- Location
- some computer lab
[X] One-Winged Angel - A dove with a broken wing cannot fly.
I wonder if the Echo we put into Oneirodyne Euphony is a valid target.
I wonder if the Echo we put into Oneirodyne Euphony is a valid target.
A Mask of My Own Face [Lovecraft Mech Quest]
- Thread starter Birdsie
- Start date
- Original
Modus_Tollens
SCREAMING AT THE APOCALYPSE
- Location
- ALSO SCREAMING.
[X] Flautist of Azathoth
Chapter 20: When He Died
Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
Chapter 20: When He Died
The Hitts estate was quite a sight to see. A two-story family house in post-Colonial architecture that survived well into the mid-21st century through some ineffable miracle of stunning luck or incredible fate. Its exterior wall appeared to be a neat light-wood laminate, and it had those funny, rectangular semi-dual windows with frameworks in them.
He parked Oneirodyne Avalanche on the street nearby and politely requested for it to keep surveilling the area as he left the cockpit. The Oneirodyne possessed an oddly mild disposition and beeped in disinterested approval to his command.
Become a field operative, Commander Scrivner had said, but he never detailed what kind of operative. Bruce was more than happy to continue his research in the field.
As he prepared to conduct his investigation, he opened up the equipment storage compartment in Avalanche's foot and unloaded his mobile laboratory. Most of his equipment, he put on a cart. He put on a pair of latex gloves; a thick make that wouldn't rupture from contact with a blade. A safety mask followed, and then a belt with most of his engineering tools and scanning instruments, and then he was off into the house. There were some unusual readings even as he approached; the Kant counter on his belt read the strength of the local reality as being particularly low; the Hume measurements fluctuated steadily at 60-70.
He already understood what this meant, and stopped walking.
Joy, I'll be dealing with poltergeists.
He returned back to Avalanche. The Oneirodyne seemed faintly amused as he came back and retrieved a small omega ray from its foot compartment. He couldn't abide its smugness and left with a spring to his step, setting the futuristic weapon to moderate output.
He stepped into the house. It was filled with a heavy ambiance, unnatural; reading instinctively as creepy to human sensibilities and for no apparent reason.
It was much like a place from any of those murky dreams of the collective subconscious, around which horror revolved: A dark wood, a locked shopping mall, a high school or university campus, a large manor house on the hill. A ship at sea (or in space,) a national park, a disused amusement park, a sprawling subway system, an office building...
There were more crude examples: the ghetto at 3 AM, a cemetery at midnight, a church in a post-apocalyptic wasteland...
This house exuded the same feeling as those places, and with unbearable, bone-thick intensity, like a gel flowing into the cup of Bruce's very being. There was a grimness to the place, a darkness; as if a demon had made its lair within the house and comfortably spread its influence into the furniture, and into the very floors and walls. Even the innocuous ticking of the wooden clock set on the wall in the entryway made Bruce's hair rise sharply as if in the apprehension of some invisible predator watching him.
He conducted the investigation, first checking the rooms for danger as standard protocol dictated; Kant counter in one hand, and omega ray in the other. The living room, kitchen, and ground floor bathroom proved specter-free, although as he continued to the basement, the fluctuations sharpened.
There was an eldritch symbol on the floor, in the middle - the space was cleaned out, with no visible furniture. As Bruce set down his implements next to it, a shrieking spectral-green apparition floated up behind him, probably hoping to catch him off-guard. An under-armpit shot from the omega ray disintegrated it, leaving a splatter of ectoplasm on the wall that persisted for all of ten seconds before evaporating into the astral planes.
"How crude," he said, re-setting the output to low. "I'd hoped to catch a specimen, but it appears none of you are quite as powerful as I believed."
No one responded. There wasn't a noise in the house, aside from the disdainful shrieks of decomposing furniture upstairs, the noise of creaking floorboards, and the distant flutter of winds across the drapes. He frowned and lowered the raygun, as he continued his work.
A simple cassette player to record his thoughts on; a holdover from a past age, but a useful one.
"Bruce Hitts, on the Hitts residence in-depth investigation," he started as the tape began rolling. "This will be the first in a series of tapes made for posterity and archiving. The current date is the 11th of July, weather conditions are normal, Xothian novasphere influence is minimal. More locally; Hume readings of the house average to fifty-eight, with fluctuations as low as thirty. The basement shows a minor anomaly; the Elder Sign is painted on the floor in red blood." He raised a small wad of cotton and scraped it against the Sign, before using a molecular scanner on it and nodding to himself.
