and succulent promise of power made real: Dominion itself. That name has one hell of a pedigree, seen last as the first stage of Titanic Ascension. There its power let the user cast out their inner Universe as a gradient field, warping reality as a side-effect of just standing there. This time the Ring seems to be doing the heavy lifting, turning up the pressure on everything visceral it can catch in its light.
Now here's a two-fer, the Ring of Power coming in with the Quickening combo! Mental stats? You betcha'! They don't know it down there in the ring, but these puppies have some potential. When they tick up to 3, they open up Vigor Incarnate and Honing, two high-end combat options that might even be able to sneak a little bit of the s-word past the ref. Only time will tell!
And one more from the Ring, this time it's the signature move: the Chief Dominion! It looks like they've thrown in a couple upgrades too, can it do that? With doubled power the Blood effects will be able to pulverize the insides of even Outriders like Vanreir. If you'll remember, that kind of power was the only thing that kept Vanreir from pinning us to the wall.
But we've got word from above, real hush-hush stuff, that there's an even better version on the table soon. If the Ring can get its shine on and tag in an old friend from somewhere dark and scary soon, its just money in the bank. Say, are we sure that's a bad thing?
But hold up, here's the Evening Sky! Neglected and ignored for so long, these two picks are happy to play defensive. Strong enough to take on an atom bomb, and prehensile to boot, these upgrades combine to block out the Sigils and Evocations that the Temple guardians have been throwing at us since day one. They've the best odds of pulling off the Age and Treachery routine in action, though odds are they'll never see light of day in this time-limited arena.
One day, fans. One day.
Wait, that's what the Sky was planning this whole time? It's getting in on the Ring of Power's rise, using its old name Hunger for solidarity. Maybe it called in a favor? Full mental stat gains to go with Quickening's physical, and we've seen what even a little bit of brain boosting can do with Uttermost! It's even making promises to team-up with some big names like Gisena and Letrizia, and to reduce that nasty Heartlessness stat if it gets through? Too much, or not enough?
And there's the wild card pick we've all been waiting on! Gisena's mark on its Conj. Tag, boosting our efficiency in doling out the right cuts, this power would make Vanreir blush and Bearic faint. With discounts, versatility, multi-stat boosts, and that risk all the voters know and crave, this Advancement has it all! But that one little word "Resistable" has us worried. Better advancements than it have lost their careers for unreliability. It's got so much potential, but if it can't stick the landing we'll probably never see it again.
Two beautiful colors that go... uncomfortably together. The latter's so smooth, too light for gold. Perhaps sun-bleached stone, or the sand of an idyllic coastline? The green is brighter than Balance's and so vibrant I can't recall the last time I saw it. Closer to a patch of clovers than grass or leaves, like a sun-dappled meadow or carefully tended garden. But presented like this, it appears less the border of two biomes and more a pustule.
These colors don't pop up here pretty much ever. Does that say something about our playstyle?
So we get a figure as to what high-teens physical stats look like. 200-fold and counting, but still only competitive with Middle Temple outriders? The Ring's power is outright insane, expecially now that we know that Plerion was killed and his genius was being mined and distributed just as much as the Azure's power itself.
"Barely more exertion than the ghostly Knights." Those were some Shadow of the Colossus boss monsters the first time we met one! The power of Progression hardly needs expounding upon, but that Hunger adapts his expectations so quickly is something to make note of. Is this his Intelligence in action, or just the weight of his lifetime of experience?
I wonder how many times the Hunger Interrupt has to happen to Letrizia before she gets used to it. I'm sure she's seen plenty of close saves in her line of work as a Giant Robot Anime protagonist before, but this dude's a literal one-eyed one-armed swordsman with a self-reforging magic claymore. How does one with modern (or modern-adjacent) perception of the world ever come to see such an event as natural, let alone reasonable?
Is that part of how she puts up with us so well? A bit of sage wisdom while fishing, some Charisma and a strange new world kind of vibe, the whole thing's just dreamlike enough to make us trigger that willing suspension of disbelief? Gisena could probably hypnotize with just her voice, but Hunger seems to be playing the long game instead... wait a minute. Is Letrizia the audience-insert?
I didn't even know this was possible. Is it a part of Justinian-Vanreir's peerless Black Mage impression, or just the imperfect nature of Rank-based defense? Accretion was said to modify stats very little, while providing instead rough causuality-warping protection. Defensive rank seems to be pretty common, so any attack that doesn't account for it's useless. Still, with their demonstrated control over the local monsters, how adept were the Temple-folk at conquering spiritual operators before they fell?
Or... is the Ring only able to heal it physically, but not spiritually? Has it been usurped, its territory stolen? It must be pissed. The entire Panoply is as much a part of Hunger as his own flesh and spirit, so perhaps to evoke the Uttermost involved more than just the Blade's consent...
How fast was that battle anyway? We only took three wounds in that fight, and one was to the Ring-finger. I suppose we should thank ro-bro for taking some hits for us, because the Aura zombie never missed and out-statted us in pretty much every way.
If our Outer Shadow keeps us from taking soul-puncturing wounds like this one ever again, that justifies having taken it on its own. Not likely because conceptual OP-ness is OP, but I can dream. When we next meet a swordsman of crushing skill and ability, not having filthy natural weaknesses like needing a brain to live sounds really good in my book.
Never doubt a true lady's rig, that base alone could probably knock Kilimanjaro flat. And is maintaining your piloting skills really 'staying in shape' anyway? I don't think we had recovered Totality yet, so she must be relying on Verschlengorge's natural instincts and whatever manual controls exist here.
She's been thinking that up all day, hasn't she? It's so nice to see our little Duchess trying to keep up with Gisena and Hunger in her own way, even is she's doomed to fail horribly for the crime of not being Accursed-backed.
Imagining the giant robot imitating the emphatic gestures of a young noblewoman is deeply amusing. Does it do this all the time?
Wait, a character is tired in a quest and suffers actual loss of focus and attentiveness? Is that legal?
In all seriousness I love how that line at the end sells what the feeling of just abject exhaustion. You stop for a second and immediately you're slipping away... for all characters in fantasy and fiction seem to be able to slip the bonds of the sleep cycle like it was a birth defect, it's as universal to life as gravity is to mass. Even plankton and algae have to sleep.
Then again, they don't take gravity all that seriously either...
So does the Evening Sky have a mind of its own, or does it run on his subconscious insitncts? With things like Philosopher's Wreath within its purview, I have to say it could be either. But what form of magic would it take to bring out such an incredibly vast source of power as instinct... a Rin g of Blood, perhaps? Or a second mind, fit for a second soul, a legendary soul whose weight is vast as the heavens are wide? If the sky itself could become the tomb of cosmologies entire, could it not become a sword's sheath besides?
For a Blade fit to preside an eternity of war, I'm not so sure.
Speaking of that blade, it's back! It shattered itself to slay the Tyrant at any cost – and reconstituted itself from blood and ashy clarity when he slew another man willing to sacrifice anything to win. A synthesis no lesser than Justinian's with himself, and perhaps not one he would be ashamed of, if he could see how much effort we took to spare his people.
I hope Erii's okay. She'll suffer no more under the politics of a peoples that recognize no worth beyond the power their Ring and its zombified butchers can spare them. What she'll never have in technology or family, one wants to believe she might recoup in a modicum of true freedom and peace. At the very least, the rigorous lifetime of unremitting service that brings a Soul Evocation to the level of Avecarn or Justinian's own will never be required of her.
No, I'm not at all bitter we skipped Selune vi Tries.
Does that count as a pun? When you're so mono-focused you can't be described without invoking unintentional self-reference, I guess a certain amount of irony becomes unavoidable. This rabbit hole is deep enough to have been Pierced Through!
Also, got to respect that thought discipline. He's far too tired to have a flashback right now. Won't help with the nightmares though...
Equipment modifications, in my world-conquering high fantasy antihero quest? It's more likely than I thought!
Like Battle Mastery before this, it gives me fond memories of the classic RPGs. Like Cecil Harvey becoming a Paladin, this kind of story-based progression reflected not only by invisible power-ups that only appear for instants during battles but outside of them as well, is so... right. Power should feel weighty, victory should be something held aloft with pride, and true achievement should never be found relegated to a dusty trophy case. Power compounds itself because it is real and – in short – alive.
I wonder if this mindset would go against the Forebear's own views. Such a superficial concern, power being a reward or a statement and not just a tool, etc... but then, he was also a Final Boss monster. To say his own might wasn't transformative in its own right would verge on denial, and he's been described as far too old and weathered to care about convincing himself of things that aren't true.
(If the Forebear is just Progression++++ Zabuza I'mma cluck.)
A man of true culture: his sword now extended, he seeks first to establish a firm grip...
Its really quite a beautful description, a weapon that promises death without cloak of glamour or whispers. No pretense is needed, no deep philosophical or psychological alignment is implied. The cold steel, bane of myth and pride of men, intimately powerful and utterly merciless.
Yep, still best girl.
Cash talk, in this case about investments. The lady Artriez should really know by now never to grapple with a guerilla in the field of frugality. For what is wealth to he who casts the Rod of Ages?
It occurs to me he'll have to have someone else managing his accounts, so steering the conservation this way is a real long-term necessity. While money isn't worthless to him, fundamentally the Doom of the Tyrant makes operating a legal reserve rather counterintuitive. It'd be such a waste of Gisena's talents to put her to work in a desk job, and really – if we can keep the young Duchess out of Verschlengorge more than needs must, her life will be dramatically longer for our trouble.
Wait, wouldn't association with a major mercenary organization be scandalous to a futuristic aristocracy? I guess it could go either way, the space-based Universe might be a lot more appreciative of willing gun-hands than modern, hyper-unified nations. When colonial impetus has reduced ethnic and regional narratives to ancient memories, a wild-west styled trust in deeds over words or appearances would be entirely rational.
With the Gleam this is likely no longer an issue, but it has implications. Do space mercs have a good reputation, generally speaking? Are they actually paid well? If we can tempt them, we can use them to bolster our numbers once we start pushing outwards. From pirate-slayer to pirate lord! The ultimate conquest.
I wouldn't have thought of that. But yeah, she's probably on a first-name basis with every other Armament pilot. That carries so much political and economic clout in practice I think she might be able to look Xiaoling in the eye. With her Sharpbright later on, maybe even speak to her through that Lion Queen charisma radiance.
Cajoling, from Hunger? Never. You saw nothing. And thirty precent is actually really nice, she's got us paying out the Uttermost rate. If her money weren't basically guaranteed to end up our money, I expect there'd be more pushback. Hunger's little if not savvy, he knows how to crowd control his party.
Also, docking Gisena's pay? Gisena gets paid? Do I want to know what she spends her cut on? I know it's not field manuals for technology, since her indefatigable genius makes her so good at reverse-engineering that even competent instruction is just a waste of time. Maybe tools? Her nullity and godlike stats probably render those unhelpful beyond reference data. Imagining her hammering nails with her dainty bare hands is funny, I must admit.
