- Location
- Peterborough, NH, USA
I'm not sure another Rank-spending thing being powered up is worth the cost of encouraging it's use. That's why I voted for Nightmare Flight over any of the other Sign buffs.
A Simple Transaction I
- Thread starter Rihaku
- Start date
- Original
I'm not sure another Rank-spending thing being powered up is worth the cost of encouraging it's use. That's why I voted for Nightmare Flight over any of the other Sign buffs.
OctarineShrike
Avatar of Mandos
I don't think Supreme Enclosure actually costs rank to cast. The cost is entirely what's agreed on with the Astral Denizen.
A Simple Transaction I Original
A quest about a simple transaction and the consequences that follow.
forums.sufficientvelocity.com
Here's some Astral Denizens from the last time we used the power and what they cost.
A Simple Transaction I Original
Vendetta Hunger frowned. Losing Verschlengorge was a possibility they’d only briefly accounted for, the Armament of all things considered more than capable of taking care of himself. Their lack of knowledge of the Lord Protector’s true capabilities was crippling them in this contest. Without...
forums.sufficientvelocity.com
Ooh yes, Elixir would be nice!
Another half-stage of Apocryphal mitigation here we come! Plus, it implies we got the Elixir Springs working in the Realm of Evening, and so probably got everyone a Surgecrafting element. Maybe even Verschlengorge too! xD Wouldn't that be a thought? An Armament with a Surgecrafting Element.
A wizard Armament.
That's probably something the Human Sphere hasn't seen before.
I can even imagine the process of how it happens; Hunger activates Grail Keeper, taking the Curse into himself. And then, of course, he looks for ways to mitigate the pain and afflictions he's suffering from. And so, he recreates the Kaguya, to rest in every night (or day) while he does further research. And this Elixir is not affected by having the Rotbeast draining it, so it's full power.
And so, as a result of looking for a way to mitigate his conditions -- or perhaps trying to find a way to avoid the "infertile and stuff" effects on the land itself -- he finds himself able to progress and ascend his Edeldross to an ontologically higher stage.
====================
'course, it's also possible to take a bunch of 7-Arete advancements. Like Pathway to Idyll, various Ring or Blade improvements, Pearlescence to get bighuge defensive benefits from having Opalescent Tower, and so on. ... Probably not, though. (Except pathway to Idyll; access to healing and super-rest for 9 hours a day, plus 9 hours a day of Curses being at 1/3rd strength? plus a safe harbor for everyone to camp in? yay!) EFBs are just more efficient inherently.
Rihaku
The Internet
If you want to benefit two companions at once, Upgraded Amazing Grace for Hyper Reactor + Grace of the Glaze + Elixir Grace should allow Gisena to directly induce a High Sorceress Ascension in Aeira, Adorie or Letrizia. She'd also be able to create Elixirs capable of a wide variety of medium-strength buffing effects, worth a few stat +s at Hunger's level.
Letrizia - Imperial or Devouring Sorceress
Aeira - Threnody or Guillotine Sorceress
Adorie - Winter Sorceress
Letrizia - Imperial or Devouring Sorceress
Aeira - Threnody or Guillotine Sorceress
Adorie - Winter Sorceress
Edginess befitting of YA protagonist
By that logic we should just abandon all of our companions, because bringing them along with us just puts them in danger. I don't think you genuinely believe what you are saying and instead just don't care about any of our companions beyond their mechanical benefits, you even said as such earlier in your post.
Sharkey spent a lesser wish to get us the mystery box so it likely is.
The thread wasn't willing to fuck over a random nation then, so i'm not sure why you think that has changed now.
But what if she breaks free from her programming?
In my line of work, if I see program misbehaving, I don't indulge it. We will put her down.
ImperatorV
The Laughing One
- Location
- The Voyaging Realm
[X] Amazing Grace
[X] Adorie
[X] Supreme Enclosure
Supreme Enclosure remains my favorite advancement we've actually taken in this quest so far, and I'd like to see more of it. Also a 30% discount on the services of Rank 10 beings is an immense amount of power. I won't mind if Aeira's Gacha Adventures wins the social vote, but I'm really disappointed that people are focusing on the one-dimensional Armor of Midnight and Nightmare Flight rather then the superbly versatile Supreme Enclosure.
Amazing Grace because some of the Grace combinations we could get are pretty ridiculous.