"Blood contains m-gene readings, unknown type, but inactive. I suspect the parents of Codename Echo drew it on the floor to protect themselves from eldritch influence; no doubt whatever Xothian creature or cult is behind the house's odd fluctuations, and possibly related to the investigation into Echo's background. Given the previous encounters with the Cult of the Black Moon, I am led to believe that Oneirodyne Visionless is involved, as is its pilot. Alas, the truth remains to be determined."
He ended the first recording there, picked up his equipment, and moved on. He'd investigate the Elder Sign later as he gained a deeper look into the nature of the situation and the disappearance of Echo's parents, but he suspected the wraiths who'd taken the estate as their haunt would make that difficult.
He walked upstairs. The parents' bedroom was of no particular interest, and ditto for their bathroom. Some of their reported possessions were missing, in accordance with the police reports he saw, but there was nothing to suggest a fight had occurred; let alone a supernatural battle of any kind.
Why run into the basement, aunt, uncle? What purpose behind it?
If the attack occurred in the early morning as expected, it'd suggest that both of the Hittses would be downstairs in the living room, and then fled downstairs into the basement; or perhaps still in the bedroom, and did the same. But why there, specifically? Was the house surrounded on all sides? Had some madness overtaken them?
He went into his cousin's room. It had the peculiar stench of a fifteen-year-old's living chambers, yes, indeed; there was even a gaming console. The sight of this outdated entertainment artifice brought a quirk to Bruce's lips.
There, on a shelf, appeared to be most of his cousin's literature. There were a couple of thick books; most of them leatherbound and fictional. He was told to bring all of his cousin's reading material back for analysis. He saw there were also more than a few magazines; he picked one up at random.
I Died to a Preventable Disease and Now I'm Fighting Anti-Vaxxers in the Afterlife!
Bruce gawked at this piece of 'art,' as he packed it, alongside the rest, into the black canvas bag.
"What rubbish," he muttered.
There wasn't anything of notice in Daniel's room either, so Bruce went down to the basement level and continued his research. An in-depth analysis of the blood samples didn't yield anything interesting, but some of the ether-readers picked up on a most interesting fact: there was a temporal break in the house at some point.
"I don't get it," Bruce muttered to himself after a good hour of testing. "Why? Basement, cultists..."
None of this made any sense. Why escape into the basement? Why defile this place after chasing its inhabitants into the basement? What made it so special other than the fact that a Morphonaut used to live there?
As he reviewed some of the gathered evidence to no satisfaction, Bruce went by his gut and picked out one of the books from Daniel's room. Maybe it'd prove relevant? As he looked at the cover, the title of the book struck pure condensed shock into him.
'Nyarlathotep.'
He flipped through and read it. It seemed like the nonsensical writings of a broken, scared man who didn't quite fully comprehend how the world operated, but it contained vivid and impossible details of Xothian entities and the results of their presence in what seemed to be a pre-War setting.
He checked. The author's name was H. P. Lovecraft.
Bruce's knee started to shake nervously. He was unnerved. He was scared, even. All of his investigation was starting to come together into something resembling a closed loop; what if the temporal event caused two separate realities to join together? One in which this mundane writer, Lovecraft, described the universe in detail as a prophet, while the second one was the one in which those entities existed? Surely, at some point, someone would've noticed such a convergence, though?
It felt a little too stupid. He decided to keep investigating, and record his findings, but then his radio crackled with static. Frowning, he moved outside the house.
"Repeat the last message?" he requested.
"Bruce, are you there?"
"Ten-four," he said. "I'm still at the Hitts house."
"We need you back at the facility ASAP," Ruth said. She was a good friend and to hear the distress in her voice was troublesome. "Something... odd is happening. It seems like Echo came back, and he's not entirely himself."
"I'm on my way."
---
The Echo of Tru'nembra worked tirelessly on the ritual, even as its other partition continued to steer Oneirodyne Euphony back on Earth.
With a shrug of Resonance, the shard of Echo within the Oneirodyne was subsumed completely and replaced with a more up-to-date version. With another shrug, it was forced to work on the same project as its true reflection, moving Euphony in accordance with certain geomantic principles, in order to draw a proper boundary field for the ritual. It would spread the glorious song of Tru'nembra across the Earth, suffuse the souls of the populace with its power, and then shuffle them outward along with itself into the prepared spot that the Echo was setting up with its drawings and sigils.
The shard communicated back, with mild amusement, that its erstwhile allies, as well as its 'cousin' known as Melissa, protested heavily against doing anything of the sort. It was a short minute's affair to design a simple memetic agent that it transmitted back to its shard, in order to pacify their concerns and make Cortex more agreeable.
