A Simple Transaction I
- Thread starter Rihaku
- Start date
- Original
Zampano
🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈
- Location
- Simping for DSB
Strife + Gisena voters: is the prospect of two consecutive 3-pick fights relevant to your choice? Getting Mythology Halo probably has to happen first, which means that the intensive Echo-farming (+Regalia fight?) will be done on the heels of an actual death chance. Do we know if there have been any rerolls purchased since Procyon? (The smartest wish would probably be Slice Fate, tbh)
Imprisoner's Shadow would also be pretty good, as we'd be able to get permanent RoW.
The perma RoW is locked behind 2 Attainments (Battle + Purpose)+ the Attainment for RoW itself, Hunger is still a noob in the Praxis so he has not qualified for them. A wish is not enough for that (you can trust me on that, I tried)
- Location
- 1
some humorous hypothetical descendants of Zang Kong, presented in the form of a historical recounting:
Ey Kong, little known descendant of Zang Kong, had a dao literally based around asking his ancestor for help. He is an almost stereotypical example of the spoiled young master, except his power to rely on backing is genuinely his own power. unfortunately, although the Dao more easily develops powerful attributes then most others, it requires a fervent belief in ones backing and deserving of familial support which is difficult to cultivate intentionally while also cultivating the user high enough to form a Dao.
Ey Kongs slogan was 'Ey, Kong', and this was his main Dao-based capability. If in a zone of silence, his power was mostly defrayed, though sign language allowed him to continue using his capabilities with a lower degree of success.
better known then Ey Kong was Donk Ey Kong, who possessed the Dao of the Cosmos Foundation- a variant of the common Cosmos Edge Dao used by swordsmen, the Cosmos Foundation presents a flat surface rather then a transfinite dividing line, allowing him to 'Donk' his opponents on the head. Accordingly, he wielded a hammer. The second half of his name has little bearing on his power, but it is rumored that he once Donked Ey Kong and subsequently broke through several stages at once. His current whereabouts are unknown.
Ey Kongs slogan was 'Ey, Kong', and this was his main Dao-based capability. If in a zone of silence, his power was mostly defrayed, though sign language allowed him to continue using his capabilities with a lower degree of success.
better known then Ey Kong was Donk Ey Kong, who possessed the Dao of the Cosmos Foundation- a variant of the common Cosmos Edge Dao used by swordsmen, the Cosmos Foundation presents a flat surface rather then a transfinite dividing line, allowing him to 'Donk' his opponents on the head. Accordingly, he wielded a hammer. The second half of his name has little bearing on his power, but it is rumored that he once Donked Ey Kong and subsequently broke through several stages at once. His current whereabouts are unknown.
Fanwork##2747 Words
Omake: "If Wishes Were Horses"
The Realm of Evening was a miraculous place. One could explore it for ten thousand lifetimes and still find new marvels in its hidden corners. This day found Adorie Mirellyian accompanying Lord Hunger in his training at the base of an enormous volcano that the Cursebearer had erected amid a crystalline forest at Lady Allria's request.
Days had passed, yet even now Adorie could feel deep magic reverberations emanating from the volcano's throat as the Sorceress used the flames and the Realm's rich bounty to forge an Artifact. Their hope was that it would let her contest their latest foe as an equal.
It was bizarre what the human mind could become accustomed to.
Before her fateful meeting with Lord Hunger, Adorie had resigned herself to never again setting foot outside her luxuriant birdcage. She had never truly lacked for anything while confined to the Tower, her sister had seen to it that her every wish would be granted. Lavish cuisine, colorful accouterments, interesting books... at times she wondered whether there was any point trying to resist the Lord Protector, whether she shouldn't just accept her preordained place and live out the rest of her days as a captive princess till the very end.
Then Lord Hunger had arrived on the wings of a storm and torn apart that saccharine, cloying dream. Suddenly she had a choice to make. Not whether she would escape the Tower, for it was being devoured by Lord Hunger's Cloak even as they spoke and would have turned to dust in short order either way. No, with his arrival her freedom was all but assured.
But for the first time in her life she could fight back against her imprisoner and murderer of her family. She hadn't known the truth of their kinship back then, but would it have changed anything even if she had?
No. She wished she could have done more, found the right words to resolve things with less bloodshed, but taking her fate into her own hands was one decision she would never regret. She had sworn to herself in that moment that she would never let herself become a helpless plaything again, no matter what kinds of the challenges life threw at her.