[X] Adorie
[X] Supreme Enclosure
Supreme Enclosure remains my favorite advancement we've actually taken in this quest so far, and I'd like to see more of it. Also a 30% discount on the services of Rank 10 beings is an immense amount of power. I won't mind if Aeira's Gacha Adventures wins the social vote, but I'm really disappointed that people are focusing on the one-dimensional Armor of Midnight and Nightmare Flight rather then the superbly versatile Supreme Enclosure.
Amazing Grace because some of the Grace combinations we could get are pretty ridiculous.
OctarineShrike
Avatar of Mandos
The Logistical advantages of Nightmare Flight are considerable. Also if we get Refinement of Place after that, there's a lot of room for Teleport Spamming space cutting combat.
I mean, issue is that Enclosure was just kinda useless so far, and I say this as someone who pushed hard for it. I'm very disappointed by its performance, while Armor of Midnight and Bastion both preformed vastly over my expectations. I really hope we make some real use out of Enclosure in the future, since it should have a lot of potential.
Omg this will fit perfectly with the Proletariat Praxis system.
Row row seize the means of production.
picks of production
Blorcyn
Canon quaquaversal
- Location
- United Kingdom
Gotta get that bonus till Monday, some more CYOA.
(2)
Vignette's vignette, 3 - 2340 words
**** *****
Four Risen, a vastly diminished Vampire, and two essence-blendered guardsmen were probably equal to ten men, and, ensconced within his cloak of Magenta coloured energy, Vignette was as fast as the wind. His limbs blurred as he ran, and his metal boots only touched the ground as lightly as air.
Still, it turned out the wind wasn't very fast. A furious gale might 'only' gust at fifty miles an hour. While much faster than any man on Earth ought to be able to run, in full plate, it was vastly slower than Mrs. Hill — the name Dr. Maudlin had given after her transformation.
He heaved himself rightward at the end of the alleyway, back onto the cobbled road, and sprinted in the direction he believed the Dullaghan had last been. Before he could reach his full speed again, a husky laugh tickled at his ear.
He couldn't so much as flinch before she slipped around him, and he hit her at full speed, without the brace or position to barge through.
Mrs. Hill didn't move. She caught his wrist by the gauntlet as he bounced off her.
"Now you've got me, Knight, what're you going to do with me?"
"I think you've got the wrong end of the stick."
"Don't condescend to me!"
Her hairy knuckles grew white where she held him trapped, the armour giving a worrying creak. Mrs Hill frowned, it was clear she had expected to crush his forearm to bloody fragments. Then she spun like a shotputter and threw him.
Vignette sailed into the air, clearing an obscene distance, the air screaming through his visor, until he started to come down at the edge of the low-town, beyond cobbles, where the grass and bare earth tracks described smaller, ramshackle buildings placed widely apart.
He fell slowly. The plate defied gravity too, it seemed, and he landed lightly on his toes with his colour in full effect.
The rise was behind him, and he ran towards it as fast as he could. The mist, fog now really, thickened as he emerged onto the low hill's peak like a diver coming up for air, the vapour swirling around his shoulders in whorls.
She would be seconds.
"Oi! You! Horseman, Gan Can! Caen!"
A whinny was all the answer he got, and all that he could expect, from a headless horseman. He heard its mount canter over the frost, the sound echoing strangely on itself.
It appeared from the mist on his left at the precise moment it could strike, but Three had proven its worth once again. A burst of astral energy from the corner of his eye had Vignette facing the right way.
The mount reared, kicking out at him, trying to trample him. But Vignette's arms were crossed and he would not be trampled. It spun, letting the horseman get him from the side.
It was dressed in tan period wear, with riding boots and a travelling cloak spilling from a body that ended at the torso. From Vignette's perspective, not a part of the neck was visible, except one small sliver of white clavicle that protruded from the skin into the air in an open fracture.
It swung at him with a sword, the blade edge enamel white. Where it struck him the armour rang, and a sliver of metal chipped free.
Vignette looked at his gauntlet, eyes wide. It was scored, the blade cutting a quarter of an inch deep. Even in that brief moment of surprise, the armour's wound began to shrink.
The horseman found its striking position again and then began a dance of strikes. It was faster than Vignette, but it looked to hit the neck with each blow, and he was able to turn and twist and stretch to keep his arms in the way of each slash and strike. Splinters of metal stripped free each time. And the pace increased, the slashes faster, and faster…
The horseman got through. A stab slipped between Vignette's forearms and struck him on the midline of his neck. He choked, more from habit than injury, but it broke his rhythm and the Horseman picked his strikes now, catching the same place on the neck three times in a fraction of a second, cutting deeper towards flesh, half an inch, then three quarters.