The ritual in question was one of spatial transference. It would remove an entire chunk of the east coast of the United States and displace it into the Dreamlands, on the eastern landmass, right south of Celephaïs, its kingdom. An ambitious undertaking, to safeguard its allies.
The Gatekeeper was a useful ally; even as he remained at a far distance in order to plot and weave sorceries across space and time with Hastur back in Celephaïs, he kept translocating the Echo across the shores at high speeds.
The people of Celephaïs protested to hosting a bunch of Great Old Ones in their city, but the tripartite Resonances made them quiet.
"You're not being yourself," Esmeralda complained from its shoulders, as it translocated ever-forward, drawing sigils in the sand with the staff. The same mark for each of them; as soon as the mark in the sand was drawn, it started to emit a ghastly shriek; a distaff notion of the Perfect Sound, connected to Euphony's own Resonance.
"I am being myself," it insisted placidly. There was no purpose to argument. "But whatever you say."
"You feel cold, Daniel," she responded with a frown. It was surprising how emotive her face was, for a cat's. It'd need to study the properties of the Dreamlands later and learn how simple intent carried over into letting other sapients know the emotions of one's countenance.
"It's the result of being dunked in the Pool of Night," it answered, with a bit of sass, attempting to imitate its old self. "You can thank Hastur for that. I wouldn't have started powering up so much if I wasn't afraid he's trying to kill me."
"You'd still go into the Pool," she argued, unsatisfied with that. "Since your brother is trying to kill you."
It chuckled, trying not to make it sound too awkward. "Too true."
The Echo contemplated killing her and making it appear as an accident. Even if all of the cats in the Dreamlands banded up together to take it down for the crime, they would be unable to exact any form of meaningful retribution.
But it didn't. Despite its abrupt enlightenment, it held a certain fondness for the feline.
She was a companion; a minor source of something that felt close to... comfort.
It decided to shelve the topic for later after the ritual was done.
Laying down the sigils didn't take much longer than half an hour. Even so, it was imprecise work - the Echo expected there'd be some dilation of space to account for the issue, or the Dreamlands might simply decide to expand in order to account for the sudden volume of matter within them. Either of those would happen, preferably the former.
And the incantation started, next, in ancient R'lyehian. A tongue grating to the human ear, but pleasant for an Outer God's avatar. It caused the sigils to waver in the sand, emanating 'heatwaves' of dilated space before connecting with tunnels of the same. All of the space within the arrangement started to shift; long patches of grassy terrain, mounds and hillocks, and even the edges of mountains stretched into the horizon as a void of darkness formed in the center of the shoreline. A dark purple light glowed faintly within, trickling a hum of subsonic noise that spread through on the winds. The Echo was glad to not have ordinary human bowels anymore; a sound like this would cause an ordinary person to void the contents of their stomach, and that wasn't to mention the negative effects on the fragile psyche of such lowly beings.
It was the result of pounding so heavily on reality's doors it started to give up on processing the sound properly; and soon, its annoyance would reach a fever pitch, when the ritual spat in its eyes and displaced separate locations within the Dreamlands and Earth.
It would be, perhaps, the first ritual to make an inclusion of ordinary baryonic matter into the ectoplasmic environment of the Dreamlands in history.
If all went according to plan, it'd also be the last.
---
The sudden increase of Resonance from the Flautist of Azathoth allowed Oneirodyne Euphony to flash-buy some upgrades to Music's Reckoning! It utilized those Improvements, as well as Improvements to its base statistics, to conduct a magical ritual to throw a part of Earth into the Dreamlands.
Also, Commander Whateley has been revived, in peak physical form, as well as with roughly 60-70% of his former memories and spirit. As a result of this action, Euphony has transmitted back a single point of Insanity back into the Echo.
Select a parameter for the Innsmouth-to-Dreamlands transference ritual.
[ ] Dilation - Roughly 15-20% of the marked ritual space on Earth is transported into the Dreamlands, making the side effects much less notable. Most of the space is simply overlayed on top of what used to be there. 100% of the people make it through, however, including all Oneirodynes.
[ ] Expansion - 100% of the former space is transported into the Dreamlands, enhancing its volume by the same amount. Can lead to some "404 errors" in the local environment, as well as the entire Dreamlands, making travel quite a hassle for normal people.
And then select an approach to the Echo's allies.
[ ] Simply Command - An approach suited for the Echo of Tru'nembra.
The Echo will sing all of its present allies into a less-active ("dumber") state in order to render them more amenable to hypnosis and suggestion, and then condition them to listen to its commands unquestionably and unflinchingly before removing the state to return their intelligence, with the implanted command.