That determination was being tested this very moment once more.
With trembling hands she turned the page of the third volume of Mythical Beasts of Nilfel and tried to focus on the words, but it was difficult to ignore what was happening around her. It wasn't due to being jostled, for Lord Hunger could keep her perfectly stable even while carrying her around in the midst of a pitched battle.
It wasn't the danger to her life either, for she trusted Lord Hunger implicitly. She knew he would keep her safe no matter what, that he would die before letting harm come to any of his friends. She knew, and yet she couldn't bring herself to look up at the horde of green-skinned monstrosities rushing through the strange crystal plant-life towards them.
Rushing, only to die upon Lord Hunger's Blade.
She couldn't rightly follow the arc of his swing, but it was easy enough to perceive the aftermath. Only death and destruction was left in his wake, even the strongest mutants incapable of slowing him down for more than a single moment.
Adorie was acutely aware that Hunger was purposefully pushing himself to the brink. It was as endearing as it was exasperating to watch him work himself to the bone time and again, yet she knew all too well just what motivated him to go to such lengths. He had explained that he was using the Realm to try and prepare the team for what might await them outside, but in his eyes she saw the reflection of nightmares that plagued her sleep.
Of a green tide that swallowed world after world and of empty-eyed victims whom she had failed.
That was why Lord Hunger had been fighting without rest, why her rival Queen had isolated herself in the forge, why Aeira, Letrizia and Aobaru were away sharpening themselves against their own challenges. And why Adorie was doing her best to support Lord Hunger at the same time as she tried to unearth further hints of Empyrean Signs from her books.
It was slow-going. Not in the absolute sense, for she was certain that she would only need a few months at most to construct the next Sign, but that was time they didn't have. They would need those results immediately after their release from the Realm, not in some nebulous future. In any other circumstances she would have felt proud of her fast progress, but now she only felt despair threaten to swallow her whole. The only thing she seemed to be good for was bolstering Hunger's endurance with her bloodline, but that paltry help provided no solution to their real problems.
And she was failing even at that simple task. Adorie could feel Hunger's labored breaths, his seemingly limitless vitality pushed to its limits by the uninterrupted fighting. Nilfel's Queen did what she could to reinforce her champion again, but she was exhausted herself and her focus faltered. Aobaru's Vigorflame infusion had long evaporated from Hunger's body and his Pressure was a pale shadow of its former self. His technique was as sharp as ever, but the force behind the swings couldn't penetrate as far.
His Ruin Armor receded and several mutated Armaments approached them, smelling blood in the water.
The copies weren't quite the real deal, some ephemeral quality missing from their massive frame that even Verschlengorge at his weakest possessed, but their power was sufficient to threaten Hunger at his best, never mind in his current state.
Their Shrouds pressed down upon them, promising annihilation. Time, space and reality strained under the weight of their combined Pressure, the Armaments acting in perfect accord as they approached the weary Cursebearer.
Deliriously she wondered if they would die like this, slain not by some terrible foe or an intricate plot, but by her protector's own magics. It would certainly be an ironic enough fate to amuse the Apocryphal Curse briefly...
The star of Hunger's Astral presence pulsed once, twice, then contracted as if trying to confine its influence to a smaller area in an imitation of his enemies. It pulsed a third time, then burst apart at the seams, its radiance once more blinding to the spiritual eye. It wound through Lord Hunger's body, a mirror of the Armaments' physical potential suffusing him instead of its earlier attempts to chain itself.
Now it was as if the past several days never happened, Lord Hunger emerging even stronger from his transformation, his Pressure sharper and his sword-arm even mightier. With but a few elegant strokes he dismembered the Armament imitations and disposed of the horde just as easily.
Adorie blinked in surprise, then giggled in relief, though her voice was tinged by envy.
Of course Lord Hunger wouldn't lose in a fight. His aptitude for sudden advancement was unmatched by anyone in this cosmos, she should have learned as much from their travels together. She had been worried for nothing-
Suddenly her champion collapsed under her as if a puppet with its strings cut.
"Hunger!"
"Hunger!" Adorie screamed as she scrambled off him and hovered over his fallen form.
"I'm, hah, alright," he waved her off, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.
Failure. Again.
One that did very well at masquerading as success, but this wasn't what he had been searching for.
The boost to his Astral Rank and bodily parameters was undoubtedly useful, but it was what they called a quantitative advantage, and not one that would let him cut through the Foremost Shard's bullshit.