"Found you."
Mrs. Hill flew from the mist like a leopard pouncing. She caught him in a clinch and took him to the ground, straddling his shoulders with her feet. She squatted grotesquely, the proportions of her all wrong, her trunk too long—hunched like a praying mantis. Then her meaty fists tried to bash his brains out.
The Horseman saved him from her efforts, as she had from theirs. His bone-white sword pierced her through the back, coming out her middle, slick with gore.
He flicked her off his sword with an easy gesture. A flourish, all the worse for his silence, but she didn't stay down.
When she hit the ground she rolled before leaping up. The laceration on her chest was bubbling. Flesh jumping into place in patchy, scaly tumours that melted into flesh of similar appearance to the rest of her in the space of heartbeats.
"Dullaghan," she said.
It raised a sword in salute, back straight. Lack of a head aside, it was the picture of a gentleman highway man.
Then they launched themselves at one another and the speed of it was hard to follow. Vignette saw Mrs. Hill's first blow, a heavy sledgehammer-like haymaker to the head of the horse which didn't put it down, but then the sword was striking and she was being struck with no thought for defence.
It was a dilemma. Both seemed to want to kill him, one constitutionally and the other more personally, and he seemed not to have any method of contesting either one.
The Jekyll and Hyde implication of Maudlin's transformation was not lost on him, but the similarity was no guarantee that Maudlin would return to her normal self in any reasonable time frame. Had that not been the point of the original novel, brief transformations becoming involuntary and then permanent?
He would have to help her. Killing the Horseman would put him at a level where he might be able to evade her, until she was herself again. Or he could put her down.
Her arm flew off and landed on the grass next to him, quickly melting into putrefying fat, and sinew. It seemed that she would need a hand, in any case.
He lunged at the horse's neck, one gauntlet clawing at its scabbed neck, and the other protecting his head from any stray attentions from the Horseman.
Pulling at the essence was difficult, like trying to pick up a grain of sand with his fingers. After a few moments, it grew easier, less fiddly, less difficult to grasp. The horse was supernatural, however, and it seemed like drinking a gallon of hot tea through a straw. Vignette was thirsty though, and his stomach seemed to have no limit.
The Horseman noticed. Its blade drunk the moonlight, became brilliant and solid and its sword now cut the air with its passage, arcs of white and blinding severance slicing at both Mrs. Hill and himself. He held onto the horse, the armour accruing rents whenever Mrs. Hill couldn't hold on to the undead's malice. Under him, the earth tore open in great gouges, like a dehisced wound.
It took less than a minute but it felt much longer. Blows battered at him but he held strong until it was, suddenly, done. His heart beat stronger, the stolen essence bolstering Vignette's fortitude and, with a shrill cry, the horse collapsed, and the horseman fell from the saddle.
Wounded, he was no less dangerous but Mrs. Hill was not one to waste an opportunity. She threw lightning-fast punches at where it lay, and her blows cracked like thunder. With a brief struggle she pried the blade from its grasp and threw it into the loam, where it sunk to its crossguard.
Vignette dashed backwards, a puff of astral energy warning him of the Horseman's deceit. A block to cover its chest turned into a gouge and he tore out Mrs. Hill's eyes, using the reprieve to dance up and rush for his sword.
Vignette took it by the pommel as the Horseman took it by the hilt. And then he held on for dear life while Mrs. Hill took the majority of its attention on the other side. This close, the air from their slaps, kicks, and elbows buffeted him like a kite in a hurricane, but his grip was firm, and he did not let the Horseman wield the sword.
Otherwise, he was useless, for all his new strength.
But he remembered the turning point that had let him survive the vampire. He remembered the power that seemed most useless to him once he had had any time to grow. He tossed the dice.
With his teeth, and the slightest ability with Metal that he could muster, Vignette unbuckled his gauntlet and threw it to the ground exposing his forearm to the air.
Before he could second guess himself, he slid his wrist through the blade, and his hand fell to the ground. It hurt, a little. Enough that he would know what had happened if he had his eyes closed, but little more. A product of his half-Risen state.
He directed his most potent weapon at the Headless Horseman and Mrs. Hill both. He soaked them in radiant arterial spray, glittering like sunlight through waterfall.
Then he pulled. It was not a matter of minutes this time. He placed his stump against the dazed Horseman and scooped out its fundamental essence all the quicker. Stronger than his horse, he was no match for Vignette's vampiric colour. The Horseman collapsed into dust.