Unlike most Great Old Ones, you understand the value of humanity and intend to preserve it, but also lead it to unmistakable excellence - however, it is a complete and unavoidable truth that humans are paranoid, irrational, self-destructive creatures. A form of symbiosis can be achieved, wherein you command the forces of humanity and lead them onward, while heeding their own advancement and opinions with fairness. It's an elegant solution.
*Pretty simple. Makes people loyal to you, no matter the circumstances.
*Minions retain full intellect while being pliable and intent on obeying your will.
*Might not work on Commander Whateley, if his spiritual resilience overcomes your spiritual offense.
*Such callous treatment of your allies might horrify Hastur the Unspeakable and Esmeralda.
[ ] Hold Back - ...Hmph.
Something within the Echo stands in front of it, preventing it from simply commanding the humans under its control. A shadow of the boy who used to be, perhaps, or maybe some integral piston of its nature.
Nonetheless, it stays its hand and instead, greets Cortex and Whateley as equals, rather than as a superior being commanding its lessers.
*A small and insignificant step back towards selfhood. +1 Sanity.
*Expends a minor amount of fanwork power in order to sustain this unlikely outcome. Negligible, but if nothing of worth is produced before the end of the quest, it could put you into debt at the start of the next one.
*The Echo of Tru'nembra feels slightly irritated at its own irrational behavior.
[ ] Subsume Them - The smart option!
A youthful Great One such as yourself needs proper nutrition in order to grow, and those Morphonauts look particularly tasteful. Since you love humans so much, why not integrate them as an eternal part of yourself?!
*As a result of horrific and inhuman activity, +15 Insanity (after modifiers.)
*Nearly doubles physical statistics; increases spiritual and mental statistics by a significant margin.
*Unlock a Signature Legendary Spell for every Morphonaut consumed, based on the nature of their m-gene. This would be something on the level of Create Oneirodyne, which is a Signature Legendary Action for Nyarlathotep, but more individualized.
*Increases Resonance by another +50, and capstone by same amount. At this level, you'd reach the exalted status of Great Old One.
*A bunch of Oneirodynes that you can steer remotely with the newly-gained Resonance and magical powers! An entire army to sic on Zachariah, hooray!
*Hastur the Unspeakable is officially disgusted and becomes depressed. Esmeralda leaves. But you don't need them.
*Humans taste kind of like chicken. +++Mood.
*Increases the odds of winning against Zachariah by a full tenth; finding him is much easier with the spell obtained from eating Whateley.
The Hitts estate was quite a sight to see. A two-story family house in post-Colonial architecture that survived well into the mid-21st century through some ineffable miracle of stunning luck or incredible fate. Its exterior wall appeared to be a neat light-wood laminate, and it had those funny, rectangular semi-dual windows with frameworks in them.
He parked Oneirodyne Avalanche on the street nearby and politely requested for it to keep surveilling the area as he left the cockpit. The Oneirodyne possessed an oddly mild disposition and beeped in disinterested approval to his command.
Become a field operative, Commander Scrivner had said, but he never detailed what kind of operative. Bruce was more than happy to continue his research in the field.
As he prepared to conduct his investigation, he opened up the equipment storage compartment in Avalanche's foot and unloaded his mobile laboratory. Most of his equipment, he put on a cart. He put on a pair of latex gloves; a thick make that wouldn't rupture from contact with a blade. A safety mask followed, and then a belt with most of his engineering tools and scanning instruments, and then he was off into the house. There were some unusual readings even as he approached; the Kant counter on his belt read the strength of the local reality as being particularly low; the Hume measurements fluctuated steadily at 60-70.
He already understood what this meant, and stopped walking.
Joy, I'll be dealing with poltergeists.
He returned back to Avalanche. The Oneirodyne seemed faintly amused as he came back and retrieved a small omega ray from its foot compartment. He couldn't abide its smugness and left with a spring to his step, setting the futuristic weapon to moderate output.
He stepped into the house. It was filled with a heavy ambiance, unnatural; reading instinctively as creepy to human sensibilities and for no apparent reason.
It was much like a place from any of those murky dreams of the collective subconscious, around which horror revolved: A dark wood, a locked shopping mall, a high school or university campus, a large manor house on the hill. A ship at sea (or in space,) a national park, a disused amusement park, a sprawling subway system, an office building...
There were more crude examples: the ghetto at 3 AM, a cemetery at midnight, a church in a post-apocalyptic wasteland...