The Work held the answer, this he knew. It wasn't even like he had to develop a new capacity, merely to push the limits of the technique that he had learned in the fight against the mountainous Rotbeast.
He had all the prerequisites. The Realm of Forms was easily accessible at any time with his advanced mastery of the Quickness Rune, the Artful Thorn streamlined into a cheaper form by his fight against Procyon, his senses and mind expanded well beyond what was necessary to target multiple enemies at once.
The only weak link was himself.
The Praxis was an unforgiving mistress. One did not merely learn Praxis spells as it might look to an outside observer. The Praxis had no support structures, no hard and fast rules beyond what he imposed on himself. The form its Runes took was simultaneously meaningless to others and of utmost importance to Hunger, for that was the language his soul used to speak to the world.
He shaped the Work and was shaped by it in turn.
And not even the best liar could deceive his soul. Hunger had done his best to push himself to his limits and to give his enemies a form that would remind him of what was at stake, but the burning necessity that had driven him to such heights previously just wasn't there.
He had two more weeks to train, and that knowledge sapped him of inspiration like little else. Perhaps memory alteration could have provided a temporary solution... but no. He knew instinctively that the Work couldn't be cheated so easily.
Hunger gritted his teeth and made to stand up again, but Adorie pushed him down again stubbornly.
"Hunger," she whispered. "I won't tell you to stop training, but please rest a bit? You will help no one if you kill yourself doing this."
Somehow he had the sense that the joke about it not being real training unless he died wouldn't go over well.
"Alright," he nodded.
"If you won't, I'll have to tell-", she started gathering steam, then halted and stared at him in incomprehension. "...What?"
"I'll take it easy and switch to something else," he rolled his eyes. Who did she think he was, some kind of battle maniac? Since his current methods weren't working, perhaps changing things up yield better results.
He sat down comfortably and motioned her to do the same. With a flicker of will he produced a ball of Edeldross n his hand and stared into its shimmering depths.
It reminded him of better times, of friends sitting around a campfire, of his first kiss, the memory untainted by what happened after. Once again Hunger marveled that his battered soul could produce something so pure and bright, but the uplifting warmth he felt coursing through his body didn't lie.
It felt like hope.
Perhaps that was the truest expression of his Element, the fragile feeling that withers beneath the weight of the real but can never be truly extinguished. Was that what his heart desired when he bathed in the Elixir Springs so many nights ago?
But it wasn't hope that had killed the Tyrant.
He crushed the ball in his fist.
"Gisena once told me that the magic of Myth always demands a price, and our later experiments confirmed this," he addressed Adorie. He avoided looking in her eye, knowing that she wouldn't approve of what he was about to propose. "I would say that the sacrifice of a personal Element should be worth a Sign or two to the Well."
"What?" she whispered. "You mean..."
"Edeldross has served me well so far," he said, words falling like stones, "but in the end it is a tool. And if a tool is ill-suited to its current task, a workman replaces it."
"NO!" Adorie shook her head in denial, as he had expected. "No, I'm sure that's not necessary, Hunger! Just give me some more time, I promise-"
He bit back the words he wanted to say. It wasn't about her. There was no time. He needed results, not empty platitudes.
They were all on edge, but that was no reason to lash out at his friends.
"I haven't decided yet," he said instead. "But it's one of the few viable solutions I've thought of. I'm all ears if you have other ideas."
There was a long, uncomfortable pause as Adorie sat and fidgeted in place.
Meanwhile he channeled the power of the Ring's Blood domain and guided the rivers of findross-infused blood remaining from his last battle towards the volcano. The Realm could generate the magical energy in prodigious amounts, but Gisena's labor burned through it just as quickly, so he often had to produce more in replacement. Thus the orc horde doubled both as a training aide and as fuel for the Sorceress' Artifice.
Idly he mused on the strange similarity of the magics he wielded. Accretion separated parts of himself and infused them into objects to grow them in conjunction with his legend. Soul Evocation allowed him to enforce a broad effect on reality as long as it conformed to his Evocation's themes. Surgecraft let him generate their own unique Element in massive quantities. The Praxis was intensely personal too, more so than any other Art perhaps.
In that regard only the Empyrean Signs stood out. It was not a formalized magic system and adjusted its spells to his needs, but in the end its source didn't spring from within. He had relied on Adorie both for research into Signs and for the wealth to feed his Cloak. He had repaid her in time, but there was still some lingering guilt-
"What are you doing?" he deadpanned.