With his left hand he pulled the white blade from the ground, swinging it to point at Mrs. Hill. His aura was bursting in fireworks, too energetic to hold its smoky form. "Luminous beings we are," Vignette whispered.
Louder, he spoke again. "Don't."
She didn't step forward, but reached down and picked up his severed hand. There was a deep cunning in her eyes, and her grin. Low in her throat she started to laugh, then shudder, then shake. Steam rose from her body and tumorous growths swelled and burst on her skin, before suddenly she shrunk like a balloon, and fell to the floor.
Seconds later, Maudlin was there again. Her eyes fluttered weakly, her raven hair loose and fanned out behind her, across the frosty grass.
She was still; lay unmoving.
"You're selling, but I'm not buying it, Hill."
Her eyes opened, still a brilliant gold. Vignette drew on his blood, the grass around him died, and Mrs. Hill's essence drained from her in a torrent. He was still not skilled enough in colour magic to tell the difference between essences, but he felt the change: from one type of quintessence to another, like a taut rubber band snapping loose. He stopped, and her eyes were blue again.
She was stood quickly, her breath forming clouds. In one movement her hair was tied into a tight ponytail, and she looked around her at the scene. She inspected Vignette's hand in her grasp; threw it to him. With the sword in his left, he had no way to catch it.
"Well done."
"Your alter ego played a part."
"I hope she wasn't too friendly with you."
"No, I wouldn't describe it as friendly."
He stuck the sword into the ground again and retrieved his hand, carefully placing it into the gauntlet, then securing the gauntlet in place again. His mastery of his colour was sufficient that he could quell the bleeding, leaving only the slightest ooze. Hopefully the circulating Magenta could repair his arm, and if not he could use One in half a day.
Maudlin was looking back towards the town. Her feet were bare, her boots in ruin, scattered in patches across the battleground.
"You shall have to carry me."
Vignette rolled his eyes, but offered his back. She climbed up, and then he fled back to the shadow of the town, sword held carefully in his off-hand.
"White jade," Maudlin shouted, over the wind. Vignette grunted. "The sword. Look at the design, at the top, the glyph of Rising."
"That sounds important."
"You're holding a sword of Fell Fen. A Nightbearer's sword, though I can't tell which while you bounce me like a bushel of apples."
Vignette sped up and made sure his strides were more bounding, leaping from step to step.
"Spooky," he said.
"Yes," she chattered. "I can think of no good circumstance in which a Gan Ceann should have come into possession of this sword, and what it must mean for the guards of Nightbringer's Mausoleum."
Vignette ran in silence after that, and Maudlin did not speak again, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck until they arrived at her carriage. The coachman was dead, as were the final two guardsmen. Maudlin didn't spare them a thought, taking her smallest case, she climbed into the back and dropped heavy curtains over the window. Quickly, Vignette used the sword to destroy their brains and hearts.
"Load up the cases, then drive us to the gate. They will open for us now the Dullaghan is dead, I'm sure."
Vignette looked at the horses. One's red eye swivelled to look at him. Gingerly he touched its flank, it was completely cool. Risen horses? It was the only explanation for their continuing movement while the miasma lingered – thin now, it had not entirely vanished at the death of the Horseman.
"I don't know how to drive a coach."
"Whip them to go. Whip them to turn. Whip them to stop. Nothing could be simpler, doctor."
Vignette stepped closer. Both horses screamed, making him freeze.
"Fuck's sake," he muttered. He climbed up to the box, and, over the chilling and continuous protestations of the dead horses, took them to the gates. With the miasma passing, the gates opened slowly, creaking and scraping over the stone. On the other side, there was not a soul in sight.
They entered Risinghurst.
**** ****
4
**** ****
Build:
8 Copper, 3 + 2 platinum, 1 Jade
[ ] Hunted - +2 Platinum
[ ] Resilient [2 Copper]
[ ] Violet [2 Copper]
[ ] One [1 Copper]
[ ] Three [3 copper]
[ ] Seven [1 platinum]
[ ] Sigil [1 platinum]
[ ] Step Up [1 platinum]
[ ] Plate [2 platinum]
[ ] Red [1 Jade]
(2)
Vignette's vignette, 3 - 2340 words
**** *****
Four Risen, a vastly diminished Vampire, and two essence-blendered guardsmen were probably equal to ten men, and, ensconced within his cloak of Magenta coloured energy, Vignette was as fast as the wind. His limbs blurred as he ran, and his metal boots only touched the ground as lightly as air.