This house exuded the same feeling as those places, and with unbearable, bone-thick intensity, like a gel flowing into the cup of Bruce's very being. There was a grimness to the place, a darkness; as if a demon had made its lair within the house and comfortably spread its influence into the furniture, and into the very floors and walls. Even the innocuous ticking of the wooden clock set on the wall in the entryway made Bruce's hair rise sharply as if in the apprehension of some invisible predator watching him.
He conducted the investigation, first checking the rooms for danger as standard protocol dictated; Kant counter in one hand, and omega ray in the other. The living room, kitchen, and ground floor bathroom proved specter-free, although as he continued to the basement, the fluctuations sharpened.
There was an eldritch symbol on the floor, in the middle - the space was cleaned out, with no visible furniture. As Bruce set down his implements next to it, a shrieking spectral-green apparition floated up behind him, probably hoping to catch him off-guard. An under-armpit shot from the omega ray disintegrated it, leaving a splatter of ectoplasm on the wall that persisted for all of ten seconds before evaporating into the astral planes.
"How crude," he said, re-setting the output to low. "I'd hoped to catch a specimen, but it appears none of you are quite as powerful as I believed."
No one responded. There wasn't a noise in the house, aside from the disdainful shrieks of decomposing furniture upstairs, the noise of creaking floorboards, and the distant flutter of winds across the drapes. He frowned and lowered the raygun, as he continued his work.
A simple cassette player to record his thoughts on; a holdover from a past age, but a useful one.
"Bruce Hitts, on the Hitts residence in-depth investigation," he started as the tape began rolling. "This will be the first in a series of tapes made for posterity and archiving. The current date is the 11th of July, weather conditions are normal, Xothian novasphere influence is minimal. More locally; Hume readings of the house average to fifty-eight, with fluctuations as low as thirty. The basement shows a minor anomaly; the Elder Sign is painted on the floor in red blood." He raised a small wad of cotton and scraped it against the Sign, before using a molecular scanner on it and nodding to himself.
"Blood contains m-gene readings, unknown type, but inactive. I suspect the parents of Codename Echo drew it on the floor to protect themselves from eldritch influence; no doubt whatever Xothian creature or cult is behind the house's odd fluctuations, and possibly related to the investigation into Echo's background. Given the previous encounters with the Cult of the Black Moon, I am led to believe that Oneirodyne Visionless is involved, as is its pilot. Alas, the truth remains to be determined."
He ended the first recording there, picked up his equipment, and moved on. He'd investigate the Elder Sign later as he gained a deeper look into the nature of the situation and the disappearance of Echo's parents, but he suspected the wraiths who'd taken the estate as their haunt would make that difficult.
He walked upstairs. The parents' bedroom was of no particular interest, and ditto for their bathroom. Some of their reported possessions were missing, in accordance with the police reports he saw, but there was nothing to suggest a fight had occurred; let alone a supernatural battle of any kind.
Why run into the basement, aunt, uncle? What purpose behind it?
If the attack occurred in the early morning as expected, it'd suggest that both of the Hittses would be downstairs in the living room, and then fled downstairs into the basement; or perhaps still in the bedroom, and did the same. But why there, specifically? Was the house surrounded on all sides? Had some madness overtaken them?
He went into his cousin's room. It had the peculiar stench of a fifteen-year-old's living chambers, yes, indeed; there was even a gaming console. The sight of this outdated entertainment artifice brought a quirk to Bruce's lips.
There, on a shelf, appeared to be most of his cousin's literature. There were a couple of thick books; most of them leatherbound and fictional. He was told to bring all of his cousin's reading material back for analysis. He saw there were also more than a few magazines; he picked one up at random.
I Died to a Preventable Disease and Now I'm Fighting Anti-Vaxxers in the Afterlife!
Bruce gawked at this piece of 'art,' as he packed it, alongside the rest, into the black canvas bag.
"What rubbish," he muttered.
There wasn't anything of notice in Daniel's room either, so Bruce went down to the basement level and continued his research. An in-depth analysis of the blood samples didn't yield anything interesting, but some of the ether-readers picked up on a most interesting fact: there was a temporal break in the house at some point.
"I don't get it," Bruce muttered to himself after a good hour of testing. "Why? Basement, cultists..."
None of this made any sense. Why escape into the basement? Why defile this place after chasing its inhabitants into the basement? What made it so special other than the fact that a Morphonaut used to live there?
As he reviewed some of the gathered evidence to no satisfaction, Bruce went by his gut and picked out one of the books from Daniel's room. Maybe it'd prove relevant? As he looked at the cover, the title of the book struck pure condensed shock into him.
'Nyarlathotep.'