Such savagery, to wield the full might of a sorceress and a cursebearer against a single defenseless lady! Hopefully Gisena's bullying is less blindingly intense than the lady Ming's was. I wonder if she's been coaching Letrizia while we've been busy studying the blade? It's not like the girl's not also a genius space wizard now, she's basically the closest thing Gisena'll find to a peer group that isn't also a Ring-slaver.
I wonder if Gisena's efforts towards Artifice can be sped up with the right time investments... the Republic Kill-Team would have been a lot of help there, as would somehow sparing the Foremost park ranger. Unfortunately Blood is approximately 0% help there. Maybe she can go into cybernetics? Augment rejection won't be a problem with our help!
But Nullity's hardly a power source, is it? For Letrizia or us she could use our Elements or the Shadow, but for herself she's stuck to mundane mechanisms. Unless... if we get the Tomb, can we find and seize a White Hole? Cage it with Nullity, harness it with Artifice, and use it to power anything she wants!
No, no. It's too dangerous. After all, then we'd be Krista. I don't think we could handle being that awesome.
I actually never realized that Gisena had given Letrizia a nickname before now. I guess that's the true power of a Sorceress – her Negaverse quest is so comfy that the voters never even realize they're working together towards common ends! Who needs Arete when you have [REDACTED]?
...her participation resource is literally that, isn't it?
Okay, so the Ring can lower the penalty for having a literal hole in our soul a little bit. Like the metaphorical Lord shouting to the peasants to stop running around and screaming like chickens with their heads cut off, the wound won't bleed out but it could still rupture. Yep, I'm going to say it's pissed about this whole thing.
Barely-avoided casualties aside, that we chose to be maimed permanently is so funny to me in retrospect. Who does that? How do you explain to a hypothetical stranger that you chose to have organ damage rather than just be tired for a couple weeks?
...so this is the power of the King's Scepter!? The fishing memes are proliferating like narrative grey goo. Soon there will be nothing but fish of ever-mightier persuasion, grand oceans of toil and blood and tears fit to sift the seabed of squamous beasts so beautiful as to leave moon and stars alike above gaping in awe. No earthen patch shall remain, nor waves nor sky, but roiling tides of land-sea and void-sea, worlds lost amidst boats of man-casings casting tackle and hook into the unknown future. Their father-sea, immaterial Blue-White, inescapable in weight and glory, waterfall speed and intensity held intact by immaculate Violet-Black, mother-river and eldritch whispering table of silt and sunset, ravening pulse of life and death unspangled, prime mysticism unveiled in all its terrible majesty!
Or it could just be a fishing contest. That works too. Arete and + to a pick? We've not had a deal that good since, have we?
Undoubtedly the pleb-est of options. Even Seram Law wouldn't do something this lame, and he was a filthy casual Gamer cursebearer.
How do you even put your Uttermost into Slacking Off? Does it involve intentionally provoking people into requesting you do things so you can then shout them down? Or buying a palanquin and making other people carry us around? Maybe being exaggeratedly selfish and greedy could've earned us some lee-way with the Doom, in the same way as the Apocryphal Curse let us off the hook when we went into the Temple.
Y'know, before we made it unmitigable.
Get Cerber-bro back up to fighting standard. He's our Pillars-equivalent for the time being, attracting random encounters strong enough to justify a couple more Advancements while we travel. Without him that down-time'd be wasted unless we took some insane social power-ups that let us turn enemies into minions.
The Ring is putting in so much work by this point, it's crazy. Healing was a great development, I'm not a fan of dying and I'm sure no one else here actually is either. The whole die to go ghost battle strategy is pretty crazy looking back on it, but I thought it was really cool at the time. Kind of sad we never found a way to get Swift as Death again, and with Quickening we've functionally out-moded the form beyond escape or pure desperation.
Filthy blue option, but also comfy. Paid off in dividends so massive I hesitate to recall the storm in its entirety. I had forgotten this required healing Verschlengorge to do, which leads to an interesting thought about how precise the Ring's power over its subjects' healing actually is. Our boy Hunger doesn't need to know the inner workings of the giant robot to repair a specific component or set thereof, only to know vaguely what he wants it to focus on. Perhaps Letrizia and Gisena helped?
Also, the flip-side of the 'not Sarem' coin. He avoided side-quests like the plague. Perhaps the benefit of experience? There's a grain of truth in the concept of doing side-quests for power; like Mr. Miyagi's regimen of chores, training time and patience both stack up with hours upon hours of doing random busywork. And though the rewards in a destiny-disabled system are always lower than one would hope, gratitude and positive reputation are real and invaluable forces that might alone often has trouble generating.
Everyone's favorite part of the update, welcome to the AGENCY DOME! Many will enter, only one will win.
Starting out, we've got an advancement that needs no introduction. The original standby, the Brute Force, the big fishguts itself, Echo of the Forebear! Standing at an equal three +s to different physical stats, it has everything you could possibly want. Killing power, more killing power, syner... well, they can't all be winners.
Next up, we have an old favorite! The Ring of Power brought to bear, the sweet and succulent promise of power made real: Dominion itself. That name has one hell of a pedigree, seen last as the first stage of Titanic Ascension. There its power let the user cast out their inner Universe as a gradient field, warping reality as a side-effect of just standing there. This time the Ring seems to be doing the heavy lifting, turning up the pressure on everything visceral it can catch in its light.
Now here's a two-fer, the Ring of Power coming in with the Quickening combo! Mental stats? You betcha'! They don't know it down there in the ring, but these puppies have some potential. When they tick up to 3, they open up Vigor Incarnate and Honing, two high-end combat options that might even be able to sneak a little bit of the s-word past the ref. Only time will tell!
And one more from the Ring, this time it's the signature move: the Chief Dominion! It looks like they've thrown in a couple upgrades too, can it do that? With doubled power the Blood effects will be able to pulverize the insides of even Outriders like Vanreir. If you'll remember, that kind of power was the only thing that kept Vanreir from pinning us to the wall.
But we've got word from above, real hush-hush stuff, that there's an even better version on the table soon. If the Ring can get its shine on and tag in an old friend from somewhere dark and scary soon, its just money in the bank. Say, are we sure that's a bad thing?
But hold up, here's the Evening Sky! Neglected and ignored for so long, these two picks are happy to play defensive. Strong enough to take on an atom bomb, and prehensile to boot, these upgrades combine to block out the Sigils and Evocations that the Temple guardians have been throwing at us since day one. They've the best odds of pulling off the Age and Treachery routine in action, though odds are they'll never see light of day in this time-limited arena.
One day, fans. One day.
Wait, that's what the Sky was planning this whole time? It's getting in on the Ring of Power's rise, using its old name Hunger for solidarity. Maybe it called in a favor? Full mental stat gains to go with Quickening's physical, and we've seen what even a little bit of brain boosting can do with Uttermost! It's even making promises to team-up with some big names like Gisena and Letrizia, and to reduce that nasty Heartlessness stat if it gets through? Too much, or not enough?
And there's the wild card pick we've all been waiting on! Gisena's mark on its Conj. Tag, boosting our efficiency in doling out the right cuts, this power would make Vanreir blush and Bearic faint. With discounts, versatility, multi-stat boosts, and that risk all the voters know and crave, this Advancement has it all! But that one little word "Resistable" has us worried. Better advancements than it have lost their careers for unreliability. It's got so much potential, but if it can't stick the landing we'll probably never see it again.
- Location
- Pindorama
Inserted tally
ImperatorV
The Laughing One
- Location
- The Voyaging Realm
So anyway, I came up with some more Curse ideas. So, in the interests of Arete, have some
Fan Curses 2.0 (#572 Words)
[ ] Affliction of Powerloss
At irregular intervals, you will lose a significant portion of your power, typically between 20% and 60% before mitigation. The amount of power lost depends on the interval; the longer it has been since the last instance, the more power you will lose. The power you lose can be regained through various means, and will always be easier to regain then it was to obtain in the first place.
Remittances of the Accursed are less effected by this curse. For example, a Combat-Class Cursebearer would find this curse has a reduced effect on the powers directly granted by their Remittances, and a Progression-type will find that their power of Progression is never lost, although the results of it can be.
Should you be unlucky enough to possess both this Curse and the Apocryphal Curse, the two curses will sync up and always proc at the same time. Do not do this if it is at all avoidable.
[ ] Geas of the Drifter
You may not stay in any given area for longer then one month. The definition of "area" scales with your power level; at a low power level it may be individual towns and cities, scaling up to provinces, nations, or even entire worlds. Should you overstay your time in a given area, or return to an area you have already exhausted your time in, you will gain the Apocryphal Curse (or severely increase its strength, if you already have it) until a month after you have left the prohibited area.
Be careful you do not run out of areas to travel to - a very real concern for those that are powerful and do not possess the means to travel between worlds.
[ ] Doom of the Murderer
You are addicted to killing. If you go for longer then a week without having killed a person, you will suffer increasingly severe withdrawal symptoms until you inevitably flip out and murder everyone near you. The amount of people you need to kill to satisfy this curse increases as your power does - become too strong, and you may have to butcher entire cities, countries, or worlds. Furthermore, you derive great pleasure from the act of killing, and all other pleasures are reduced to you.
[ ] Brand of the Eldritch
You posses an aura of madness that causes anyone who interacts with you for more then a few minutes to begin to go insane. The more they interact with you, the worse this will become. Any enemies of yours who are subject to this curse will go mad in ways that do not reduce the threat they pose to you - and they may go insane in such a manner as to increase their ability to oppose you, if such a thing is possible.
Additionally, if you possess enhanced charisma or other social abilities, or if you have obviously much greater power then is typical for the area you are in, people who witness you will have a chance to become mad cultists who perform deranged acts in your name. As your memetic appeal increases, the proportion of people who become your mad followers will also increase.
Mitigation can reduce the effect of your maddening aura or immunize certain chosen individuals.
Fan Curses 2.0 (#572 Words)
[ ] Affliction of Powerloss
At irregular intervals, you will lose a significant portion of your power, typically between 20% and 60% before mitigation. The amount of power lost depends on the interval; the longer it has been since the last instance, the more power you will lose. The power you lose can be regained through various means, and will always be easier to regain then it was to obtain in the first place.
Remittances of the Accursed are less effected by this curse. For example, a Combat-Class Cursebearer would find this curse has a reduced effect on the powers directly granted by their Remittances, and a Progression-type will find that their power of Progression is never lost, although the results of it can be.
Should you be unlucky enough to possess both this Curse and the Apocryphal Curse, the two curses will sync up and always proc at the same time. Do not do this if it is at all avoidable.
[ ] Geas of the Drifter
You may not stay in any given area for longer then one month. The definition of "area" scales with your power level; at a low power level it may be individual towns and cities, scaling up to provinces, nations, or even entire worlds. Should you overstay your time in a given area, or return to an area you have already exhausted your time in, you will gain the Apocryphal Curse (or severely increase its strength, if you already have it) until a month after you have left the prohibited area.
