[X] Vendetta
[X] An Ending True [20 + X Arete]


Not only is An Ending True's an option that we can afford with our present Arete total, it provides the best odds of victory in exchange for expending that stockpile, complete with a mechanism for funneling more in. That level of granularity's rare and well-worth capitalizing on, because this isn't a moment to hold anything in reserve for future purchases. It's a full thirty Arete more efficient than its nearest equivalent! It also comes with Task Leeway; Hunger won't instantly lose via failing Indenture if the Human Sphere is destroyed, currently one of the Maiden's greatest advantages. The Arcanist's expertise with Foremost Runes is also an immense advantage against the Maiden, who's prohibited from employing them by Equinox Lacing's drawback.

But to speak solely of strategy does this option a disservice, given the enormity of what it entails. The sacrifice of a companion - not her life, but her very identity - on the altar of victory, paralleling the moment of Hunger's greatest loss and triumph. He would never choose An Ending True himself. But Hunger's not the one choosing what level of Vendetta to execute, if Gisena's past behavior's anything to go by. This is the woman who could've gone Broken Kaleidoscope without consulting anyone, who sacrificed the Ring of Truth to awaken Hunger's Soul Evocation, who would've let Nilfel burn to improve his odds against Procyon, who unlike her alternate-universe counterpart had the presence of mind to employ her Final Grace against Jotarun of Yor.

Holding information in reserve, deciding to implement a self-sacrificial gambit on her own initiative... it's all quite in-character. An Ending True is her choice, not Hunger's. When all hope seems lost and even our hero's inexorable determination is insufficient, of course Gisena Allria would swoop in at the last picosecond, smugly proclaiming a solution to Hunger's problems. The cost to herself, irrelevant given the stakes; the poignance and similarities to what's come before, merely data points in her calculations. To deny her this is an affront to her self-determination. And would a genius choose anything other than the option that provides the best odds of victory?
 
[X] Vendetta
[X] An Ending True [20 + X Arete]


02's dead, damn it. I would've preferred the 50 Arete Fist option, but if we're debating half measures then I'm down for Pro Nihilo ex Gisena. Maybe it'll get Letrizia and Aeira off their asses and start earning their keep.

To deny her this is an affront to her self-determination. And would a genius choose anything other than the option that provides the best odds of victory?
Her Mary Sue insight transcends the fourth wall. This is both the last chance in-story and in-Universe to make a difference. It's literally just the best exit imaginable for her.
 
It's also a pretty good counter to the Catherine Resurrection gambit hypothesized before, or other similar attempts to aim at Hunger's psychological weaknesses. Counter trauma with more trauma!
 
[X] Vendetta
[X] An Ending True [20 + X Arete]

Every story spoken has been spoken before.

And to every story, There is always an ending.

Win. No matter the cost.
 
Only proves the point that 7th stage is kind of all you really need if you advance far enough. The fact that haeliel herself sees 8th stage as not worth the effort is telling. Full mitigation of the apocryphal curse is a beyond Herculean task, and if at that point the curse is largely just an annoyance? Maybe your efforts are better off pushed elsewhere.
She has the freedom to decide that her efforts are better spent elsewhere, after achieving full seven stages of direct mitigation, and god know how much indirect mitigation. After straight up getting so unreasonably strong Apo prolly has issues actually scaling up to her. Time and attention of HCB matters on a cosmic scale in the war that Accursed is waging, unlike whatever most everyone is doing.

Hunger, meanwhile, got two and a bit stages in him, and every Apocryphal proc is a deadly struggle even then. All of that is expected of him in that war right now is Not Dying so his infinitively small shard of Accursed own Apo curse doesn't end up going back.
 
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Current vote count? Perfect Merger voters may want to arrange a backup vote in case you guys don't get to 50 Arete!

And don't you think its a bit arrogant to not take Supreme Merger if you're voting for Close and do get the Arete? Why turn down such a powerful advantage for fear of downsides that will almost certainly be irrelevant?
 
You know, I think Hunger wishes to move on from his most dire moment. What great irony, to pursue Vengeance against the Hidden Ones by repeatedly suffering the greatest tragedy they inflicted on him. Is the cost of moving forward so great that it is worth once again to be defined by pain instead of heroic struggle? Futility, instead of development?

I don't think so. I'd rather Gisena continue fight with us instead of becoming another sacrifice in our heroic journey.

Also goddamn it, don't strengthen the Apocryphal Curse at this critical moment.
 
the Maiden is not an ISH-transcending hyper-entity like the Hidden Ones and the Arcanist that results from An Ending True probably can't scale up faster than Hunger will nor would it hate Gisena- nothing I'm aware of stops Hunger from, a bit after the events of the fight and some more scaling, resurrecting Gisena, mentally undamaged.
 