He flipped through and read it. It seemed like the nonsensical writings of a broken, scared man who didn't quite fully comprehend how the world operated, but it contained vivid and impossible details of Xothian entities and the results of their presence in what seemed to be a pre-War setting.
He checked. The author's name was H. P. Lovecraft.
Bruce's knee started to shake nervously. He was unnerved. He was scared, even. All of his investigation was starting to come together into something resembling a closed loop; what if the temporal event caused two separate realities to join together? One in which this mundane writer, Lovecraft, described the universe in detail as a prophet, while the second one was the one in which those entities existed? Surely, at some point, someone would've noticed such a convergence, though?
It felt a little too stupid. He decided to keep investigating, and record his findings, but then his radio crackled with static. Frowning, he moved outside the house.
"Repeat the last message?" he requested.
"Bruce, are you there?"
"Ten-four," he said. "I'm still at the Hitts house."
"We need you back at the facility ASAP," Ruth said. She was a good friend and to hear the distress in her voice was troublesome. "Something... odd is happening. It seems like Echo came back, and he's not entirely himself."
"I'm on my way."
---
The Echo of Tru'nembra worked tirelessly on the ritual, even as its other partition continued to steer Oneirodyne Euphony back on Earth.
With a shrug of Resonance, the shard of Echo within the Oneirodyne was subsumed completely and replaced with a more up-to-date version. With another shrug, it was forced to work on the same project as its true reflection, moving Euphony in accordance with certain geomantic principles, in order to draw a proper boundary field for the ritual. It would spread the glorious song of Tru'nembra across the Earth, suffuse the souls of the populace with its power, and then shuffle them outward along with itself into the prepared spot that the Echo was setting up with its drawings and sigils.
The shard communicated back, with mild amusement, that its erstwhile allies, as well as its 'cousin' known as Melissa, protested heavily against doing anything of the sort. It was a short minute's affair to design a simple memetic agent that it transmitted back to its shard, in order to pacify their concerns and make Cortex more agreeable.
The ritual in question was one of spatial transference. It would remove an entire chunk of the east coast of the United States and displace it into the Dreamlands, on the eastern landmass, right south of Celephaïs, its kingdom. An ambitious undertaking, to safeguard its allies.
The Gatekeeper was a useful ally; even as he remained at a far distance in order to plot and weave sorceries across space and time with Hastur back in Celephaïs, he kept translocating the Echo across the shores at high speeds.
The people of Celephaïs protested to hosting a bunch of Great Old Ones in their city, but the tripartite Resonances made them quiet.
"You're not being yourself," Esmeralda complained from its shoulders, as it translocated ever-forward, drawing sigils in the sand with the staff. The same mark for each of them; as soon as the mark in the sand was drawn, it started to emit a ghastly shriek; a distaff notion of the Perfect Sound, connected to Euphony's own Resonance.
"I am being myself," it insisted placidly. There was no purpose to argument. "But whatever you say."
"You feel cold, Daniel," she responded with a frown. It was surprising how emotive her face was, for a cat's. It'd need to study the properties of the Dreamlands later and learn how simple intent carried over into letting other sapients know the emotions of one's countenance.
"It's the result of being dunked in the Pool of Night," it answered, with a bit of sass, attempting to imitate its old self. "You can thank Hastur for that. I wouldn't have started powering up so much if I wasn't afraid he's trying to kill me."
"You'd still go into the Pool," she argued, unsatisfied with that. "Since your brother is trying to kill you."
It chuckled, trying not to make it sound too awkward. "Too true."
The Echo contemplated killing her and making it appear as an accident. Even if all of the cats in the Dreamlands banded up together to take it down for the crime, they would be unable to exact any form of meaningful retribution.
But it didn't. Despite its abrupt enlightenment, it held a certain fondness for the feline.
She was a companion; a minor source of something that felt close to... comfort.
It decided to shelve the topic for later after the ritual was done.
Laying down the sigils didn't take much longer than half an hour. Even so, it was imprecise work - the Echo expected there'd be some dilation of space to account for the issue, or the Dreamlands might simply decide to expand in order to account for the sudden volume of matter within them. Either of those would happen, preferably the former.
And the incantation started, next, in ancient R'lyehian. A tongue grating to the human ear, but pleasant for an Outer God's avatar. It caused the sigils to waver in the sand, emanating 'heatwaves' of dilated space before connecting with tunnels of the same. All of the space within the arrangement started to shift; long patches of grassy terrain, mounds and hillocks, and even the edges of mountains stretched into the horizon as a void of darkness formed in the center of the shoreline. A dark purple light glowed faintly within, trickling a hum of subsonic noise that spread through on the winds. The Echo was glad to not have ordinary human bowels anymore; a sound like this would cause an ordinary person to void the contents of their stomach, and that wasn't to mention the negative effects on the fragile psyche of such lowly beings.