Still, it turned out the wind wasn't very fast. A furious gale might 'only' gust at fifty miles an hour. While much faster than any man on Earth ought to be able to run, in full plate, it was vastly slower than Mrs. Hill — the name Dr. Maudlin had given after her transformation.
He heaved himself rightward at the end of the alleyway, back onto the cobbled road, and sprinted in the direction he believed the Dullaghan had last been. Before he could reach his full speed again, a husky laugh tickled at his ear.
He couldn't so much as flinch before she slipped around him, and he hit her at full speed, without the brace or position to barge through.
Mrs. Hill didn't move. She caught his wrist by the gauntlet as he bounced off her.
"Now you've got me, Knight, what're you going to do with me?"
"I think you've got the wrong end of the stick."
"Don't condescend to me!"
Her hairy knuckles grew white where she held him trapped, the armour giving a worrying creak. Mrs Hill frowned, it was clear she had expected to crush his forearm to bloody fragments. Then she spun like a shotputter and threw him.
Vignette sailed into the air, clearing an obscene distance, the air screaming through his visor, until he started to come down at the edge of the low-town, beyond cobbles, where the grass and bare earth tracks described smaller, ramshackle buildings placed widely apart.
He fell slowly. The plate defied gravity too, it seemed, and he landed lightly on his toes with his colour in full effect.
The rise was behind him, and he ran towards it as fast as he could. The mist, fog now really, thickened as he emerged onto the low hill's peak like a diver coming up for air, the vapour swirling around his shoulders in whorls.
She would be seconds.
"Oi! You! Horseman, Gan Can! Caen!"
A whinny was all the answer he got, and all that he could expect, from a headless horseman. He heard its mount canter over the frost, the sound echoing strangely on itself.
It appeared from the mist on his left at the precise moment it could strike, but Three had proven its worth once again. A burst of astral energy from the corner of his eye had Vignette facing the right way.
The mount reared, kicking out at him, trying to trample him. But Vignette's arms were crossed and he would not be trampled. It spun, letting the horseman get him from the side.
It was dressed in tan period wear, with riding boots and a travelling cloak spilling from a body that ended at the torso. From Vignette's perspective, not a part of the neck was visible, except one small sliver of white clavicle that protruded from the skin into the air in an open fracture.
It swung at him with a sword, the blade edge enamel white. Where it struck him the armour rang, and a sliver of metal chipped free.
Vignette looked at his gauntlet, eyes wide. It was scored, the blade cutting a quarter of an inch deep. Even in that brief moment of surprise, the armour's wound began to shrink.
The horseman found its striking position again and then began a dance of strikes. It was faster than Vignette, but it looked to hit the neck with each blow, and he was able to turn and twist and stretch to keep his arms in the way of each slash and strike. Splinters of metal stripped free each time. And the pace increased, the slashes faster, and faster…
The horseman got through. A stab slipped between Vignette's forearms and struck him on the midline of his neck. He choked, more from habit than injury, but it broke his rhythm and the Horseman picked his strikes now, catching the same place on the neck three times in a fraction of a second, cutting deeper towards flesh, half an inch, then three quarters.
"Found you."
Mrs. Hill flew from the mist like a leopard pouncing. She caught him in a clinch and took him to the ground, straddling his shoulders with her feet. She squatted grotesquely, the proportions of her all wrong, her trunk too long—hunched like a praying mantis. Then her meaty fists tried to bash his brains out.
The Horseman saved him from her efforts, as she had from theirs. His bone-white sword pierced her through the back, coming out her middle, slick with gore.
He flicked her off his sword with an easy gesture. A flourish, all the worse for his silence, but she didn't stay down.
When she hit the ground she rolled before leaping up. The laceration on her chest was bubbling. Flesh jumping into place in patchy, scaly tumours that melted into flesh of similar appearance to the rest of her in the space of heartbeats.
"Dullaghan," she said.
It raised a sword in salute, back straight. Lack of a head aside, it was the picture of a gentleman highway man.
Then they launched themselves at one another and the speed of it was hard to follow. Vignette saw Mrs. Hill's first blow, a heavy sledgehammer-like haymaker to the head of the horse which didn't put it down, but then the sword was striking and she was being struck with no thought for defence.
It was a dilemma. Both seemed to want to kill him, one constitutionally and the other more personally, and he seemed not to have any method of contesting either one.