Adorie was kneeling in front of him, her hands clasped in prayer.
"...please don't do it," she asked. "I don't know what to tell you to convince you otherwise, but please, don't give up something so important to yourself."
This was ridiculous. It was just a magic.
He said as much.
"No," she shook her head. "I've seen the way you look at it. It's much more than that to you. Please, I'm sure we'll find another way."
Looking into her eyes and seeing that unshakable belief in himself, he wavered.
But no. Closing his eyes he focused on the Well of power from which his Cloak's spells sprung forth. Unless he wanted to bet everything on Gisena, he had to expand his arsenal of tools, and the Evening Signs had provided weapons of war every time. It wasn't a certainty that he would get something useful for his current circumstances, but given past experiences the chances were high.
All he had to do was fill up the dry well.
Well?
If it wasn't for his latest advancement in Rank and if he hadn't been so focused on it, he likely wouldn't have noticed the change, but he could feel the Well refilling at an extremely slow speed. Tracing the connection back, he opened his eyes and looked at Adorie doubtfully.
The Queen of Nilfel didn't seem to be doing anything special. She still retained her former prayer pose and was staring at him in supplication, but that was hardly relevant?..
In a flash of insight he realized just what was happening and almost covered his face in embarrassment that it hadn't occurred to him earlier.
Why was it that platinum coins could refill the magical reservoir? He could make jokes about the Cloak's money-grubbing ways, but it wasn't about material wealth at all, was it? Adorie had explained it back then, how the magic of Myth relied almost completely on the quality of the Well's substance to perform its miracles. And what sort of energy could perform those miracles without conscious input?
Divinity.
What were the necessary components to restore expended divinity?
Prayer. Desire. Worship.
Not of a single person, but of a congregation. A city, a nation, a world.
Wishes to fill up a Wishing Well, wasn't it all too fitting?
"Um, Hunger?" Adorie asked nervously. "Why are you smiling?"
"I think I won't be sacrificing Edeldross after all," he told Adorie, his smile transforming into a smirk. "I believe I've found a better way."
"That's... good?" she smiled back hesitantly.
"Say, Adorie," he asked abruptly. "How do you feel about changing your title to God-Queen of Nilfel?"
Afterwards he had to spend quite a bit of time explaining to everyone that he hadn't gone mad with power, but at least there was a path forwards once more.
All he had to do was install himself and his companions as the new divine overlords of the Human Sphere.
Sounded like a piece of cake.
Omake: "If Wishes Were Horses"
The Realm of Evening was a miraculous place. One could explore it for ten thousand lifetimes and still find new marvels in its hidden corners. This day found Adorie Mirellyian accompanying Lord Hunger in his training at the base of an enormous volcano that the Cursebearer had erected amid a crystalline forest at Lady Allria's request.
Days had passed, yet even now Adorie could feel deep magic reverberations emanating from the volcano's throat as the Sorceress used the flames and the Realm's rich bounty to forge an Artifact. Their hope was that it would let her contest their latest foe as an equal.
It was bizarre what the human mind could become accustomed to.
Before her fateful meeting with Lord Hunger, Adorie had resigned herself to never again setting foot outside her luxuriant birdcage. She had never truly lacked for anything while confined to the Tower, her sister had seen to it that her every wish would be granted. Lavish cuisine, colorful accouterments, interesting books... at times she wondered whether there was any point trying to resist the Lord Protector, whether she shouldn't just accept her preordained place and live out the rest of her days as a captive princess till the very end.
Then Lord Hunger had arrived on the wings of a storm and torn apart that saccharine, cloying dream. Suddenly she had a choice to make. Not whether she would escape the Tower, for it was being devoured by Lord Hunger's Cloak even as they spoke and would have turned to dust in short order either way. No, with his arrival her freedom was all but assured.
But for the first time in her life she could fight back against her imprisoner and murderer of her family. She hadn't known the truth of their kinship back then, but would it have changed anything even if she had?
No. She wished she could have done more, found the right words to resolve things with less bloodshed, but taking her fate into her own hands was one decision she would never regret. She had sworn to herself in that moment that she would never let herself become a helpless plaything again, no matter what kinds of the challenges life threw at her.
That determination was being tested this very moment once more.