While theoretically just about anything is reversible in this verse, in practice self-sacrifice seems to hold a special meaning and isn't so easily undone. Even should Hunger grow to the point where recovering Gisena becomes possible, we likely won't ever see it in the epilogue. Her sacrifice would be important and impactful because it's so final.

I wonder how much of this decision would be caused by wanting to take Catherine's place in Hunger's memory, to stop having to compete with a dead woman. She probably isn't that petty, but the sacrifice is a bit too on the nose.
 
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Q quac quack quac qua qua Q'u quuaack
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a"
Aside from the artwork, I think that's 317 words of poetic omake content... even if all of it consists of the word "quack."

Current vote count? Perfect Merger voters may want to arrange a backup vote in case you guys don't get to 50 Arete!
I'm not even sure how that works without fatally diluting vote support for Perfect Merger. I long since lost track of how voting works in this quest.
 
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DA BOYZ: "You have your orders, Mr. Birdsie. Carry them out."

AABCEHMU: "Birdsie... what have you done?"

ME:



"She dies - I go free."

[X] An Ending True [20 + X Arete]
 
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"Qu'ac qu quuaacckk qu quac
Qua quac qua quack qua qu Q (qu Q)
You're god damn right!


The Build
A Winter Dynasty

[ ] Your Choice [+1, 0 or 2 Gifts] - oWoD (HI, End Times inevitable, though can be delayed),
[ ] The Overlord [+5 Gifts] -
[ ] The Seraph [+1 Heroic Favor] -
[ ] The Mandarin [1 Gift] -
[ ] The Genius [2 Gifts] -
[ ] The Princess [8 Gifts] - Outermost Lathe
[ ] Fisherman's Association Membership [+1 Gift] -
[ ] A Debt [+2 Gifts] -
[ ] A Sword [1 Heroic Favor] - *Synergist

Gleam
A single spark of light reflected by the Ever-bright Sword in epochs past. Stained by the virtue of All Creation's Oriflame, this photon strove to shine as bright and good as the Seraph. Charitable and kind, the Aspirant Ideal has recognized this reflected glimmer's vigorous efforts. Forged in a distant expression of the Vitalizing Flame, this photon has been shaped into the sword-form it so long desired. Now placed in the hands of a nascent hero, it will bring light to a world of darkness and kindle the flame to raise up a degraded Creation.

In appearance this sword-light is near indistinguishable from a common, if well made, blade. Close inspection would reveal that light cast upon it is reflected back a little brighter than it would otherwise be.

Synergist:
••• Illimitable Might of Heroism
That is, until it is wielded by the aspiring hero. In their hands the light it reflects is refracted through their Aura, that Outermost Lathe, and shaped into something more. In epochs past this blade reflected a single mote of the, yet aspiring, Aspirant Ideal and now this Outermost Large has been graced with the right to draw on that moment.
With tooling of supernal make it weaves the themes and myths of All Creation's Oriflame into its workings. While acting upon their Path of Heroism the hero's lathe is supplemented by the Illimitable might of heroism. Where before progress could be made by slaying noteworthy foes, now notable actions in furtherance of their heroic ideal provide a new avenue of advancement. The breadth of design which may be created by the Lathe is also expanded in accordance with the path found in the hero's heart.

•• Ill Crushing Light
Into the destiny granted by the Genius, the Lathe weaves strands in emulation of the Ever-Bright Blade's ill crushing light. No more does it solely oppose the death of its charge, now it stands against their every misfortune. Directing their fate, guiding their luck, opposing those harmful destinies imposed upon then, even turning aside the gaze of foes through confluence of circumstance, this is now the guardians' privilege. For impositions of grand scale, such as the Overlords Burden, the guardians natural mitigation is no greater than a decrease by 25%. However, for most lesser effects it needs to do little more than direct the wielders luck. Given the heroes supernal luck of 25 +'s this is enough to overcome most any trivial inconvenience and, directed by the farsighted gaze of the guardian, their luck is a potent power indeed.

Rational
Mechanically, the Sword expands the Outermost Lathe to allow it to provide hero-themed advancements when doing significant hero-like things. It also provides the anti-divination and anti-fate effects of Void, as well as protects against The various drawbacks and curses provided.
Inspiration is from the Haeliel Cursebearer Association Blurb, and the various options her themes enhance.
From the perspective of setting up this power with synergist it is effectively two gifts for the Void effect and then three gifts to replicate the Titans Abacus steady growth in all attributes effect. Concrete speeds are avoided. It, rather importantly, opposes the Curse of Vampirism, enough to feed reasonably well on fish blood.