Be careful you do not run out of areas to travel to - a very real concern for those that are powerful and do not possess the means to travel between worlds.
[ ] Doom of the Murderer
You are addicted to killing. If you go for longer then a week without having killed a person, you will suffer increasingly severe withdrawal symptoms until you inevitably flip out and murder everyone near you. The amount of people you need to kill to satisfy this curse increases as your power does - become too strong, and you may have to butcher entire cities, countries, or worlds. Furthermore, you derive great pleasure from the act of killing, and all other pleasures are reduced to you.
[ ] Brand of the Eldritch
You posses an aura of madness that causes anyone who interacts with you for more then a few minutes to begin to go insane. The more they interact with you, the worse this will become. Any enemies of yours who are subject to this curse will go mad in ways that do not reduce the threat they pose to you - and they may go insane in such a manner as to increase their ability to oppose you, if such a thing is possible.
Additionally, if you possess enhanced charisma or other social abilities, or if you have obviously much greater power then is typical for the area you are in, people who witness you will have a chance to become mad cultists who perform deranged acts in your name. As your memetic appeal increases, the proportion of people who become your mad followers will also increase.
Mitigation can reduce the effect of your maddening aura or immunize certain chosen individuals.
Sealed in a can, how traditional!
Anyway, since the riskier strategy won, I'm going to vote for
[X] SPEND
[X] Outer Sky
Index update forthcoming when I'm not on my phone.
Coming right up 9 more shitposts but this time it is AST 0 as the source for the crazy AI.
Come and see the Fool`s Arete - looks like Arete, reads like Arete but at the end is just shitpost created by AI
AST 0 GPT (9 Shitposts) - 6890 Words
Snippet 1
Snippet 2
Snippet 3
Snippet 4
Snippet 5 (POMI OMG)
Snippet 6
Snippet 7
Snippet 8
Snippet 9
Come and see the Fool`s Arete - looks like Arete, reads like Arete but at the end is just shitpost created by AI
AST 0 GPT (9 Shitposts) - 6890 Words
Snippet 1
Sleek! Forfeit! But don't worry; I have a bag full of treasure. Go, find it, and find the Hero who made all this possible.
"The Hero Who Built This World," he commanded the knights, as he stepped out into the night. "I'll bring you something unique to bring to light the wondrous world of Pandaria. I never imagined that this wondrous world could exist, full of life and death, with the full force of Pandaria's power."
"Who is it?" Jeanne asked, fidgeting with her hat.
"The Crystal Sorceress," he said, "The Hero Who Built This World. Immediate family. <3''
They left peacefully, exhausted and out of breath. Seram walked down the path that lead to the Orcwaste, a village of painted elves shivering in the cool night air. "You should have seen this coming," he said.
Jeanne was talking artfully. Seram worried about his new-found power. To him, touchsight was the only way to perceive the world. To him touchsight was the mind-body connection, a mind-material reality pervading all perception. There was no interface present in his mind, no boundary between perception and mind.
"I'm just saying that," he said. "Now, I'm not saying you have to be a genius to use this, or any other mind-body interface,"
He paused. "You're not even supposed to have this, aren't you?"
Jeanne pouted. "I had no idea."
"Your aura of telekinesis is so strong it even breaks bones," Seram countered. "So you're super-weak, so you can't use your powers."
"Yeah," Jeanne replied, "I'm so super-weak that I can't use them."
"You don't believe me?" Seram frowned. "Because we all do,"
"I... I think I'm crazy."
He glanced away. Perhaps it was because of this aura that Jeanne was less inclined to associating power with unattainable attributes. It was true that he was super-weak, but that was a separate issue.
"You're not even supposed to have this."
He shrugged. "You did almost try."
"I did," Jeanne replied. "And I guess I'm just saying that you're not even supposed to have this."
"You didn't think I was crazy?" Seram frowned.
"You didn't think I'd try?"
Resisting Seram
By now Seram had entered his own mind. He'd understood that his powers were limited only by his ability to change the environment, and that if he didn't change the environment, he wouldn't be able to effectively use them, much to his own well-being. For that reason he had taken the initiative and invested great efforts into his Amplitude.
He'd taken the Amplitude himself, a slotted 9.4-millisecond-per-second (MMP) wobble that allowed him to perceive the world in his personal space. The speed at which he could move was constantly being tested, and his attempts to sense the universe had fallen short of delivering on his expectations.
Nonetheless he'd discovered one crucial feature of his new-found powers - that wobble could be converted into power.
"The world can change, you know. I can change half a magnitude of what it feels like to feel pain, and then change that magnitude to feel good," Seram said. "That feels good."
"I'm not saying that you should be using my powers for the mundane," Jeanne replied dryly. "But it's one of the things about the world, you have
"The Hero Who Built This World," he commanded the knights, as he stepped out into the night. "I'll bring you something unique to bring to light the wondrous world of Pandaria. I never imagined that this wondrous world could exist, full of life and death, with the full force of Pandaria's power."
"Who is it?" Jeanne asked, fidgeting with her hat.
"The Crystal Sorceress," he said, "The Hero Who Built This World. Immediate family. <3''
They left peacefully, exhausted and out of breath. Seram walked down the path that lead to the Orcwaste, a village of painted elves shivering in the cool night air. "You should have seen this coming," he said.
Jeanne was talking artfully. Seram worried about his new-found power. To him, touchsight was the only way to perceive the world. To him touchsight was the mind-body connection, a mind-material reality pervading all perception. There was no interface present in his mind, no boundary between perception and mind.
"I'm just saying that," he said. "Now, I'm not saying you have to be a genius to use this, or any other mind-body interface,"
He paused. "You're not even supposed to have this, aren't you?"
Jeanne pouted. "I had no idea."
"Your aura of telekinesis is so strong it even breaks bones," Seram countered. "So you're super-weak, so you can't use your powers."
"Yeah," Jeanne replied, "I'm so super-weak that I can't use them."
"You don't believe me?" Seram frowned. "Because we all do,"
"I... I think I'm crazy."
He glanced away. Perhaps it was because of this aura that Jeanne was less inclined to associating power with unattainable attributes. It was true that he was super-weak, but that was a separate issue.
"You're not even supposed to have this."
He shrugged. "You did almost try."
"I did," Jeanne replied. "And I guess I'm just saying that you're not even supposed to have this."
"You didn't think I was crazy?" Seram frowned.
"You didn't think I'd try?"
Resisting Seram
By now Seram had entered his own mind. He'd understood that his powers were limited only by his ability to change the environment, and that if he didn't change the environment, he wouldn't be able to effectively use them, much to his own well-being. For that reason he had taken the initiative and invested great efforts into his Amplitude.
He'd taken the Amplitude himself, a slotted 9.4-millisecond-per-second (MMP) wobble that allowed him to perceive the world in his personal space. The speed at which he could move was constantly being tested, and his attempts to sense the universe had fallen short of delivering on his expectations.
Nonetheless he'd discovered one crucial feature of his new-found powers - that wobble could be converted into power.
"The world can change, you know. I can change half a magnitude of what it feels like to feel pain, and then change that magnitude to feel good," Seram said. "That feels good."
"I'm not saying that you should be using my powers for the mundane," Jeanne replied dryly. "But it's one of the things about the world, you have
Snippet 2
If a monster is truly a creature of the night, why would a Witchcraft Sorceress pursue such a creature? The answer lies in the power of the nectar that consumes creatures. The scent of the nectar is what makes them comfortable, but the essence of oppression. The scent of the nectar is what makes humanity who they are.
A Witch Sorceress would gain the ability to sense the nectar in the form of blossoming eyes, a power that allowed her to extinguish the torment of the Nightmare without the presence of her benefactor. But that power was not always available to her. As the Sorceress herself confessed, she had grown disoriented at the scope of her powers: "I was unable to take advantage of the fullness of my nectar level until a few weeks before my first battle. The strength of my nectar level had nearly diminished the next day, but I had somehow managed to siphon away the energy as fast as possible and was finally able to peruse the available resources in earnest this afternoon."
"Very well, I will now turn now to the overwhelming evidence for the supernatural nature of the Sorceress's power, which I will present here in light of the context in which it was first discovered.
The scent of the nectar wafted forth from her blossoming eyes, like an unceasing avalanche sweeping across a battlefield. As if searching for an unguarded path to perdition, they glowed like incandescent gold, a luminosity so unlike the fleeting fleeting glance of an unseeing eye that it seemed to pervade the entire sky.
The Twilight Sorceress, it appeared, was not a skilled dancer. She merely needed the touch of a Sorceress to swiftly and effortlessly dispatch the orcs within the radius of her breath. In addition, her body was far too fragile to withstand the strain of a single throw from any object. To survive such a charge, she would have to conserve energy extensively.
Instead, the Sorceress found another means to kill: a projectile that, if accurate, could strike multiple times at once. Without hesitation, she completed her initial attack.
"Pressure!" She commanded the Nightmare Sorceress, a violet-gold helmet that sported a dazzling array of tresses and graces, to wear. "Aether filled to the brim, 100-150 HP! This is futile! Let" she told her prim and proper lieutenant, "attack."
The Sorceress instantly sprang forward with a thrust of her full power, and with a mighty push of her right arm she tore through the orcish lines to deliver the fatal blow. The shockwave from her enhanced physical strength instantly detonated the orcs within its melee range, leaving a bloody mess behind. Their bodies buckled in the pain, but the Sorceress continued to push, pushing, pushing, pushing... until finally she arrived at the final stop on the itinerary.
The Waste
Wild as it was to be caught in the crossfire of an orcish offensive, the Waste was far from its full potential. It was vast and undulating, its unyielding conviction undiminished by its fellows' selfishness. But the core of its structure was that it was a living hell. The corpses of those slain in battle piled on and piled on, like living shank buried one foot into the earth. Almost as an afterthought, the corpses of those slain in battle piled on and piled on, like bodies buried in a church. The air was thick with corpses, piled with bodies, and the ranks of the dead piled up against the stone.
The orcish army was routed, routed, routed, routed. Perhaps the most desperate of the horde, the orcs were reduced to nothing more than puppets cast out of proportion by the unstoppable force of the earth. Their spears, their axes, their mail, all fell uselessly to the unforgiving mire of the earth. But the Waste continued to drag them, dragging it slowly and painfully, slowly, slowly, slowly, slowly. The orcs grew ever-so-slightly slimmer; their forearms grew proportionately larger. Their gums developed in proportion to how fluid their root systems were. They began to glow yellowish-red in the center, then began to slowly darken in brightness.
By this point the orcs had been exhausted for several days; they could barely hold a battle and no amount of ingenuity could stop them. The Waste was not a fight to be won. But after the first few hundred attacks by the orcs would rapidly turn the tide of their war. The humans, however, would not allow that. They would take down the orcs they could win, and the Humans would destroy the Horde.