With trembling hands she turned the page of the third volume of Mythical Beasts of Nilfel and tried to focus on the words, but it was difficult to ignore what was happening around her. It wasn't due to being jostled, for Lord Hunger could keep her perfectly stable even while carrying her around in the midst of a pitched battle.
It wasn't the danger to her life either, for she trusted Lord Hunger implicitly. She knew he would keep her safe no matter what, that he would die before letting harm come to any of his friends. She knew, and yet she couldn't bring herself to look up at the horde of green-skinned monstrosities rushing through the strange crystal plant-life towards them.
Rushing, only to die upon Lord Hunger's Blade.
She couldn't rightly follow the arc of his swing, but it was easy enough to perceive the aftermath. Only death and destruction was left in his wake, even the strongest mutants incapable of slowing him down for more than a single moment.
Adorie was acutely aware that Hunger was purposefully pushing himself to the brink. It was as endearing as it was exasperating to watch him work himself to the bone time and again, yet she knew all too well just what motivated him to go to such lengths. He had explained that he was using the Realm to try and prepare the team for what might await them outside, but in his eyes she saw the reflection of nightmares that plagued her sleep.
Of a green tide that swallowed world after world and of empty-eyed victims whom she had failed.
That was why Lord Hunger had been fighting without rest, why her rival Queen had isolated herself in the forge, why Aeira, Letrizia and Aobaru were away sharpening themselves against their own challenges. And why Adorie was doing her best to support Lord Hunger at the same time as she tried to unearth further hints of Empyrean Signs from her books.
It was slow-going. Not in the absolute sense, for she was certain that she would only need a few months at most to construct the next Sign, but that was time they didn't have. They would need those results immediately after their release from the Realm, not in some nebulous future. In any other circumstances she would have felt proud of her fast progress, but now she only felt despair threaten to swallow her whole. The only thing she seemed to be good for was bolstering Hunger's endurance with her bloodline, but that paltry help provided no solution to their real problems.
And she was failing even at that simple task. Adorie could feel Hunger's labored breaths, his seemingly limitless vitality pushed to its limits by the uninterrupted fighting. Nilfel's Queen did what she could to reinforce her champion again, but she was exhausted herself and her focus faltered. Aobaru's Vigorflame infusion had long evaporated from Hunger's body and his Pressure was a pale shadow of its former self. His technique was as sharp as ever, but the force behind the swings couldn't penetrate as far.
His Ruin Armor receded and several mutated Armaments approached them, smelling blood in the water.
The copies weren't quite the real deal, some ephemeral quality missing from their massive frame that even Verschlengorge at his weakest possessed, but their power was sufficient to threaten Hunger at his best, never mind in his current state.
Their Shrouds pressed down upon them, promising annihilation. Time, space and reality strained under the weight of their combined Pressure, the Armaments acting in perfect accord as they approached the weary Cursebearer.
Deliriously she wondered if they would die like this, slain not by some terrible foe or an intricate plot, but by her protector's own magics. It would certainly be an ironic enough fate to amuse the Apocryphal Curse briefly...
The star of Hunger's Astral presence pulsed once, twice, then contracted as if trying to confine its influence to a smaller area in an imitation of his enemies. It pulsed a third time, then burst apart at the seams, its radiance once more blinding to the spiritual eye. It wound through Lord Hunger's body, a mirror of the Armaments' physical potential suffusing him instead of its earlier attempts to chain itself.
Now it was as if the past several days never happened, Lord Hunger emerging even stronger from his transformation, his Pressure sharper and his sword-arm even mightier. With but a few elegant strokes he dismembered the Armament imitations and disposed of the horde just as easily.
Adorie blinked in surprise, then giggled in relief, though her voice was tinged by envy.
Of course Lord Hunger wouldn't lose in a fight. His aptitude for sudden advancement was unmatched by anyone in this cosmos, she should have learned as much from their travels together. She had been worried for nothing-
Suddenly her champion collapsed under her as if a puppet with its strings cut.
"Hunger!"
"Hunger!" Adorie screamed as she scrambled off him and hovered over his fallen form.
"I'm, hah, alright," he waved her off, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.
Failure. Again.
One that did very well at masquerading as success, but this wasn't what he had been searching for.
The boost to his Astral Rank and bodily parameters was undoubtedly useful, but it was what they called a quantitative advantage, and not one that would let him cut through the Foremost Shard's bullshit.