It was the result of pounding so heavily on reality's doors it started to give up on processing the sound properly; and soon, its annoyance would reach a fever pitch, when the ritual spat in its eyes and displaced separate locations within the Dreamlands and Earth.
It would be, perhaps, the first ritual to make an inclusion of ordinary baryonic matter into the ectoplasmic environment of the Dreamlands in history.
If all went according to plan, it'd also be the last.
---
The sudden increase of Resonance from the Flautist of Azathoth allowed Oneirodyne Euphony to flash-buy some upgrades to Music's Reckoning! It utilized those Improvements, as well as Improvements to its base statistics, to conduct a magical ritual to throw a part of Earth into the Dreamlands.
Also, Commander Whateley has been revived, in peak physical form, as well as with roughly 60-70% of his former memories and spirit. As a result of this action, Euphony has transmitted back a single point of Insanity back into the Echo.
Select a parameter for the Innsmouth-to-Dreamlands transference ritual.
[ ] Dilation - Roughly 15-20% of the marked ritual space on Earth is transported into the Dreamlands, making the side effects much less notable. Most of the space is simply overlayed on top of what used to be there. 100% of the people make it through, however, including all Oneirodynes.
[ ] Expansion - 100% of the former space is transported into the Dreamlands, enhancing its volume by the same amount. Can lead to some "404 errors" in the local environment, as well as the entire Dreamlands, making travel quite a hassle for normal people.
And then select an approach to the Echo's allies.
[ ] Simply Command - An approach suited for the Echo of Tru'nembra.
The Echo will sing all of its present allies into a less-active ("dumber") state in order to render them more amenable to hypnosis and suggestion, and then condition them to listen to its commands unquestionably and unflinchingly before removing the state to return their intelligence, with the implanted command.
Unlike most Great Old Ones, you understand the value of humanity and intend to preserve it, but also lead it to unmistakable excellence - however, it is a complete and unavoidable truth that humans are paranoid, irrational, self-destructive creatures. A form of symbiosis can be achieved, wherein you command the forces of humanity and lead them onward, while heeding their own advancement and opinions with fairness. It's an elegant solution.
*Pretty simple. Makes people loyal to you, no matter the circumstances.
*Minions retain full intellect while being pliable and intent on obeying your will.
*Might not work on Commander Whateley, if his spiritual resilience overcomes your spiritual offense.
*Such callous treatment of your allies might horrify Hastur the Unspeakable and Esmeralda.
[ ] Hold Back - ...Hmph.
Something within the Echo stands in front of it, preventing it from simply commanding the humans under its control. A shadow of the boy who used to be, perhaps, or maybe some integral piston of its nature.
Nonetheless, it stays its hand and instead, greets Cortex and Whateley as equals, rather than as a superior being commanding its lessers.
*A small and insignificant step back towards selfhood. +1 Sanity.
*Expends a minor amount of fanwork power in order to sustain this unlikely outcome. Negligible, but if nothing of worth is produced before the end of the quest, it could put you into debt at the start of the next one.
*The Echo of Tru'nembra feels slightly irritated at its own irrational behavior.
[ ] Subsume Them - The smart option!
A youthful Great One such as yourself needs proper nutrition in order to grow, and those Morphonauts look particularly tasteful. Since you love humans so much, why not integrate them as an eternal part of yourself?!
*As a result of horrific and inhuman activity, +15 Insanity (after modifiers.)
*Nearly doubles physical statistics; increases spiritual and mental statistics by a significant margin.
*Unlock a Signature Legendary Spell for every Morphonaut consumed, based on the nature of their m-gene. This would be something on the level of Create Oneirodyne, which is a Signature Legendary Action for Nyarlathotep, but more individualized.
*Increases Resonance by another +50, and capstone by same amount. At this level, you'd reach the exalted status of Great Old One.
*A bunch of Oneirodynes that you can steer remotely with the newly-gained Resonance and magical powers! An entire army to sic on Zachariah, hooray!
*Hastur the Unspeakable is officially disgusted and becomes depressed. Esmeralda leaves. But you don't need them.
*Humans taste kind of like chicken. +++Mood.
*Increases the odds of winning against Zachariah by a full tenth; finding him is much easier with the spell obtained from eating Whateley.
- Location
- a place
[X] Hold Back
[X] Expansion
Gotta start getting Echo back to his old self.