The Jekyll and Hyde implication of Maudlin's transformation was not lost on him, but the similarity was no guarantee that Maudlin would return to her normal self in any reasonable time frame. Had that not been the point of the original novel, brief transformations becoming involuntary and then permanent?
He would have to help her. Killing the Horseman would put him at a level where he might be able to evade her, until she was herself again. Or he could put her down.
Her arm flew off and landed on the grass next to him, quickly melting into putrefying fat, and sinew. It seemed that she would need a hand, in any case.
He lunged at the horse's neck, one gauntlet clawing at its scabbed neck, and the other protecting his head from any stray attentions from the Horseman.
Pulling at the essence was difficult, like trying to pick up a grain of sand with his fingers. After a few moments, it grew easier, less fiddly, less difficult to grasp. The horse was supernatural, however, and it seemed like drinking a gallon of hot tea through a straw. Vignette was thirsty though, and his stomach seemed to have no limit.
The Horseman noticed. Its blade drunk the moonlight, became brilliant and solid and its sword now cut the air with its passage, arcs of white and blinding severance slicing at both Mrs. Hill and himself. He held onto the horse, the armour accruing rents whenever Mrs. Hill couldn't hold on to the undead's malice. Under him, the earth tore open in great gouges, like a dehisced wound.
It took less than a minute but it felt much longer. Blows battered at him but he held strong until it was, suddenly, done. His heart beat stronger, the stolen essence bolstering Vignette's fortitude and, with a shrill cry, the horse collapsed, and the horseman fell from the saddle.
Wounded, he was no less dangerous but Mrs. Hill was not one to waste an opportunity. She threw lightning-fast punches at where it lay, and her blows cracked like thunder. With a brief struggle she pried the blade from its grasp and threw it into the loam, where it sunk to its crossguard.
Vignette dashed backwards, a puff of astral energy warning him of the Horseman's deceit. A block to cover its chest turned into a gouge and he tore out Mrs. Hill's eyes, using the reprieve to dance up and rush for his sword.
Vignette took it by the pommel as the Horseman took it by the hilt. And then he held on for dear life while Mrs. Hill took the majority of its attention on the other side. This close, the air from their slaps, kicks, and elbows buffeted him like a kite in a hurricane, but his grip was firm, and he did not let the Horseman wield the sword.
Otherwise, he was useless, for all his new strength.
But he remembered the turning point that had let him survive the vampire. He remembered the power that seemed most useless to him once he had had any time to grow. He tossed the dice.
With his teeth, and the slightest ability with Metal that he could muster, Vignette unbuckled his gauntlet and threw it to the ground exposing his forearm to the air.
Before he could second guess himself, he slid his wrist through the blade, and his hand fell to the ground. It hurt, a little. Enough that he would know what had happened if he had his eyes closed, but little more. A product of his half-Risen state.
He directed his most potent weapon at the Headless Horseman and Mrs. Hill both. He soaked them in radiant arterial spray, glittering like sunlight through waterfall.
Then he pulled. It was not a matter of minutes this time. He placed his stump against the dazed Horseman and scooped out its fundamental essence all the quicker. Stronger than his horse, he was no match for Vignette's vampiric colour. The Horseman collapsed into dust.
With his left hand he pulled the white blade from the ground, swinging it to point at Mrs. Hill. His aura was bursting in fireworks, too energetic to hold its smoky form. "Luminous beings we are," Vignette whispered.
Louder, he spoke again. "Don't."
She didn't step forward, but reached down and picked up his severed hand. There was a deep cunning in her eyes, and her grin. Low in her throat she started to laugh, then shudder, then shake. Steam rose from her body and tumorous growths swelled and burst on her skin, before suddenly she shrunk like a balloon, and fell to the floor.
Seconds later, Maudlin was there again. Her eyes fluttered weakly, her raven hair loose and fanned out behind her, across the frosty grass.
She was still; lay unmoving.
"You're selling, but I'm not buying it, Hill."
Her eyes opened, still a brilliant gold. Vignette drew on his blood, the grass around him died, and Mrs. Hill's essence drained from her in a torrent. He was still not skilled enough in colour magic to tell the difference between essences, but he felt the change: from one type of quintessence to another, like a taut rubber band snapping loose. He stopped, and her eyes were blue again.
She was stood quickly, her breath forming clouds. In one movement her hair was tied into a tight ponytail, and she looked around her at the scene. She inspected Vignette's hand in her grasp; threw it to him. With the sword in his left, he had no way to catch it.
"Well done."
"Your alter ego played a part."