The Work held the answer, this he knew. It wasn't even like he had to develop a new capacity, merely to push the limits of the technique that he had learned in the fight against the mountainous Rotbeast.
He had all the prerequisites. The Realm of Forms was easily accessible at any time with his advanced mastery of the Quickness Rune, the Artful Thorn streamlined into a cheaper form by his fight against Procyon, his senses and mind expanded well beyond what was necessary to target multiple enemies at once.
The only weak link was himself.
The Praxis was an unforgiving mistress. One did not merely learn Praxis spells as it might look to an outside observer. The Praxis had no support structures, no hard and fast rules beyond what he imposed on himself. The form its Runes took was simultaneously meaningless to others and of utmost importance to Hunger, for that was the language his soul used to speak to the world.
He shaped the Work and was shaped by it in turn.
And not even the best liar could deceive his soul. Hunger had done his best to push himself to his limits and to give his enemies a form that would remind him of what was at stake, but the burning necessity that had driven him to such heights previously just wasn't there.
He had two more weeks to train, and that knowledge sapped him of inspiration like little else. Perhaps memory alteration could have provided a temporary solution... but no. He knew instinctively that the Work couldn't be cheated so easily.
Hunger gritted his teeth and made to stand up again, but Adorie pushed him down again stubbornly.
"Hunger," she whispered. "I won't tell you to stop training, but please rest a bit? You will help no one if you kill yourself doing this."
Somehow he had the sense that the joke about it not being real training unless he died wouldn't go over well.
"Alright," he nodded.
"If you won't, I'll have to tell-", she started gathering steam, then halted and stared at him in incomprehension. "...What?"
"I'll take it easy and switch to something else," he rolled his eyes. Who did she think he was, some kind of battle maniac? Since his current methods weren't working, perhaps changing things up yield better results.
He sat down comfortably and motioned her to do the same. With a flicker of will he produced a ball of Edeldross n his hand and stared into its shimmering depths.
It reminded him of better times, of friends sitting around a campfire, of his first kiss, the memory untainted by what happened after. Once again Hunger marveled that his battered soul could produce something so pure and bright, but the uplifting warmth he felt coursing through his body didn't lie.
It felt like hope.
Perhaps that was the truest expression of his Element, the fragile feeling that withers beneath the weight of the real but can never be truly extinguished. Was that what his heart desired when he bathed in the Elixir Springs so many nights ago?
But it wasn't hope that had killed the Tyrant.
He crushed the ball in his fist.
"Gisena once told me that the magic of Myth always demands a price, and our later experiments confirmed this," he addressed Adorie. He avoided looking in her eye, knowing that she wouldn't approve of what he was about to propose. "I would say that the sacrifice of a personal Element should be worth a Sign or two to the Well."
"What?" she whispered. "You mean..."
"Edeldross has served me well so far," he said, words falling like stones, "but in the end it is a tool. And if a tool is ill-suited to its current task, a workman replaces it."
"NO!" Adorie shook her head in denial, as he had expected. "No, I'm sure that's not necessary, Hunger! Just give me some more time, I promise-"
He bit back the words he wanted to say. It wasn't about her. There was no time. He needed results, not empty platitudes.
They were all on edge, but that was no reason to lash out at his friends.
"I haven't decided yet," he said instead. "But it's one of the few viable solutions I've thought of. I'm all ears if you have other ideas."
There was a long, uncomfortable pause as Adorie sat and fidgeted in place.
Meanwhile he channeled the power of the Ring's Blood domain and guided the rivers of findross-infused blood remaining from his last battle towards the volcano. The Realm could generate the magical energy in prodigious amounts, but Gisena's labor burned through it just as quickly, so he often had to produce more in replacement. Thus the orc horde doubled both as a training aide and as fuel for the Sorceress' Artifice.
Idly he mused on the strange similarity of the magics he wielded. Accretion separated parts of himself and infused them into objects to grow them in conjunction with his legend. Soul Evocation allowed him to enforce a broad effect on reality as long as it conformed to his Evocation's themes. Surgecraft let him generate their own unique Element in massive quantities. The Praxis was intensely personal too, more so than any other Art perhaps.
In that regard only the Empyrean Signs stood out. It was not a formalized magic system and adjusted its spells to his needs, but in the end its source didn't spring from within. He had relied on Adorie both for research into Signs and for the wealth to feed his Cloak. He had repaid her in time, but there was still some lingering guilt-
"What are you doing?" he deadpanned.