The orcs, however, would not be stopped, and the humans would take down their nations as well. At the very heart of the Waste lay the very border of Atralese and Orc-waste. It was a barren wasteland devoid
A Witch Sorceress would gain the ability to sense the nectar in the form of blossoming eyes, a power that allowed her to extinguish the torment of the Nightmare without the presence of her benefactor. But that power was not always available to her. As the Sorceress herself confessed, she had grown disoriented at the scope of her powers: "I was unable to take advantage of the fullness of my nectar level until a few weeks before my first battle. The strength of my nectar level had nearly diminished the next day, but I had somehow managed to siphon away the energy as fast as possible and was finally able to peruse the available resources in earnest this afternoon."
"Very well, I will now turn now to the overwhelming evidence for the supernatural nature of the Sorceress's power, which I will present here in light of the context in which it was first discovered.
The scent of the nectar wafted forth from her blossoming eyes, like an unceasing avalanche sweeping across a battlefield. As if searching for an unguarded path to perdition, they glowed like incandescent gold, a luminosity so unlike the fleeting fleeting glance of an unseeing eye that it seemed to pervade the entire sky.
The Twilight Sorceress, it appeared, was not a skilled dancer. She merely needed the touch of a Sorceress to swiftly and effortlessly dispatch the orcs within the radius of her breath. In addition, her body was far too fragile to withstand the strain of a single throw from any object. To survive such a charge, she would have to conserve energy extensively.
Instead, the Sorceress found another means to kill: a projectile that, if accurate, could strike multiple times at once. Without hesitation, she completed her initial attack.
"Pressure!" She commanded the Nightmare Sorceress, a violet-gold helmet that sported a dazzling array of tresses and graces, to wear. "Aether filled to the brim, 100-150 HP! This is futile! Let" she told her prim and proper lieutenant, "attack."
The Sorceress instantly sprang forward with a thrust of her full power, and with a mighty push of her right arm she tore through the orcish lines to deliver the fatal blow. The shockwave from her enhanced physical strength instantly detonated the orcs within its melee range, leaving a bloody mess behind. Their bodies buckled in the pain, but the Sorceress continued to push, pushing, pushing, pushing... until finally she arrived at the final stop on the itinerary.
The Waste
Wild as it was to be caught in the crossfire of an orcish offensive, the Waste was far from its full potential. It was vast and undulating, its unyielding conviction undiminished by its fellows' selfishness. But the core of its structure was that it was a living hell. The corpses of those slain in battle piled on and piled on, like living shank buried one foot into the earth. Almost as an afterthought, the corpses of those slain in battle piled on and piled on, like bodies buried in a church. The air was thick with corpses, piled with bodies, and the ranks of the dead piled up against the stone.
The orcish army was routed, routed, routed, routed. Perhaps the most desperate of the horde, the orcs were reduced to nothing more than puppets cast out of proportion by the unstoppable force of the earth. Their spears, their axes, their mail, all fell uselessly to the unforgiving mire of the earth. But the Waste continued to drag them, dragging it slowly and painfully, slowly, slowly, slowly, slowly. The orcs grew ever-so-slightly slimmer; their forearms grew proportionately larger. Their gums developed in proportion to how fluid their root systems were. They began to glow yellowish-red in the center, then began to slowly darken in brightness.
By this point the orcs had been exhausted for several days; they could barely hold a battle and no amount of ingenuity could stop them. The Waste was not a fight to be won. But after the first few hundred attacks by the orcs would rapidly turn the tide of their war. The humans, however, would not allow that. They would take down the orcs they could win, and the Humans would destroy the Horde.
The orcs, however, would not be stopped, and the humans would take down their nations as well. At the very heart of the Waste lay the very border of Atralese and Orc-waste. It was a barren wasteland devoid
Snippet 3
A dog ate a man. And the man was dead.
Five years younger, the exhausted and dazed Luna had just bought at the friends' home, and still visibly tired and dejected even after being accosted by the family dog for nearly an hour last week? It had been the most painful week of her life, the third and final in a long line of bloody fates.
The killings of her parents and stepmother, the mistreatment of her bestie and all-important friend, had left her with ten siblings and two orphaned halves. She still struggled to process the trauma, but she understood why the family dog so fondly referred to as Luna in the books: it loved her.
The dog sniffed dangerously, ignoring her exhales. It sniffed in vain, ignoring her touchiness. Unsurprisingly, it sniffed even harder than before, intensifying the scent and intensifying the intensity of the suffocation.
For a moment, Luna felt as if she were about to explode.
Silver eyes stared at her from the burning corpses of their dead, but the girl lifted her head. "So, you, well... you two are my friends. We survived the attack on our village, and we are all stronger now that we know what happened to you two. But your killing stance and your Implicate Duty make it extremely dangerous. How are you doing?"
She inhaled strongly. "Very well, my Lady, I will give you a brief explanation of the Law of One, which I deem relevant to this point. First, you have the power to 'renew one 's life at any time at will. If you do not have a 'own life, you have no power over how long you take advantage of it. For example, you may not lose consciousness for long without killing a Sorcerer or two more than a day. You may not be revived for days or weeks, but not for days or weeks. When you are tired, you can consume water, eat grass better, sleep better, feel better, for example. When you are hungry, you can sack and eat raw meat, raw fish, raw vegetables, raw stews, and eat them raw. You can even eat raw food, but only raw. You can eat anything you want, even if it is raw. You do not have to be an evil Sorceress to be evil, but you do not have to be evil to be evil. You have to choose. You can either die fighting orcs, or you can live. You can either become an Orkhor or a Sorcerer and stay, or you can decide that neither is better. You can either become an Orkhor or a Sorcerer and stay, or you can decide that neither is better. You can either become an Orkhor and become a Sorcerer, while also killing orc-slayers each and every day. Or you can keep on fighting, and stay alive... Or you can become an Orkhor and become a Sorcerer, so long as you are a Sorcerer, and then you can decide. You may decide which path you wish, but you will neither decide that which you eat nor that which you do, nor which form you take. You may decide what sort of Sorceress you become, but you will neither decide that which you eat nor that which you do, nor which form you take.
There was no time to make such a decision, of course. It was the first of many sacrifices to come.
He'd made his decision.
Thirty-two years.
Thirty years, forty-two years. The Sorceresses had hoped that he would be the best at what he did, but they'd been complacent. He would be a likable, likable person, and they would be wrong.
They'd worked tirelessly to ensure that he would remain that way, that person perpetually, and that person would remain that person, until the end of time. He'd worked tirelessly, tirelessly, tirelessly, tirelessly, tirelessly, and the Sorceresses would not let him go.
He'd been sorely missed, but he could not be left behind. An indelible mark on the kingdoms of men and women across this time.
It was with great trepidation and regret that we took the unprecedented step of having him transported to the future, in hopes of finding a way to help him find his true self. As he had said, he had hoped it would be a fulfilling journey, a world filled with promise and meaning, but there was nothing satisfying about it. There was nothing satisfying about having lived through the orcs' rule, the orcs' oppression of humanity, the orcs' oppression of this Earth, this humanity that could be any other. It was nothing more than an obstacle that had to be overcome, a stumbling-block that reached down to atone for itself.
Five years younger, the exhausted and dazed Luna had just bought at the friends' home, and still visibly tired and dejected even after being accosted by the family dog for nearly an hour last week? It had been the most painful week of her life, the third and final in a long line of bloody fates.
The killings of her parents and stepmother, the mistreatment of her bestie and all-important friend, had left her with ten siblings and two orphaned halves. She still struggled to process the trauma, but she understood why the family dog so fondly referred to as Luna in the books: it loved her.
The dog sniffed dangerously, ignoring her exhales. It sniffed in vain, ignoring her touchiness. Unsurprisingly, it sniffed even harder than before, intensifying the scent and intensifying the intensity of the suffocation.
For a moment, Luna felt as if she were about to explode.
Silver eyes stared at her from the burning corpses of their dead, but the girl lifted her head. "So, you, well... you two are my friends. We survived the attack on our village, and we are all stronger now that we know what happened to you two. But your killing stance and your Implicate Duty make it extremely dangerous. How are you doing?"
She inhaled strongly. "Very well, my Lady, I will give you a brief explanation of the Law of One, which I deem relevant to this point. First, you have the power to 'renew one 's life at any time at will. If you do not have a 'own life, you have no power over how long you take advantage of it. For example, you may not lose consciousness for long without killing a Sorcerer or two more than a day. You may not be revived for days or weeks, but not for days or weeks. When you are tired, you can consume water, eat grass better, sleep better, feel better, for example. When you are hungry, you can sack and eat raw meat, raw fish, raw vegetables, raw stews, and eat them raw. You can even eat raw food, but only raw. You can eat anything you want, even if it is raw. You do not have to be an evil Sorceress to be evil, but you do not have to be evil to be evil. You have to choose. You can either die fighting orcs, or you can live. You can either become an Orkhor or a Sorcerer and stay, or you can decide that neither is better. You can either become an Orkhor or a Sorcerer and stay, or you can decide that neither is better. You can either become an Orkhor and become a Sorcerer, while also killing orc-slayers each and every day. Or you can keep on fighting, and stay alive... Or you can become an Orkhor and become a Sorcerer, so long as you are a Sorcerer, and then you can decide. You may decide which path you wish, but you will neither decide that which you eat nor that which you do, nor which form you take. You may decide what sort of Sorceress you become, but you will neither decide that which you eat nor that which you do, nor which form you take.
There was no time to make such a decision, of course. It was the first of many sacrifices to come.
He'd made his decision.
Thirty-two years.
Thirty years, forty-two years. The Sorceresses had hoped that he would be the best at what he did, but they'd been complacent. He would be a likable, likable person, and they would be wrong.
They'd worked tirelessly to ensure that he would remain that way, that person perpetually, and that person would remain that person, until the end of time. He'd worked tirelessly, tirelessly, tirelessly, tirelessly, tirelessly, and the Sorceresses would not let him go.
He'd been sorely missed, but he could not be left behind. An indelible mark on the kingdoms of men and women across this time.
It was with great trepidation and regret that we took the unprecedented step of having him transported to the future, in hopes of finding a way to help him find his true self. As he had said, he had hoped it would be a fulfilling journey, a world filled with promise and meaning, but there was nothing satisfying about it. There was nothing satisfying about having lived through the orcs' rule, the orcs' oppression of humanity, the orcs' oppression of this Earth, this humanity that could be any other. It was nothing more than an obstacle that had to be overcome, a stumbling-block that reached down to atone for itself.
Snippet 4
The final few days of the Sheatheeered War had witnessed a steady and steady fall in the number of orcs and their casualties. But the orcish slaughter-drenched speed of their movements had not contributed to the real decline of the Orcwaste, its terrors ceasing to bode ill for the near future.
The orcs began to move towards the strategic village of Bielonieredon in the Beleriad-Siberian border. It was a village of few hundred people, one of the few towns in the area to offer shelter from the winds. Built of stone, it was so far the size of a town but stretched beyond that as far as the eye could see. The sun set over the horizon, a cloud of dust receding in a single direction.