Mandarin + Princess

20 Luck, 50 Cha, 50 App, 100 Might, 100 Prot

Doubled Outermost Lathe
Santa Monica by Night
Do not return until the task is done.

"Woo-wee! Look who we have here. A fledgling fresh fro-hey, kid, you alright?"

The man's voice barely registers. His rough, unkempt appearance devoured by the burning of my throat, the strain of my muscles. Dry as the desert my tongue tingles, sticks to my teeth and gums. Just working up the focus to speak is difficult when every thought turns inexorably to thirst and- "Drink. I need to drink."

I can almost smell relief, feel my teeth, strange and unfamiliar, as they ache inside my mouth. My eyes pass over the alleyway, seeing but barely comprehending dirty beige concrete walls, chain link fences. There's something familiar about them and I turn to the right, to a cul de sac formed by fences that span between buildings.

My drink is waiting for me there, pacing, beckoning me close with a double tap heartbeat and a bright white glow I can see through the walls. There are footsteps behind me – words that don't matter – as predator closes on prey.

It pounces, unknowable for an instant before it acts, and then it feeds on life itself.

My mind rises up on a tide of blood, like foam rising on the surface of a filling wine barrel.

"If you're gonna stop now's the time, kid."

Gruff and rough, the man's words elbow past introspective reverie. They draw me back into my body, to the taste of flesh on my tongue, the squish and copper heat of blood inside my mouth, the smell of cologne and sweat, the texture of a cheap suit against my hands.

I jerk back, tear my teeth free, roll off the victim's back, and retch.

The rough man howls with laughter. "Oh man, you should see the look on your face! This is fucking priceless. What are you, Ventrue? Too good for the homeless, can't even suck off a guy?"

Despite his words, still laughing, he holds out a hand. "Come on up Suckhead, there are a rough few nights ahead of you."

I take the offer, shivering and wrung dry once more. Blood still sticks between my teeth, but I cannot, will not, drink it down. "Thanks."

"The names Jack and, since no one else's gonna do it, I'll give you the rundown on your new night-life. You interested, kid?"

"Yeah, I'd appreciate it."

-------

Pain fills her like water, her wounds each pulsing wellsprings of heat that spill across her nerves. It drowns her, alone in that room, lying, twisting, squirming on the gurney.

She doesn't know how much time has passed, seconds, minutes, hours. Ever so often she hears the front desk ring with a new phone call, a crackling voice over the intercom, the hasty rush of footsteps that always pass by her door.

They're there again, shoes on sticky plastic-rubber flooring, taunting her as they come to the door and continue on to-

The door opens. "Hello, Miss Poe."

The voice -- the words -- brush aside her pain like drops of water on a countertop. For a moment they command her attention and she cannot help but obey.

In the door stands the most beautiful man she has ever seen. Impossible perfection given form, his presence brightens the room, makes something inviting and enriching of the hospital she was dying in moments before.

He steps inside and closes the door behind himself. It clicks shut and she remembers to breathe. A pulse of pain surges through her lungs and splashes over her thoughts like -- like water over a stone. There is nothing left to react, for she is all but spellbound.

"The doctors will not have time for you today." Says the man, voice steady and calm. "I would save your life in their stead, if you are willing."

"Please, yes please." The words tumble out without a moment's intervention. "I don't want to die, no matter what it takes."

"You will feel indebted to me. It may be difficult to resist."

To live she'd do anything. To help out this god she'd do much more.

-------

"Mercurio, I would assume."

"Yeah. Yeah, you the new guy? I heard you go sent here but-" a gasp of pain steals his breath.

I hold out the small bottle, pop open the top for the first time -- little snaps and pops resound as the plastic teeth that kept it in place pull apart. "They should help with the pain."

"Thanks." He mumbles clumsy fingers pulling it from my hands. The pills rattle and shake. Two white-grey tablets disappear down his throat within a second. "You, uh, keep these around."

"For situations such as this, I do." That seems to satisfy the man. Do you require anything else?"

-------

She finds the apartment just where he said it'd be. It- she hadn't doubted him, but she thought that maybe she'd misheard or… well, she's here now.

Her hand knocks against the door before she notices. Just like her feet, walking her up the stairs, or her thoughts sidling up to the memories she has of his voice and his warmth.

The lock turns. She can feel the rusty grind of gears and bolts through the flimsy wooden door. It opens, hinges squeaking but the motion smooth, revealing-

Her heart skips a beat, her breath catches, for a moment the world seems to freeze in place. Then she's smiling and filled with warmth all over again. "Hello. I'm Heather Poe. I wanted to thank you for yesterday. You saved my life."