Adorie was kneeling in front of him, her hands clasped in prayer.
"...please don't do it," she asked. "I don't know what to tell you to convince you otherwise, but please, don't give up something so important to yourself."
This was ridiculous. It was just a magic.
He said as much.
"No," she shook her head. "I've seen the way you look at it. It's much more than that to you. Please, I'm sure we'll find another way."
Looking into her eyes and seeing that unshakable belief in himself, he wavered.
But no. Closing his eyes he focused on the Well of power from which his Cloak's spells sprung forth. Unless he wanted to bet everything on Gisena, he had to expand his arsenal of tools, and the Evening Signs had provided weapons of war every time. It wasn't a certainty that he would get something useful for his current circumstances, but given past experiences the chances were high.
All he had to do was fill up the dry well.
Well?
If it wasn't for his latest advancement in Rank and if he hadn't been so focused on it, he likely wouldn't have noticed the change, but he could feel the Well refilling at an extremely slow speed. Tracing the connection back, he opened his eyes and looked at Adorie doubtfully.
The Queen of Nilfel didn't seem to be doing anything special. She still retained her former prayer pose and was staring at him in supplication, but that was hardly relevant?..
In a flash of insight he realized just what was happening and almost covered his face in embarrassment that it hadn't occurred to him earlier.
Why was it that platinum coins could refill the magical reservoir? He could make jokes about the Cloak's money-grubbing ways, but it wasn't about material wealth at all, was it? Adorie had explained it back then, how the magic of Myth relied almost completely on the quality of the Well's substance to perform its miracles. And what sort of energy could perform those miracles without conscious input?
Divinity.
What were the necessary components to restore expended divinity?
Prayer. Desire. Worship.
Not of a single person, but of a congregation. A city, a nation, a world.
Wishes to fill up a Wishing Well, wasn't it all too fitting?
"Um, Hunger?" Adorie asked nervously. "Why are you smiling?"
"I think I won't be sacrificing Edeldross after all," he told Adorie, his smile transforming into a smirk. "I believe I've found a better way."
"That's... good?" she smiled back hesitantly.
"Say, Adorie," he asked abruptly. "How do you feel about changing your title to God-Queen of Nilfel?"
Afterwards he had to spend quite a bit of time explaining to everyone that he hadn't gone mad with power, but at least there was a path forwards once more.
All he had to do was install himself and his companions as the new divine overlords of the Human Sphere.
Sounded like a piece of cake.
- Location
- Louisiana
Strife is fine, it's expected that hunger would spend the moment of crisis training himself. Dien isn't just a deadly enemy, he's a massive sentient war crime beyond even the tyrant. Who would hunger be if he didn't do his uttermost to improve and defeat Dien in his moment of respite? Strife+full throttle represents hunger pulling out all the cards to defeat an enemy he finds reprehensible.
OctarineShrike
Avatar of Mandos
My offer still stands. 1 marker 1 veto to the next 2 people to tag me with a switch to a ticket containing Full Throttle.
Zampano
🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈
- Location
- Simping for DSB
Strife & Full Throttle isn't winning. It's gonna be Strife + Critical Mass, with ? Arete spent on Grace / Halo creation.
Hunger of course has the inclination to do his uttermost, especially when there's such a charismatic and determined enemy as Dien. But thanks to the Apocryphal Curse there's always going to be something. There'll be a crisis, or a dilemma, or a complication. It is a major red flag that multiple lesser wishes doesn't reflect enough "cards" to get Hunger to relax in a realm of infinite luxuries.
We're already getting foreshadowing about fractures in Hunger's psyche: the FB's blade is "an extension of Hunger" that has literally been shattered, Hunger has commented about the strain of being back on campaign, and even before Dien we've gotten warnings about the Digital waterfall.
What I'm really saying here is: +Argument Strength (Epilogue Results)
Edit: Trusting Gisena isn't even *bad* in terms of the Epilogue! And Regalia of Strife / finally working diligently on Praxis is great for the Epilogue! But I think it is important to treat AST1 like that Adam Sandler movie, 'Click,' where every time he fast-forwards through an event that becomes the default setting for the universal remote. If we never pilot Hunger into some R&R, or never let Hunger get in the robot, then there's no reason to believe that it'll happen automatically between Quest End & the Epilogue scenes.