Seram turned to regard the ground around him. It was devoid of human habitation, devoid of animal life, devoid of animal life devoid. Its features were the product of evolution, its skin a result of evolution itself. Its muscles a result of evolution, but their evolution was uninterrupted. It was as if they had never been there. He could feel the temperature inside his bones rising steadily against a constant plateau of tension and texture, an interface that allowed for joint movement and motion without the need for oxygen.
The ground beneath him was smooth and solid, devoid of human habitation, devoid of animal life, devoid of animal life without. The only source of motion were muscles, their absence causing the bones of the horse to jerk slightly. He could make out muscles in the air, but none that he could see. Instead he felt molecules move in a straight line, a line that he perceived as if it were this way.
A third source of motion was the ground itself, a solid mass of molten metal that he could perceive as if it were this way. There was no motion with which to orient himself, no perspective necessary to orient himself, no boundary that he could not break. There was no motion at all when he was moving at speed of sound.
He felt a crack, a crack of steel, and then a thump. Seram tried to orient himself, tried to orient his muscles, tried to orient his mind. It was difficult, even exhausting, to do so. It would be too dangerous, too dangerous, to try to understand anything that entered his current physical state.
He could only try to sense the world around him, to move at speed without the drag of mass or velocity, to perceive the strength of the vacuum that kept him alive, to feel the force of the world against his soul, to feel the force of the currents that ran through him, to feel the force of the seasons. It was a struggle to overcome the displacements of everything in his way, to shatter the boundaries of what was and was not human and thereby to emerge as a person of the things that are.
It was impossible, because no object could ever be perfect, to be perfect at anything. Everything that he was was dictated by the things that everyone else was simply not able to. Everything was dictated by the forces that commanded it, dictated by the laws that dictated them, dictated by the very fabric of the universe that held it all. Everything, even the laws that required them to be true, dictated the whole at a time when every interaction between them was a murder match. Everything, even the very laws that required them to be true, dictated the whole at a time when everyone else was merely incoherent incoherent
It was a life that he had been unable to change, a life that he would not allow to happen again.
He stood and walked out of the village into the dark night.
He would not be returning to this world. He would not be able to live in it. He would not be able to be who he was now.
He would not be able to be friends with the people he loved. He would not be able to be who he was now. He would not be able to be friends with the people he once was. He would be forced to live as if nothing had happened.
There was no way out of this world. No way out of this world.
Thirty years he did not know. Thirty years he did not know. He had been searching for meaning for thirty years, but he could not find it. He could not understand why he felt this way. He could not understand why he felt this way. He could not understand why he felt this way.
There was no way out of this world. No way out of this world.
Thirty years he did not know. Thirty years he did not know. He had been searching for meaning for forty years, but he could not find it. He could not understand why he felt this way. He could not understand why he felt this way.
A strange sort of madness took hold of him. He felt the power of telekinetic
The orcs began to move towards the strategic village of Bielonieredon in the Beleriad-Siberian border. It was a village of few hundred people, one of the few towns in the area to offer shelter from the winds. Built of stone, it was so far the size of a town but stretched beyond that as far as the eye could see. The sun set over the horizon, a cloud of dust receding in a single direction.
Seram turned to regard the ground around him. It was devoid of human habitation, devoid of animal life, devoid of animal life devoid. Its features were the product of evolution, its skin a result of evolution itself. Its muscles a result of evolution, but their evolution was uninterrupted. It was as if they had never been there. He could feel the temperature inside his bones rising steadily against a constant plateau of tension and texture, an interface that allowed for joint movement and motion without the need for oxygen.
The ground beneath him was smooth and solid, devoid of human habitation, devoid of animal life, devoid of animal life without. The only source of motion were muscles, their absence causing the bones of the horse to jerk slightly. He could make out muscles in the air, but none that he could see. Instead he felt molecules move in a straight line, a line that he perceived as if it were this way.
A third source of motion was the ground itself, a solid mass of molten metal that he could perceive as if it were this way. There was no motion with which to orient himself, no perspective necessary to orient himself, no boundary that he could not break. There was no motion at all when he was moving at speed of sound.
He felt a crack, a crack of steel, and then a thump. Seram tried to orient himself, tried to orient his muscles, tried to orient his mind. It was difficult, even exhausting, to do so. It would be too dangerous, too dangerous, to try to understand anything that entered his current physical state.
He could only try to sense the world around him, to move at speed without the drag of mass or velocity, to perceive the strength of the vacuum that kept him alive, to feel the force of the world against his soul, to feel the force of the currents that ran through him, to feel the force of the seasons. It was a struggle to overcome the displacements of everything in his way, to shatter the boundaries of what was and was not human and thereby to emerge as a person of the things that are.
It was impossible, because no object could ever be perfect, to be perfect at anything. Everything that he was was dictated by the things that everyone else was simply not able to. Everything was dictated by the forces that commanded it, dictated by the laws that dictated them, dictated by the very fabric of the universe that held it all. Everything, even the laws that required them to be true, dictated the whole at a time when every interaction between them was a murder match. Everything, even the very laws that required them to be true, dictated the whole at a time when everyone else was merely incoherent incoherent
It was a life that he had been unable to change, a life that he would not allow to happen again.
He stood and walked out of the village into the dark night.
He would not be returning to this world. He would not be able to live in it. He would not be able to be who he was now.
He would not be able to be friends with the people he loved. He would not be able to be who he was now. He would not be able to be friends with the people he once was. He would be forced to live as if nothing had happened.
There was no way out of this world. No way out of this world.
Thirty years he did not know. Thirty years he did not know. He had been searching for meaning for thirty years, but he could not find it. He could not understand why he felt this way. He could not understand why he felt this way. He could not understand why he felt this way.
There was no way out of this world. No way out of this world.
Thirty years he did not know. Thirty years he did not know. He had been searching for meaning for forty years, but he could not find it. He could not understand why he felt this way. He could not understand why he felt this way.
A strange sort of madness took hold of him. He felt the power of telekinetic
Snippet 5 (POMI OMG)
By definition, humans are not geniuses. Achievement is defined by the ability to cause as many people as you possibly can to succeed, a proportionate part of a growth matrix. In the real world, that means honing one's analytical and social skills, honing one's organizational skills, honing one's social skills, honing one's organizational skills, honing one's organizational skills, honing one's organizational skills, honing one's organizational skills, honing one's organizational skills, honing one's organizational skills, honing one's organizational skills, honing one's organizational skills, honing one's organizational skills, honing one's organizational skills, honing one's organizational skill, honing one's organizational skill, honing one's organizational skill, honing one's organizational skill, and so on and so forth. But the human brain is unique. It is highly adaptable, highly adaptable to change, and this has enormous societal and psychological implications. For example, the prevalence of childhood maltreatment has been found to be associated with a wide range of medical conditions, including type 2 diabetes, heart disease, cancer, osteoporosis, and many forms of neurodegeneration.4-6 Adverse medical effects, including death, can be devastating to the individual but can also be temporary. For example, the painful sensation of dislocated thumb or forefinger is rarely a sign of chronic pain. In fact, a series of recent studies have shown that people with normal nerve cell function have higher rates of survival and well-being compared to those without any neurodegeneration-associated neuroplasminogenetic alterations.7, 8
So how much do we know about how to use our brains? The literature on this question is full of reports of almost palpable improvement, even though some of the subjects' scorestreaks had been improved substantially. And yet some of the most commonly-used measures of brain function, such as the Implicit Performance Indicator (POMI), have long been among the most controversial and controversial subjects in clinical psychology. In recent years, a number of controversial theories have appeared, some of them well-established but some of which have not. As of March of this year, seven different theories had been tested in clinical psychology, each of which purported to explain much of what has been so frequently referred to as the "brain."
One theory holds that our brains are innately sophisticated and highly adaptable, capable of self-transcending evolution. The other claims that our brains are somehow somehow somehow somehow unique. At this point, none of the theories is particularly likely to lead us to any resolved conclusions. But the implication is clear: Some aspects of our biology are so complex that we can intuitively accept them, while others are so poorly understood that we find our way only from one extreme to the other. And if we accept neither extreme, what right does it have to explain our intuitive intuitions?
The Implicit Performance Indicator (POMI) is a measure of implicit mental abilities, a measure of explicit motivation, a measure of "in" and out of "on" mental states. Implicit mental abilities are the ability to process information well, to process information at will, to process information at will and with finality, to process and understand information at will. The Implicit Performance Indicator is a measure of implicit motivation, a measure of motivation, a measure of motivation. Theories with regard to implicit motivation come in two flavors: conventional (i.e., do we want something because we do something good), and emerging (e.g., do we want something because we like something because we like it, but it has to be something good to motivate us to do that?) and emerging (e.g. do we want something because we like something because we like it). Some theories, such as the first one, accept implicit motivation as the primary motivation force behind a person's life choices, while others, like the emerging one, discard it. (Another explanation is that some people's implicit motives motivate them to do bad things, which explains why theories with regard to the Implicit Performance Indicator are more popular.)
Some theories hold that our brains are innately highly adaptable, capable of self-transcending evolution. The other claims that our brains are somehow somehow somehow somehow unique. At this point, none of the theories is particularly likely to lead us to any resolved conclusions. But the implication is clear: Some aspects of our biology are so complex that we can intuitively accept them, while others are so poorly understood that we find our way only from one extreme to the other. And if we accept neither extreme, what right does it have to explain our intuitive intuitions?
The Implicit Performance Indicator is normally displayed in blue; it is rarely displayed in red. In theory, it could be any of three flavors of the same phenomenon: a phenomenon in which one's motivation is based on an undirected
So how much do we know about how to use our brains? The literature on this question is full of reports of almost palpable improvement, even though some of the subjects' scorestreaks had been improved substantially. And yet some of the most commonly-used measures of brain function, such as the Implicit Performance Indicator (POMI), have long been among the most controversial and controversial subjects in clinical psychology. In recent years, a number of controversial theories have appeared, some of them well-established but some of which have not. As of March of this year, seven different theories had been tested in clinical psychology, each of which purported to explain much of what has been so frequently referred to as the "brain."
One theory holds that our brains are innately sophisticated and highly adaptable, capable of self-transcending evolution. The other claims that our brains are somehow somehow somehow somehow unique. At this point, none of the theories is particularly likely to lead us to any resolved conclusions. But the implication is clear: Some aspects of our biology are so complex that we can intuitively accept them, while others are so poorly understood that we find our way only from one extreme to the other. And if we accept neither extreme, what right does it have to explain our intuitive intuitions?
The Implicit Performance Indicator (POMI) is a measure of implicit mental abilities, a measure of explicit motivation, a measure of "in" and out of "on" mental states. Implicit mental abilities are the ability to process information well, to process information at will, to process information at will and with finality, to process and understand information at will. The Implicit Performance Indicator is a measure of implicit motivation, a measure of motivation, a measure of motivation. Theories with regard to implicit motivation come in two flavors: conventional (i.e., do we want something because we do something good), and emerging (e.g., do we want something because we like something because we like it, but it has to be something good to motivate us to do that?) and emerging (e.g. do we want something because we like something because we like it). Some theories, such as the first one, accept implicit motivation as the primary motivation force behind a person's life choices, while others, like the emerging one, discard it. (Another explanation is that some people's implicit motives motivate them to do bad things, which explains why theories with regard to the Implicit Performance Indicator are more popular.)