The words come easy. They're practiced, studied, and prepared like all her presentations -- it's just about something more important than clothes, this time.

He looks at her, the man who saved her life. He's large, wide and tall, and heavy set. His skin is pale, paler than her own, paler than the aged plaster walls. It stands out against the crisp black lines of his suit, tailored to his frame, without a brand name. It's custom made, from fabrics she hasn't seen before. The way it moves and drapes over his body implies it's strong. There's something reserved about it and the way he wears it. Less like a statement and more like a comforting fallback. She's seen it before, from the private school boys who show up at college in a suit because it's the only uniform they've ever known. However, his eyes, brown and mottled green, devour her. Behind him the room is stark, lit by a single lamp, windows covered by blinds, kitchen unused. This isn't how he should live.

"You're welcome, miss Poe. It's good to hear that you are well, now."

"May I come in?" Words are slipping out too, it seems.

He blinks, languid and slow. "Yes. There are things you should know."

She finds a seat in the kitchen. There's only one, so it has to go to him. Standing by the counter isn't so bad when it lets her look over his room, his bed, his bathroom. If only she knew where to put her hands. "Is there anything you want? I don't have much, but if there's anything you want then I'll try to give it to you."

"I want many things, miss Poe. But, I think we should begin with you. Perhaps you have noticed that you healed far faster and more completely than could have been expected. Why do you believe that is?"

Her stomach twists like someone has put a stick into a soggy blanket and started turning until it's wrapped tight around the rough wood. "You fed me something. It was-" It was orgasmic, blissful, a high like hellfire and heaven's light squeezed into liquid form. "I think it was your blood."

The man holds her gaze. He takes his time. At the door, when he speaks, when he moves or blinks, it's very deliberate. "Yes. It was my blood. When I fed it to you it enhanced your healing. Now it provides a number of ancillary benefits. Within a month, perhaps two, your body will have metabolized it and its influence on you will pass."

She takes in his words, adds concrete information to the vague outlines in her mind. Blood, pale skin, blocked windows, "Are you a vampire? I wouldn't mind."

She really, really wouldn't mind at all.

He blinks, his eyes flicker across her face and the room around them. "Yes."

She smiles, doesn't squeal even a little bit. A vampire has saved her life. He's cold and taciturn, but not unkind. He could also use some interior decorating and a bit of fashion advice. There's a place for her here, an area she can fit herself into and enrich his life like he has hers. "Then, if you need my blood or some other kind of help, please come to me. I still have some of my student loans and I can work, or sell my things. It wouldn't be much, but what I have is yours now."

"Thank you." He pauses after he says that, gives his words time to settle in with the weight he thinks they deserve. She almost squeals again. "But, I don't want you to throw your life away for me, not for anyone."

That's very kind of him to say, but it isn't his choice what she does with her life. She's dedicated to him now, refusing her won't change that. Instead, she smiles. "Then I won't. I was going to become a fashion designer and if you let me I'll keep doing that."

"Please do." He relaxes. She can see it in the fabric around his shoulders, the way tension releases and small wrinkles appear.

"I'd like to meet my grandmother too. She's helping fund my college years. Normally I'd go on the weekends, but I can stop that if you don't want me to."

Now that she knows what he wants to hear it's easy enough to phrase things the right way. Every moment without him is a crime the world commits against her. But he wants to feel like she's well, that even as a monster he hasn't taken her life. The truth is her grandmother has become a tool, her mind and body too. It pleases him to believe she cares for them, so he will -- that's all there is to it.

"If you enjoy it then I would want you to maintain your relationship."

"Then would you like to meet her?" He should, Grandma is great.

A moment's pause, a moment to think. "Would she be awake at night? I would not wish to impose."

"If you work night shifts then she'll understand."

-------

The hand slaps across my face, flesh against flesh. It doesn't scratch me, doesn't even bruise.

"Mister Gimble, take a seat."

He does.

"Turn around."

He does.

I cut off his head. Problem solved.


2337 words
 
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Ah, the true villains of the quest reveals themselves... The voters.

But, for real. I understand that Gisena sacrificing herself would be compellingly tragic, a deeply emotional ending for certain... But isn't the goal of the Accursed, and by extension the Cursebearers as a whole, to do away with such tragedies? Seems like a surrender to allow such a thing to occur. Also @BrainInAJar what's your policy for if multiple people try to call in your vote markers on the same vote.
 
@Birdsie Your mistake is thinking that Da Boyz is the devil you made a deal with.

I will pay you cold hard cash, real money, to break your promise and vote for CtF. $20 converted to local currency via paypal, right now.
 
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