Last edited:
- Location
- Louisiana
There will be varying levels of collateral damage during apocryphal procs and I would put this on the very high end. I have no doubt that hunger as he is now could realistically defeat Dien somehow, but I worry about the collateral impact. There are times to rest even with apocryphal, but when hyper scaling biological monsters are at foot you kinda gotta buckle down and try to solve it as fast as possible. Especially when they're literally called out to echo the Tyrant.
Zampano
🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈
- Location
- Simping for DSB
I don't even disagree, but think about the diagetic explanation for Hunger's recent Patreon-funded advancements:
- Supreme Commander
- Refinement of War
- Attainment of Quickness (incl subordination of quickness)
- Trinity II (Feat: Orb)
These wishes are very Praxis-heavy, indicating that Hunger has regularly been doing "the hardest thing he's ever done" in the spare time surrounding his campaign against the Feeder Suns. When he gets to the Realm of Evening, he also launches into intensive echo-farming and 3-pick fights, on top of the potential Praxis training session where we might buy Closing the Fist if Regalia of Strife is attainable. And there's another 3-pick fight if we try for Mythology Halo (Renaissance, presumably).
All I'm saying is that the argumentation so far hasn't addressed the psychological fallout from the way that Hunger is using the Realm of Evening. The war is an important consideration, but it's not the only consideration. You don't have to bandwagon on A True Reprieve, but you should consider the way that Hunger's threshold of "when it is ok to take time off" has just been ratcheted upwards another notch or two (or three, if we're measuring in terms of Adorie's mental stability).
Failing to develop sufficient power to deal with Dien will have far worse consequences than a lack of rest. Hunger's thing is doing his Uttermost after all.
Zampano
🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈
- Location
- Simping for DSB
Yep. Omake power has ensured that barricade isn't viable, though.
Sure. I mentioned that I don't disagree with GN that this apo proc is hitting an unusually vulnerable point of our build (the Geas of Indenture). Sure.
But the point is that this Pillars proc also has ramifications for (1) Hunger & allies' characterization, (2) wordcount allocation to blurbs vs. fluff, and (3) epilogue outcomes. The argument about personal power doesn't hit as hard for this RoE jaunt because we have Lesser Wishes just piling up at this point:
Supreme Commander
Refinement of War
Attainment of Quickness (incl subordination of quickness)
Trinity II (Feat: Orb)
So if this RoE isn't the time to spend wordcount on +Mental Stability & Relationship scenes, then readers should also consider when is the right time? You don't even have to change your vote for this update, but you should consider how this update will affect Hunger & the voters in future updates.
Last edited:
- Location
- Louisiana
You've convinced me that mental stability should have a greater focus enough that I'll petition and argue heavily for it at the next available opportunity. I just believe the narrative implications of this particular apocryphal proc are severe, and failing here in any way after taking time to relax would have very negative effects on our mental stability, beyond what comfy now would give us. If enough people went for it I'd potentially swap to barricade, but even if not I agree that we should build up mental stability when we can. It's easy to always go "the situation is too severe" over and over, but you're right that something has to give eventually.
Zampano
🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈
- Location
- Simping for DSB
I mean, right now the plan is to pay 62 Arete on Regalia of Strife (probably) plus 28 Arete for Mythology Halo (probably). If we have 90 Arete to spend, wouldn't it be better to just make an edict that Dien isn't going to exterminate the Human Sphere?
(I don't have much more to say about the benefits. Edicts + Conqueror's Nimbus seems like a good combo, but Regalia taking the Tears of Winter from Adorie (?) seems like it's got antisynergy, which is something of a boost considering the thread's voting patterns...)
(I don't have much more to say about the benefits. Edicts + Conqueror's Nimbus seems like a good combo, but Regalia taking the Tears of Winter from Adorie (?) seems like it's got antisynergy, which is something of a boost considering the thread's voting patterns...)
- Location
- Louisiana
[X] Full Throttle
[X] Barricade of Myth
I want robot blurbs but I'll chip into the barricade bandwagon, I prefer it to the gisena option anyway.
[X] Barricade of Myth
I want robot blurbs but I'll chip into the barricade bandwagon, I prefer it to the gisena option anyway.
- Location
- 1
to be fair even if we don't do anything mental-stability-granting in this proc, what we show is that Hunger relaxes during roughly half of Realm of Evening procs, since he did last time. It's not like we'll be implying he never restores his mental state, just that it's not always, literally, his first priority.