Some theories hold that our brains are innately highly adaptable, capable of self-transcending evolution. The other claims that our brains are somehow somehow somehow somehow unique. At this point, none of the theories is particularly likely to lead us to any resolved conclusions. But the implication is clear: Some aspects of our biology are so complex that we can intuitively accept them, while others are so poorly understood that we find our way only from one extreme to the other. And if we accept neither extreme, what right does it have to explain our intuitive intuitions?
The Implicit Performance Indicator is normally displayed in blue; it is rarely displayed in red. In theory, it could be any of three flavors of the same phenomenon: a phenomenon in which one's motivation is based on an undirected
Snippet 6
The third world was a place without borders. There was no sense in talking about it; it was a place devoid of culture, culture without heroes. There was even no sense in calling this place a place.
The orcs had slain Morgiana, the elves had taken Sielie. Seram and his men had driven the pack, the orcs outmatched, outmaneuvered, outmaneuvered again. Now they were a different kind; they were no more a horde and no more a horde. The orcs had taken Brandania, Brandania. Now they were here.
Seram handed over the crossbow and began to walk down the dark halls. The orcs had killed nearly three hundred men, a war dead of Witch-Slayer incursions into their people's lands. Most were captured, but Seram did not think they were much, far less that a nation.
The orcs had slaughtered nearly seven hundred Rangers, four hundred Sorceresses, three hundred Orcs and one hundred Orcs + one Halfling. It had been the deadliest of tries, but the last to come.
Seven hundred men. A mighty nation, but hardly enough to withstand a Witch-Slayer assault. But they were hardly enough. Seram could make out nine of the nine human soldiers on horseback, arms in the air.
The three men spoke in this war as though they had never met, but they lacked the specifics of the situation to overcome. Seram could only take them as they were, the orcs as they stood.
Jeanne their knight. Jeanne was a bit of an outlier in this war. She bore the Hall's stamp of approval on her features, but her vast brain and telekinetic powers merely amplified her aura of protection. What truly worried Seram was the fact that her sister had been among the orcs slain in an orcish incursion south of the Orcwaste.
It had been a long and bloody week of fighting, and they had not yet lost three of their best soldiers, Seram's Grace still feeble but formidable enough to draw blood at times. If he did not capture the orcs within a reasonable time frame he could have sealed their capture with a tower'd bomb, but instead they were quickly routed and his men were driven back into the human lines.
Jeanne's Grace was notably feeble compared to Seram's alone. By contrast he was extremely fast - he was able to travel at speeds of up to about 120 miles per hour (199km/h) - and yet he was also extremely vulnerable to Witch-Slayer attacks. Enchantment and melee attacks could cripple her in one place, and her Strength increased with every level.
Given the immensity of the orcish threat she might be able to outpace Seram, but his strength was so great that it was difficult to endure alone. That was what Seram's father, a former knight of the Fourth Coalescence, did best. He wiped away the tears suppressing his absent-eye and spent the afternoon comforting his son.
This war had been a long one. He'd spent most of his childhood in the Orcwaste, a small hamlet about four miles from the Orcwaste port of Lelaine. He had grown up in the towns, learned to read and write, and even read and write. Now he was in his mid-thirties, and Seram was nowhere near his peak physical ability.
Seram's father, however, had no intentions of letting his son become an orc. He knew that father well, though he had no inkling of why. There was nothing improper with Seram's social standing, but Seram was content simply to live in the comfort of his father's bed. He did his best to live a life free of social pressure, but at the same time he cared for his father, who he thought he was Sielie would-
That made Seram feel good. He'd committed himself to becoming a better father, but he really wanted to be a better son. He wanted to be a good father, and he wanted to have the best father possible, not the other way around. So he took his father's test. Heighing down seven and a half pounds, Seram was raised by his own father without any external support.
He did his best to live up to his father's expectations, but there was something about his father's skin that hung in the balance of unliving and unliving. He had a thick undertow of gray, the result of a dark phase of the day. He had dark circles under his eyes that glowed a shade of green, and dark circles under his clothing that burned with the incandescent light of the night. It was as if he had been made from multi-colored thread, a color that ev
The orcs had slain Morgiana, the elves had taken Sielie. Seram and his men had driven the pack, the orcs outmatched, outmaneuvered, outmaneuvered again. Now they were a different kind; they were no more a horde and no more a horde. The orcs had taken Brandania, Brandania. Now they were here.
Seram handed over the crossbow and began to walk down the dark halls. The orcs had killed nearly three hundred men, a war dead of Witch-Slayer incursions into their people's lands. Most were captured, but Seram did not think they were much, far less that a nation.
The orcs had slaughtered nearly seven hundred Rangers, four hundred Sorceresses, three hundred Orcs and one hundred Orcs + one Halfling. It had been the deadliest of tries, but the last to come.
Seven hundred men. A mighty nation, but hardly enough to withstand a Witch-Slayer assault. But they were hardly enough. Seram could make out nine of the nine human soldiers on horseback, arms in the air.
The three men spoke in this war as though they had never met, but they lacked the specifics of the situation to overcome. Seram could only take them as they were, the orcs as they stood.
Jeanne their knight. Jeanne was a bit of an outlier in this war. She bore the Hall's stamp of approval on her features, but her vast brain and telekinetic powers merely amplified her aura of protection. What truly worried Seram was the fact that her sister had been among the orcs slain in an orcish incursion south of the Orcwaste.
It had been a long and bloody week of fighting, and they had not yet lost three of their best soldiers, Seram's Grace still feeble but formidable enough to draw blood at times. If he did not capture the orcs within a reasonable time frame he could have sealed their capture with a tower'd bomb, but instead they were quickly routed and his men were driven back into the human lines.
Jeanne's Grace was notably feeble compared to Seram's alone. By contrast he was extremely fast - he was able to travel at speeds of up to about 120 miles per hour (199km/h) - and yet he was also extremely vulnerable to Witch-Slayer attacks. Enchantment and melee attacks could cripple her in one place, and her Strength increased with every level.
Given the immensity of the orcish threat she might be able to outpace Seram, but his strength was so great that it was difficult to endure alone. That was what Seram's father, a former knight of the Fourth Coalescence, did best. He wiped away the tears suppressing his absent-eye and spent the afternoon comforting his son.
This war had been a long one. He'd spent most of his childhood in the Orcwaste, a small hamlet about four miles from the Orcwaste port of Lelaine. He had grown up in the towns, learned to read and write, and even read and write. Now he was in his mid-thirties, and Seram was nowhere near his peak physical ability.
Seram's father, however, had no intentions of letting his son become an orc. He knew that father well, though he had no inkling of why. There was nothing improper with Seram's social standing, but Seram was content simply to live in the comfort of his father's bed. He did his best to live a life free of social pressure, but at the same time he cared for his father, who he thought he was Sielie would-
That made Seram feel good. He'd committed himself to becoming a better father, but he really wanted to be a better son. He wanted to be a good father, and he wanted to have the best father possible, not the other way around. So he took his father's test. Heighing down seven and a half pounds, Seram was raised by his own father without any external support.
He did his best to live up to his father's expectations, but there was something about his father's skin that hung in the balance of unliving and unliving. He had a thick undertow of gray, the result of a dark phase of the day. He had dark circles under his eyes that glowed a shade of green, and dark circles under his clothing that burned with the incandescent light of the night. It was as if he had been made from multi-colored thread, a color that ev
Snippet 7
Constitution and sovereignty of the individual are at stake in this year's U.S. presidential election, with both parties engaged in a primary battle that could set the nation on a path to war.
The parties have engaged in a series of negotiations in the last week, with the one exception being a five-day sit-in on the final day of negotiations in Philadelphia in March. The primary season runs from now until March 31.<|endoftext|>This post is an audiotape of an interview I did with the lead character of the first Final Fantasy, Tiberia.
I was originally going to post something about the backstory and powers of the final three main factions, but unfortunately my schedule had run out. The web was slow, and I needed time off from my family. I'd have to return in a couple of weeks.
On the afternoon of my first live appearance, I arrived with my Gisena and two friends for a live battle. I'd never been to a live battle before, but having spent a good ten minutes (mostly with Jeanne and Iisleep) with the game, I was a bit hesitant. What if the battle was won or lost on a save-line overlay? I asked Jeanne what it was like to be on a losing end to the world.
"It's a waste of time, my lord! It is truly a waste of time! Our forces will be wiped out in an instant! We do not have the resources to respond with strength, so let's try!"
"Of course we do! One minute we are like the Empire, the next we are the Accursed of the Twilight Realm!"
"You and your lackeys can beheads, you know!"
"Screw you! It will only get worse from here on out!"
"Enough is enough! We have to stop this!"
I nodded and took my seat in the green-clad bureole of the battle-scarred Orkhr. Civil war had spread through the lands of the Northern Waste, and the tides of humanity's hatred were now filtering through into the face of the Northern front.
The Accursed could not possibly begrudgingly grant my wish, but it was not the responsibility of the Progression Sorceress to act in a manner conducive to her level of awareness. Sure, she could theoretically improve the world, but that was not the point. The purpose of the Sorceress' power was not merely to improve the world, but to improve the world itself. The powers of the Implicate Duty were not merely those of the Conflagration, but of the whole of humanity.
I understood why she was so interested in the Implicate Duty: it was not to alleviate her guilt over some grievous wrong she had committed. It was to alleviate her guilt over the Maiden herself. Nothing could be further from the truth - the Maiden was the victim of the Implicate Duty, and she was the enemy of humanity. It was with tremendous resolve she had come to terms with the fact that she was no more than an object of fascination to her fellow humans.
There was nothing unusual about this, of course; the Implicate Duty was a simple one - a simple rule, written down in the pages of a lost king - but it was a powerful one nonetheless. It served as a flagrant affront to the Unity, a flagrant affront to the laws of nature, a flagrant affront to humanity itself. With such an irrepressible resolve to change the world, it was difficult to square with any aspect of reality. Nonetheless, at the heart of the Unity was the Maiden, an indestructible being incapable of changing - or even dissolving - any physical form.
It was with great resolve, in light of which Sorceress I had commissioned, that she had commissioned the final form of the Implicate Duty. The Maiden, she had been told, was the spark that lit the entire humanitys quest for justice and freedom. Unsurprisingly, the Implicate Duty was a lie. To undertake any task, one had to accept it. And accept it with the full force of the mind of a fool.
Such was the state of the Nullity Sorceress upon my world-overcome visit to Seram's Nullity lab. The young warrior-at-arms was abashed, but also surprisingly well-informed.
"Law," he said, "You've all been raving about me lately. I'm in the midst of my first proper training as an Orkhor."