"I hope she wasn't too friendly with you."
"No, I wouldn't describe it as friendly."
He stuck the sword into the ground again and retrieved his hand, carefully placing it into the gauntlet, then securing the gauntlet in place again. His mastery of his colour was sufficient that he could quell the bleeding, leaving only the slightest ooze. Hopefully the circulating Magenta could repair his arm, and if not he could use One in half a day.
Maudlin was looking back towards the town. Her feet were bare, her boots in ruin, scattered in patches across the battleground.
"You shall have to carry me."
Vignette rolled his eyes, but offered his back. She climbed up, and then he fled back to the shadow of the town, sword held carefully in his off-hand.
"White jade," Maudlin shouted, over the wind. Vignette grunted. "The sword. Look at the design, at the top, the glyph of Rising."
"That sounds important."
"You're holding a sword of Fell Fen. A Nightbearer's sword, though I can't tell which while you bounce me like a bushel of apples."
Vignette sped up and made sure his strides were more bounding, leaping from step to step.
"Spooky," he said.
"Yes," she chattered. "I can think of no good circumstance in which a Gan Ceann should have come into possession of this sword, and what it must mean for the guards of Nightbringer's Mausoleum."
Vignette ran in silence after that, and Maudlin did not speak again, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck until they arrived at her carriage. The coachman was dead, as were the final two guardsmen. Maudlin didn't spare them a thought, taking her smallest case, she climbed into the back and dropped heavy curtains over the window. Quickly, Vignette used the sword to destroy their brains and hearts.
"Load up the cases, then drive us to the gate. They will open for us now the Dullaghan is dead, I'm sure."
Vignette looked at the horses. One's red eye swivelled to look at him. Gingerly he touched its flank, it was completely cool. Risen horses? It was the only explanation for their continuing movement while the miasma lingered – thin now, it had not entirely vanished at the death of the Horseman.
"I don't know how to drive a coach."
"Whip them to go. Whip them to turn. Whip them to stop. Nothing could be simpler, doctor."
Vignette stepped closer. Both horses screamed, making him freeze.
"Fuck's sake," he muttered. He climbed up to the box, and, over the chilling and continuous protestations of the dead horses, took them to the gates. With the miasma passing, the gates opened slowly, creaking and scraping over the stone. On the other side, there was not a soul in sight.
They entered Risinghurst.
**** ****
4
**** ****
Build:
8 Copper, 3 + 2 platinum, 1 Jade
[ ] Hunted - +2 Platinum
[ ] Resilient [2 Copper]
[ ] Violet [2 Copper]
[ ] One [1 Copper]
[ ] Three [3 copper]
[ ] Seven [1 platinum]
[ ] Sigil [1 platinum]
[ ] Step Up [1 platinum]
[ ] Plate [2 platinum]
[ ] Red [1 Jade]
Last edited:
[X] Always Forward
[X] Plowshares to Swords
[X] Nightmare Flight
Changing my vote a bit, to add in Nightmare Flight. As I want to be able to bring the whole party along. Though, I wouldn't be upset if Armor of Midnight loses, not at all.
Especially if we end up getting SJUC and find out that we can carry extras in our Shroud -- or end up repairing Versch enough that he can project his Shroud again, and so find that we can carry everyone if they stick in Versch's Shroud. It would suck if we upgraded Nightmare Flight for the purpose of full party travel, only to find out that we had an awkward way around that.
Then again, Nightmare Flight is also good for being able to teleport around a battlefield for a few seconds. So hey. (Being able to cast Armor of Midnight and not needing to worry about it is nice though.)
Fisher King just doubles the proc rate and mitigation duration of Huntress Moon. "*Double the proc rate and mitigation effect of Huntress' Moon against fish-based targets" ... I'd have to check what "proc rate" refers to... if it's the same thing as variety and likelihood of seeing a target pop up, then... that means some amount of stacking with Artemisinin -- or at least, working in parallel.
Fisher King would give us more fish targets.
While Artemisinin would provide us with more variable targets.
... Yeah. I think that's going to happen is... We're going to be presented with 3+ A Hunter Sated targets. 2+ of them will be Artemisinin targets, and thus fall under the "more palatable" category, but instead 'merely' give 60 days of mitigation; 1+ will be a fish, and thus fall under Fisher King's "double duration (and also stats for fishing)" condition, thus giving 90 or 120 days of mitigation.