Since Birdsie confirmed that Expansion stills saves everyone and the Oneirodyne, I think it's the best option for reasons outlined in discord.
Birdsie — Today at 8:09 PM
You can industrialize.
This is going to be a huge deal as we take the fight to Daniel and have to start thinking about the upkeep of all the new Oneirodynes we're creating. it's worth dealing with some spatial anamolies in the short term, which I'm sure Daniel can fix up later on when his efforts aren't completely focused on stopping his brother from destroying the universe, and will probably help protect Innsmouth and the kingdom anyway.
[X] Expansion
Gotta start getting Echo back to his old self.
Since Birdsie confirmed that Expansion stills saves everyone and the Oneirodyne, I think it's the best option for reasons outlined in discord.
Birdsie — Today at 8:09 PM
You can industrialize.
[8:10 PM]
Well, not that you couldn't otherwise.[8:10 PM]
Echo's IQ is in the upper percentiles and he can weave together divination spells to figure out what kind of physical mechanism would be required "to do X" if he wanted to, essentially becoming a grandmaster engineer instantly, but it'd let you industrialize at once, and on a massive scale.This is going to be a huge deal as we take the fight to Daniel and have to start thinking about the upkeep of all the new Oneirodynes we're creating. it's worth dealing with some spatial anamolies in the short term, which I'm sure Daniel can fix up later on when his efforts aren't completely focused on stopping his brother from destroying the universe, and will probably help protect Innsmouth and the kingdom anyway.
- Location
- USA
[X] Dilation - Roughly 15-20% of the marked ritual space on Earth is transported into the Dreamlands, making the side effects much less notable. Most of the space is simply overlayed on top of what used to be there. 100% of the people make it through, however, including all Oneirodynes.
[X] Hold Back - ...Hmph.
[X] Hold Back - ...Hmph.
Aabcehmu
Confusion as a Natural State of Being
- Location
- Aurora, CO
- Pronouns
- Any/All
My major issue with Expansion is that it seems like it could potentially harm the general readiness of the rest of the Dreamlands, and potentially increase internal tensions in the Alliance with the sort of chaos it creates.
- Location
- a place
I think this is worth all of that, given the sort of thing we're currently trying to stop is our brother destroying the universe, including the entirety of the Dreamlands. The benefits of a industrial magitech society backed by Daniel's absurd intelligence stat, dream physics hacking, and knowledge of ritualism should be pretty high.
Not having to be the sole source of upkeep for all the Euphony we create also means Daniel has more time to be exposed to other people and have his insanity eased along with all the other extremely crucial stuff that is going to affect the outcome of the conflict.
Internal tensions are going to run up against the wall of the fact that their is a existential threat everyone is up against really, really fast too.
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Modus_Tollens
SCREAMING AT THE APOCALYPSE
- Location
- ALSO SCREAMING.
Yeah... yeah. Time to hold back a little. We're chill.
Humanity isn't everything, its nothing to write home about exactly, but its neat and its nice to have neat things.
Humanity isn't everything, its nothing to write home about exactly, but its neat and its nice to have neat things.
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Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
He is, funnily enough, more human than you are, currently.
Modus_Tollens
SCREAMING AT THE APOCALYPSE
- Location
- ALSO SCREAMING.
Considering this fact I'm surprised that he is surprised. Our not holding back is by far the more expected outcome.
[X] Expansion
[X] Hold Back
[X] Expansion
[X] Hold Back
Half the fun is the irrationality of it. Ironic that instead of power, now we're gonna need to slowly rank up our sanity stat to beat Hastur's and start sounding normal to people (whatever that is).
[X] Hold Back
Half the fun is the irrationality of it. Ironic that instead of power, now we're gonna need to slowly rank up our sanity stat to beat Hastur's and start sounding normal to people (whatever that is).
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- Location
- some computer lab
[X] Expansion
[X] Hold Back
[X] Hold Back
Knight-Radiant
Recovering Rageaholic
[X] Dilation
[X] Hold Back
[X] Hold Back
- Location
- A place
[X] Dilation
[X] Hold Back
[X] Hold Back
- Location
- va
[X] Hold Back
[X] Expansion
[X] Expansion
Modus_Tollens
SCREAMING AT THE APOCALYPSE
- Location
- ALSO SCREAMING.
What is the point of being a god if you are shackled to practicality? Power is the capacity to choose and, if you can only ever see one choice, you could never be said to have power at all.
We will act because we wish it, not because it is the easy road. All easy roads lead down and following them is what broke the dream in the first place. We have to change the tune the universe dances to.
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