"Law," Seram gestured idly.
"Yes," the Nullity Sorceress began, but stopped himself as she began to introduce herself.
"Ahem." The Nullity Sorceress, a searing red light permeating every room she entered, commanding every word she said.
The parties have engaged in a series of negotiations in the last week, with the one exception being a five-day sit-in on the final day of negotiations in Philadelphia in March. The primary season runs from now until March 31.<|endoftext|>This post is an audiotape of an interview I did with the lead character of the first Final Fantasy, Tiberia.
I was originally going to post something about the backstory and powers of the final three main factions, but unfortunately my schedule had run out. The web was slow, and I needed time off from my family. I'd have to return in a couple of weeks.
On the afternoon of my first live appearance, I arrived with my Gisena and two friends for a live battle. I'd never been to a live battle before, but having spent a good ten minutes (mostly with Jeanne and Iisleep) with the game, I was a bit hesitant. What if the battle was won or lost on a save-line overlay? I asked Jeanne what it was like to be on a losing end to the world.
"It's a waste of time, my lord! It is truly a waste of time! Our forces will be wiped out in an instant! We do not have the resources to respond with strength, so let's try!"
"Of course we do! One minute we are like the Empire, the next we are the Accursed of the Twilight Realm!"
"You and your lackeys can beheads, you know!"
"Screw you! It will only get worse from here on out!"
"Enough is enough! We have to stop this!"
I nodded and took my seat in the green-clad bureole of the battle-scarred Orkhr. Civil war had spread through the lands of the Northern Waste, and the tides of humanity's hatred were now filtering through into the face of the Northern front.
The Accursed could not possibly begrudgingly grant my wish, but it was not the responsibility of the Progression Sorceress to act in a manner conducive to her level of awareness. Sure, she could theoretically improve the world, but that was not the point. The purpose of the Sorceress' power was not merely to improve the world, but to improve the world itself. The powers of the Implicate Duty were not merely those of the Conflagration, but of the whole of humanity.
I understood why she was so interested in the Implicate Duty: it was not to alleviate her guilt over some grievous wrong she had committed. It was to alleviate her guilt over the Maiden herself. Nothing could be further from the truth - the Maiden was the victim of the Implicate Duty, and she was the enemy of humanity. It was with tremendous resolve she had come to terms with the fact that she was no more than an object of fascination to her fellow humans.
There was nothing unusual about this, of course; the Implicate Duty was a simple one - a simple rule, written down in the pages of a lost king - but it was a powerful one nonetheless. It served as a flagrant affront to the Unity, a flagrant affront to the laws of nature, a flagrant affront to humanity itself. With such an irrepressible resolve to change the world, it was difficult to square with any aspect of reality. Nonetheless, at the heart of the Unity was the Maiden, an indestructible being incapable of changing - or even dissolving - any physical form.
It was with great resolve, in light of which Sorceress I had commissioned, that she had commissioned the final form of the Implicate Duty. The Maiden, she had been told, was the spark that lit the entire humanitys quest for justice and freedom. Unsurprisingly, the Implicate Duty was a lie. To undertake any task, one had to accept it. And accept it with the full force of the mind of a fool.
Such was the state of the Nullity Sorceress upon my world-overcome visit to Seram's Nullity lab. The young warrior-at-arms was abashed, but also surprisingly well-informed.
"Law," he said, "You've all been raving about me lately. I'm in the midst of my first proper training as an Orkhor."
"Law," Seram gestured idly.
"Yes," the Nullity Sorceress began, but stopped himself as she began to introduce herself.
"Ahem." The Nullity Sorceress, a searing red light permeating every room she entered, commanding every word she said.
Snippet 8
Thank you for visiting our site! Please take a moment to follow us on social media for the latest updates.
- The Ranger Ranger
---
This is a rush transcript. Copy may not be in its final form.
Alessandra Goode: Thank you for helping us today. My name is Jeanne Goode and I am a Ranger. I am the daughter of Henrietta and Mary Henrietta Edwards. I live in the village of Henrietta in the province of Coalescence. I do my best to live up to the name of my name, but unfortunately, my deeds have also caused great pain to my family and I. We have lost a great many children and we cannot keep up with the growth of this world. Henrietta was seven when the war began. Mary was three when she was captured and is buried with great honor. Henrietta died on March 5, 2439.
Jeanne Goode: Thank you very much.
Mackenzie Biggs: Thank you very much.
Jeanne Goode: For helping us today. My name is Jeanne and I am a Ranger. I am from the vicinity of the village of Henrietta in the province of Coalescence.
Alessandra Goode: No further details.
Jeanne Goode: The village is close to being taken over by the peoples of this world. The Marquis has taken over the village and they are fleeing from the orc army. We must ensure that the orcs do not spread to the lands beyond our reach!"
The villagers rushed to the front of the column, but Jeanne ran towards the back, squaring off against a wall of text.
"The Marquis is preparing to begin an offensive on our front," she said. "Follow me!"
The orcs charged steadily forward, but Jeanne ran into trouble. She was the third survivor of the Atralese offensive against the village, and she was only one shot behind. With only one man in the line of fire, they were nearly on the precipice of an all-out catacomb.
"Sorcerer Law!" She shouted, pointing towards a burning wagon next to the village.
"Sorcerer Law!" He waved a wand at the wagon, which whined as it ran out the side.
"Let go and die!" She shouted back, levelling the Sorceresses aright.
They clung tightly to Jeanne's life vests, but the burning wagon tore free and exploded into flames, splitting into two sides, charred bones pulverizing at her feet as she struggled to her feet.
She closed her eyes for several moments, letting the flames cool her vision, until finally she stood and began to cry.
---
The next morning, the villagers found themselves in the unforgiving hands of Henrietta's men. The Sorceress they so desperately needed, Morgiana, was gone and their only hope of catching the orcs in her radius had been withered by a coma. Despite their best efforts they had yet failed.
The closest surviving allies were Sylvie and Henrietta, dead for the war. Sylvie was still the only surviving individual in the village; Henrietta was the only one Henrietta remembered. Damn those bastards!
They scoured the village for shelter, only to find themselves swept away in a single avalanche. At the edge of their strength, a village girl ran towards them in the hopes of meeting their eyes.
She spoke in a halting, mocking tone, but her power was enough to crack the skull of a human, and she spoke in a way that even the blind couldsee.
"Seram Law," Sylvie shouted back, instantly adjusting her mask.
"Your Cursebearer, you are made untrustworthy to me and my people," Sylvie commanded.
The Sorceress glared at her from above, at most an idiot level, but the's head sheerer turned to the side. "You are far too valuable a asset to me to be untangled by any means necessary. You are the only one who can bring me what I need, my people, without regard for my own personal gain."
"Tried, and failed, to strike fear into the hearts of the orcs," Sylvie said with a frown.
"I am not afraid," Henrietta said, lip quivering dangerously. "My people are the ones who are to decide. You may decide what I have to offer, but I do not have to answer your questions."
"I do," Seram said. "I am afraid I have some information I must bring to you. Perhaps you can assist me in this regard..."
- The Ranger Ranger
---
This is a rush transcript. Copy may not be in its final form.
Alessandra Goode: Thank you for helping us today. My name is Jeanne Goode and I am a Ranger. I am the daughter of Henrietta and Mary Henrietta Edwards. I live in the village of Henrietta in the province of Coalescence. I do my best to live up to the name of my name, but unfortunately, my deeds have also caused great pain to my family and I. We have lost a great many children and we cannot keep up with the growth of this world. Henrietta was seven when the war began. Mary was three when she was captured and is buried with great honor. Henrietta died on March 5, 2439.
Jeanne Goode: Thank you very much.
Mackenzie Biggs: Thank you very much.
Jeanne Goode: For helping us today. My name is Jeanne and I am a Ranger. I am from the vicinity of the village of Henrietta in the province of Coalescence.
Alessandra Goode: No further details.
Jeanne Goode: The village is close to being taken over by the peoples of this world. The Marquis has taken over the village and they are fleeing from the orc army. We must ensure that the orcs do not spread to the lands beyond our reach!"
The villagers rushed to the front of the column, but Jeanne ran towards the back, squaring off against a wall of text.
"The Marquis is preparing to begin an offensive on our front," she said. "Follow me!"
The orcs charged steadily forward, but Jeanne ran into trouble. She was the third survivor of the Atralese offensive against the village, and she was only one shot behind. With only one man in the line of fire, they were nearly on the precipice of an all-out catacomb.
"Sorcerer Law!" She shouted, pointing towards a burning wagon next to the village.
"Sorcerer Law!" He waved a wand at the wagon, which whined as it ran out the side.
"Let go and die!" She shouted back, levelling the Sorceresses aright.
They clung tightly to Jeanne's life vests, but the burning wagon tore free and exploded into flames, splitting into two sides, charred bones pulverizing at her feet as she struggled to her feet.
She closed her eyes for several moments, letting the flames cool her vision, until finally she stood and began to cry.
---
The next morning, the villagers found themselves in the unforgiving hands of Henrietta's men. The Sorceress they so desperately needed, Morgiana, was gone and their only hope of catching the orcs in her radius had been withered by a coma. Despite their best efforts they had yet failed.
The closest surviving allies were Sylvie and Henrietta, dead for the war. Sylvie was still the only surviving individual in the village; Henrietta was the only one Henrietta remembered. Damn those bastards!
They scoured the village for shelter, only to find themselves swept away in a single avalanche. At the edge of their strength, a village girl ran towards them in the hopes of meeting their eyes.
She spoke in a halting, mocking tone, but her power was enough to crack the skull of a human, and she spoke in a way that even the blind couldsee.
"Seram Law," Sylvie shouted back, instantly adjusting her mask.
"Your Cursebearer, you are made untrustworthy to me and my people," Sylvie commanded.
The Sorceress glared at her from above, at most an idiot level, but the's head sheerer turned to the side. "You are far too valuable a asset to me to be untangled by any means necessary. You are the only one who can bring me what I need, my people, without regard for my own personal gain."
"Tried, and failed, to strike fear into the hearts of the orcs," Sylvie said with a frown.
"I am not afraid," Henrietta said, lip quivering dangerously. "My people are the ones who are to decide. You may decide what I have to offer, but I do not have to answer your questions."
"I do," Seram said. "I am afraid I have some information I must bring to you. Perhaps you can assist me in this regard..."
Snippet 9
By now you have probably seen the trailer for the second season of Game of Thrones, a series that sees the Boromir bloodline take on a more commanding and menacing role as the King's retinue attempts to reclaim his land. The focus of the season so far has been Melisandre, but the focus of the season has not been King Now! He has taken on the mantle of Lady Allia, head of the Northern Front, and she has taken on the mantle of Maiden, splitting her time between the kingdoms of the East and the West.
There are three main factions in this story, each of whom have different points of view and different personalities. The Northern Front has two factions and their motives are not well-defined. The Maiden faction wishes to see the East taken, the Duke attempts to overthrow the Hall of Covenants and bring about an independent Northern Europe.