So we'll have to choose between something that is a palatable pick but 'only' gives 60 days. And something that gives 90 or 120 (it depends on how Fisher King and Artemisinin effects of "double duration" stack or combine! it's either "+30 days and then +30 days again", or it's "double 30 to 60; then double 60 to 120") days of mitigation. However, the fish may give rank or picks or whatever... ... on the other hand, said fish might be a 3-pick or 4-pick fight, so who knows. (On the other hand, that might get people to want to choose it even more.)
Hm. I think the next thing we'd want, is a faster way to find Decimator's targets. An improved Decimator's Lens, basically. Or maybe our target-finding will be fast enough anyway, who knows...
[X] Plowshares to Swords
[X] Nightmare Flight
Changing my vote a bit, to add in Nightmare Flight. As I want to be able to bring the whole party along. Though, I wouldn't be upset if Armor of Midnight loses, not at all.
Especially if we end up getting SJUC and find out that we can carry extras in our Shroud -- or end up repairing Versch enough that he can project his Shroud again, and so find that we can carry everyone if they stick in Versch's Shroud. It would suck if we upgraded Nightmare Flight for the purpose of full party travel, only to find out that we had an awkward way around that.
Then again, Nightmare Flight is also good for being able to teleport around a battlefield for a few seconds. So hey. (Being able to cast Armor of Midnight and not needing to worry about it is nice though.)
Fortunately, Artemisinin made it a lot easier to grab acceptable targets for the Decimator's Affliction.
"Hunger will automatically choose from the most palatable options rather than listing them all"
Fisher King just doubles the proc rate and mitigation duration of Huntress Moon. "*Double the proc rate and mitigation effect of Huntress' Moon against fish-based targets" ... I'd have to check what "proc rate" refers to... if it's the same thing as variety and likelihood of seeing a target pop up, then... that means some amount of stacking with Artemisinin -- or at least, working in parallel.
Fisher King would give us more fish targets.
While Artemisinin would provide us with more variable targets.
... Yeah. I think that's going to happen is... We're going to be presented with 3+ A Hunter Sated targets. 2+ of them will be Artemisinin targets, and thus fall under the "more palatable" category, but instead 'merely' give 60 days of mitigation; 1+ will be a fish, and thus fall under Fisher King's "double duration (and also stats for fishing)" condition, thus giving 90 or 120 days of mitigation.
So we'll have to choose between something that is a palatable pick but 'only' gives 60 days. And something that gives 90 or 120 (it depends on how Fisher King and Artemisinin effects of "double duration" stack or combine! it's either "+30 days and then +30 days again", or it's "double 30 to 60; then double 60 to 120") days of mitigation. However, the fish may give rank or picks or whatever... ... on the other hand, said fish might be a 3-pick or 4-pick fight, so who knows. (On the other hand, that might get people to want to choose it even more.)
Hm. I think the next thing we'd want, is a faster way to find Decimator's targets. An improved Decimator's Lens, basically. Or maybe our target-finding will be fast enough anyway, who knows...
- Location
- Omniverse #1345
As an EFB it can probably be smacked with another, stronger, EFB or so.
DkArthas
CAPITAL IS TO BLAME
- Location
- Earth
- Pronouns
- They
I don't know where we will find something narratively stronger than Forebear's own power though.
We were already told that OaF overrides SJUC on this matter.
Wait, has Rihaku specifically said about that somewhere? That SJUC won't let us manifest a Shroud because we have OaF 2?
The only thing we were told in that regard was... well, last page, where people argued over whether it did or didn't, with some saying that OaF definitely overrode it and some speculating that maybe SJUC would let it happen because it removed the pre-requisites/conditions for usual Shroud manifestation. But if we're just in the area of "The reading of OaF says a Shroud is impossible, so it's impossible" then that's a matter of some wiggle room.
If Rihaku's clarified it somewhere, well okay that's that.
Hm, there's also the Armament spell which wouldn't have allowed Shroud Manifestation. On the other hand, that's like a 'direct' way to get a shroud, compared to SJUC which is "can skip requirements for it."
... Bah.
It bugs me that we don't know for sure. I mean, some people are convinced that "OaF 2 says no Shroud; that means no Shroud." And some, like me, are convinced "Well, SJUC should allow it anyway, right?" and are also fairly sure.
If Rihaku had specified anything about it either way it would be fine and remove the uncertainty for some of us, but... ><
I guess we'll just have to see what the SJUC blurb says, if/when it comes up, then.
It could be that the Shroud ability will be replaced with something else. Like an ISH boost, melding with OaF 2's thing.