The Northern Front is comprised of three main factions, each of whom have different personalities:
The King's People - A banner-wearing noble of the Warlords. Belonging to a clique of Sorceresses, he is the face of the unity, the unity of all men. He is not an individual individual, but rather a councilor of the Hall of Covenants, who is bound up in the King's hopes. He has no powers, just that he holds the Hall.
- A banner-wearing noble of the Warlords. Belonging to a clique of Sorceresses, he is the face of the unity, the unity of all men. He, who is not an individual individual, but rather a councilor of the Hall of Covenants, he. He has no powers, just that he holds the Hall. The Northern Front is comprised of five factions, each of which has its own personality.
The King's People have power, prestige, and influence. They are not the King's, nor the Maiden's, but rather the Councilor of the Hall of Covenants. They are not bound by the Hall, but rather by the King's hopes. They may not be able to stop the Hall, but they certainly do not have to stop the King.
The King's People have power, prestige, and influence. They are not the King's, nor the Maiden's, but rather the Councilor of the King's hopes. He is not an individual individual, but rather a councilor of the Hall of Covenants. He is a figure who is neither individual nor lord, but rather one who is, at times, all of them. He is someone other than the King; he does not believe in the King. He does not hold any power, but instead simply holds hopes, hopes that are as relevant to him as they are to anyone. He is someone other than the King; he does not believe in the King.
- A banner-wearing noble of the Warlords. Belonging to a clique of Sorceresses, he is the face of the unity, the unity of all men. He is the Councilor of the Hall of Covenants, who is bound up in the King's hopes. He has no powers, just that he holds the Hall. The Northern Front is comprised of three factions, each of which has its own personality.
The Maiden has the upper hand in the Northern Front, but there is force behind her actions. She fears that the King may not deliver on the Council's demands for an end to the Coalescence of the King. She fears that the Maiden and King Coalescence may be sealed forever, that the King's kingdom could be ripped limb from limb by the power of the Maiden's Maidengrace. She fears that the Maiden and King Coalescence may be redeemed, that the King may be put to death, that the Duke of Slousers may be made an independent man, and that the Northern Front may be redeemed.
The Northern Front is not a single man. It is not even a single people. It is a collective army, each with its own purpose and purposenauthorized disposal, willing to be put to the sword and prepared to die for one another, if that was necessary to secure the Northern Front's freedom, liberty, and survival.
The Northern Front is not a single nation. It is not even a single nation.
The King's people have taken the field. The Northern Front has taken the field.
The Northern Front is a multi-faceted force, an amalgam of peoples united only by the irreconcilable tenet of the Maiden. It is a people, a people united only by the Maiden, united only by the Hero. It is not a single nation, but rather thousands of amalgamated peoples united only by the Maiden. And Mary, Mary alone is capable of commanding the Northern Front, but also possesses the strength and the determination to face her demons head-on, to turn the tide of her own free will
There are three main factions in this story, each of whom have different points of view and different personalities. The Northern Front has two factions and their motives are not well-defined. The Maiden faction wishes to see the East taken, the Duke attempts to overthrow the Hall of Covenants and bring about an independent Northern Europe.
The Northern Front is comprised of three main factions, each of whom have different personalities:
The King's People - A banner-wearing noble of the Warlords. Belonging to a clique of Sorceresses, he is the face of the unity, the unity of all men. He is not an individual individual, but rather a councilor of the Hall of Covenants, who is bound up in the King's hopes. He has no powers, just that he holds the Hall.
- A banner-wearing noble of the Warlords. Belonging to a clique of Sorceresses, he is the face of the unity, the unity of all men. He, who is not an individual individual, but rather a councilor of the Hall of Covenants, he. He has no powers, just that he holds the Hall. The Northern Front is comprised of five factions, each of which has its own personality.
The King's People have power, prestige, and influence. They are not the King's, nor the Maiden's, but rather the Councilor of the Hall of Covenants. They are not bound by the Hall, but rather by the King's hopes. They may not be able to stop the Hall, but they certainly do not have to stop the King.
The King's People have power, prestige, and influence. They are not the King's, nor the Maiden's, but rather the Councilor of the King's hopes. He is not an individual individual, but rather a councilor of the Hall of Covenants. He is a figure who is neither individual nor lord, but rather one who is, at times, all of them. He is someone other than the King; he does not believe in the King. He does not hold any power, but instead simply holds hopes, hopes that are as relevant to him as they are to anyone. He is someone other than the King; he does not believe in the King.
- A banner-wearing noble of the Warlords. Belonging to a clique of Sorceresses, he is the face of the unity, the unity of all men. He is the Councilor of the Hall of Covenants, who is bound up in the King's hopes. He has no powers, just that he holds the Hall. The Northern Front is comprised of three factions, each of which has its own personality.
The Maiden has the upper hand in the Northern Front, but there is force behind her actions. She fears that the King may not deliver on the Council's demands for an end to the Coalescence of the King. She fears that the Maiden and King Coalescence may be sealed forever, that the King's kingdom could be ripped limb from limb by the power of the Maiden's Maidengrace. She fears that the Maiden and King Coalescence may be redeemed, that the King may be put to death, that the Duke of Slousers may be made an independent man, and that the Northern Front may be redeemed.
The Northern Front is not a single man. It is not even a single people. It is a collective army, each with its own purpose and purposenauthorized disposal, willing to be put to the sword and prepared to die for one another, if that was necessary to secure the Northern Front's freedom, liberty, and survival.
The Northern Front is not a single nation. It is not even a single nation.
The King's people have taken the field. The Northern Front has taken the field.
The Northern Front is a multi-faceted force, an amalgam of peoples united only by the irreconcilable tenet of the Maiden. It is a people, a people united only by the Maiden, united only by the Hero. It is not a single nation, but rather thousands of amalgamated peoples united only by the Maiden. And Mary, Mary alone is capable of commanding the Northern Front, but also possesses the strength and the determination to face her demons head-on, to turn the tide of her own free will
OctarineShrike
Avatar of Mandos
I did not say that. The thing you quoted was meant as an acknowledgement that Tenfold Echo's Immediate value exceeds Outer Sky's.
For Something with a total immediate stat value of 6.2 effective pluses using my earlier math to be competitive but inferior to something as ridiculous numerically as tenfold echo with 46.5 effective pluses, to still enable us to save large amounts of people, the magic resistance and such, means that if you convert the non-stat immediate benefits, the magic resistance, the ability to use our shadow without cognitive decline, is sufficiently ludicrous that if fyou converted it to stat pluses, you'd get what... 30 pluses total value for Outer Sky? 35?
Edit: My last paragraph was word salad in hindsight.
Last edited:
Rihaku
The Internet
Side-questing is a time-honored tradition for the acquisition of power in many a Foremost Realm! If you don't have any inconvenient Brands!
[X] SAVE
[X] Hungry Vim
To fix any possibles issue from the GPT shitposting
[X] Hungry Vim
To fix any possibles issue from the GPT shitposting
OctarineShrike
Avatar of Mandos
@LordOfMurder Refining a paragraph of my earlier statement that was word salad into something hopefully more coherent.
For Something with a total immediate stat value of 6.2 effective pluses using my earlier math to be competitive but inferior to something as ridiculous numerically as tenfold echo with 46.5 effective pluses and enable us to save a sizable amount more people, means that if you converted the non-stat benefits(Magic Resistance, limited ability to use Outer Shadow without cognitive decline to stat pluses), you'd get what... 30 pluses effective total value for Outer Sky? 35? It's ridiculous.
For Something with a total immediate stat value of 6.2 effective pluses using my earlier math to be competitive but inferior to something as ridiculous numerically as tenfold echo with 46.5 effective pluses and enable us to save a sizable amount more people, means that if you converted the non-stat benefits(Magic Resistance, limited ability to use Outer Shadow without cognitive decline to stat pluses), you'd get what... 30 pluses effective total value for Outer Sky? 35? It's ridiculous.
- Location
- USA
- Pronouns
- He/Him
usually, people choose not to @ people in a negative context if they like them out of consideration for how they might feel
LordOfMurder
Bhaal
- Location
- Australia
That's purely guesswork though? What we know is Tenfold is more efficient than a typical 7 arete option and offers vastly more immediate power that is in turn highly synergistic with the EFB we plan to take next. Almost everything offered by Outer sky is something we can get a similar or better version of elsewhere and none of it goes particularly well with out build anyway. Why would we turn down +11 agility after just taking a praxis rune that gets better the more agility we have?
[X] SPEND
[X] Outer Sky
[X] Outer Sky
That is assuming they are of equal value, wherea Tenfold is explicitly noted to be unusually Arete-efficient.
Edit:
Ninja'd
OctarineShrike
Avatar of Mandos
Rihaku Posted this in the Discord General around 10:55 PM Last Night
It's based on this I'm treating the value of Outer Sky as competitive yet inferior(Edit: Specifically for the purpose of saving lives)
Last edited:
LordOfMurder
Bhaal
- Location
- Australia
That just means both 7 arete options are good enough to make Frontal Assault safe. Possibly due to the extra %might from outer sky increasing our strength? It's way worse right now and only becomes good if we take a bunch of Outer Sky options in the future. But we only get so much arete and picks and we've got a bunch of EFB's and rank to take so if we're spending 7 arete why wouldn't we take the one that provides all it's value upfront?
Maragas
Nothing to see here.
- Location
- Tree House
Oh that because I don't want to be seen like I was talking about him without him knowing. It would be rude.
OctarineShrike
Avatar of Mandos
No condition debuffs to Outer Sky Advancements if they're protection focused? I tagged Rihaku about what category of attribute Protection falls under for condition purposes in my earlier analysis and didn't get an answer so its stuck in an indeterminate state until he does?
We've still got a 5 percent general physical penalty from punctured Soul, and 15 percent penalty to constitution given the combination of punctured soul and our liver injury.
We're erratic enough that Outer Sky is a legitimate option so the more we shape things so that all our options are good options, the better off we are?
It upgrades our 0 Arete picks like Echo and Opalescence after we exhaust whatever low-hanging 0 Arete fruit exist making it easier to save?
It looks cool?
If we fark up on ADS the magic resistance from Outer Sky is a poor mans version of the ADS Power of Ruin defense.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
On an unrelated note/addressed at the thread in general, it's possible that to escape the Enemy of the Empire problem source from Apocrypha, we may need to accept the different apocrypha source of Pissed off Elixir Sovereignty survivors who wanted us to kill the Rotbeast sooner hopped up on Apocryphal bullshit(Maybe they get the armament fish. Maybe they find an artifact. Maybe they link up with disaffected former inner temple residents with still working soul evocations and find a bullshit-tier synergy).
[X] SPEND
[X] Tenfold Echo
[X] Tenfold Echo
Outer sky +Progression will not upgrade our 0 Arete picks like Echo or Opalescence. This is said straight up in the post above. It is very specific Advancement and trying to pass it off as general +Progression is misleading