Digging underneath the underneath doesn't seem to turn up any hidden meanings here. Just pleasant alliteration for an unpleasant gear check; we get in a fight and spam some blade projections.
The moment he stepped across the threshold, the doors boomed shut behind him. Uncanny speed, given how reluctantly they'd opened. He examined the gates for any latch or release mechanism, but there were none. Instead there was a sigil of a moon unfilled which hung over where the handles would be. Perhaps the gates could only open once a night, or worse, once per lunar month. He hoped it was not the latter. The gates were magnificent pieces of art and it would be a shame to destroy them.
As expected, classic dungeon behavior. At least it's kind enough to give a hint as to the unlock condition? A lunar month's absolutely not viable without favorable temporal shenanigans of some kind, we're screwed if the Apocryphal Curse triggers in here. Also, talking about destroying the gates makes me want to dredge up that old doubt.jpg meme. Maybe with enough time and stamina to whale on them, the Forebear's Blade's ruinous power would make a dent, but the Temple would deploy countermeasures first. Difficulty opening the front gate doesn't completely cut it as an explanation for the total lack of adventurers encamped there.
Before him was a vast marble entrance hall, part forum and part antechamber, flanked by carven pillars that rose skyward to the opalescent ceiling some ten stories above. The chamber was well-lit by enormous braziers of dark gray, each the width of three men around. The braziers housed crackling bonfire-flames that exuded the warm merriment of a cherished hearth, upright and proud as if boasting to the visitor of their migthy hospitality. There was no one else, no signs of life, not even stray vermin.
Should be mighty. This is quite a welcome wagon, though, the foyer's only missing a red carpet and refreshments. I hope who or whatever runs the place isn't as proficient in the art of war as they clearly are at pest control.
He began to walk. Onwards and forwards the entrance hall crept, half a mile or more in length, until slowly the marble bricks of the wall and ceiling began to fade before him. Bricks increasingly hung unsupported in the open air, a patchwork caricature of wall through which the blue of an unfamiliar sky shined through. As he walked further the entire hall bowed open, thinly populated "walls" and "ceiling" curving up and away, yielding to grass and sky.
This is a neat transition between zones, very easy to visualize. The Temple continues to be blatantly space-warping bullshit, but it's not defying the day/night cycle just yet. If we'd entered at daybreak to find nightfall within, then we'd
really have cause to worry. As opposed to our current situation, which is perfectly safe! But if it could defer dawn, then it might prevent restoration of our human form (though I think ~24 hours should work just as well?) or dodge the unlock condition on the gates to keep us trapped. I'll take passive spatial manipulation over active temporal shenanigans any day.
This was a wholly different landscape from that outside the Temple, a vast grassy plain whose sun was gentle and bright, a paradisiacal sweetness in the taste of the breeze. His ring hummed and he dropped into a crouch, sword held before him, but no enemies emerged. Instead the hum only intensified, a low mournful keening that steadily worsened over time.
Our adventures have taken us to some picturesque places so far. We didn't take either flavor of scenic route, but the quickest path was still a pastoral paradise that looked like something painted by Pissarro and ended with a massacre that wouldn't be out of place on a metal album cover. If you ignore the constant peril and need for paranoia, objectively we've had a pretty interesting time.
Something was calling to him, a will that was not quite an entity in its own right, but which nonetheless was suffering greatly. It begged for an end to its torment, to the great depth of exhaustion to which it was interminably forced, each scraping-away of essence like a screw driven endlessly deeper. It promised vast and bounteous power to whosoever tore it free, or merely put an end to its wretched existence.
That's concerning, calls to mind the Plumed Offering's endless exploitation. Is this the eponymous False Moon? But it's daytime, the Temple's not even 'active' right now. Will this condition worsen when night falls? Or can it only call out during moments of relative freedom?
He stepped forwards, in the direction of the call, and the hum lessened. He stepped backwards into the antechamber and it worsened. Suspicious.
Now that he was aware of it, he doubted the not-quite-scream of the Calling would desist even if he left the Temple. Perhaps Gisena would be able to dispel it, though his instincts told him that the Call itself could not be faked, could in fact be nothing less than the truth. There really was something deep in this Temple whose essence was being drawn upon endlessly, and which suffered terribly for it.
Hunger's instincts claim the Call can't be faked, when it's the Temple of the
False Moon? The Call intensifying when we step back? Ominous. To go full paranoiac, is this thing in some sense responsible for the message we found? You'd think it wouldn't recommend the most dangerous route for potential rescuers in that case. How sure are we that Rank intuition can't be spoofed? Also, the camp of adventurers; are any of them experiencing a similar phenomenon? Are their efforts driven by this unnatural compulsion and not greed? We don't know, because we didn't talk to them. I'm curious, but increasingly concerned.
The power of his ring was modulating the Call, clarifying its message while reducing its intensity, rendering it more comprehensible and bearable as well. Strange. The ring had never exhibited such powers.
But the Call was a distraction nonetheless. Best to resolve this matter before he faced the blue swordsman again. With the gate closed behind him, he would proceed forward. He'd return after nightfall to see if the doors would open, and cut them down only if they remained closed.
I'm guessing this is where Ring Affinity would come in handy, further clarifying the message we're getting. Maybe enough for words, or mitigating the down-Rank debuff so leaving isn't effectively suicide?
Having slain thousands of monsters on their path to the Temple, he was stronger and faster than he'd even been in this world, and many times tougher as well. And if forced to the absolute brink, there was one final card he could now play, power that transcended flesh and spirit alike.
He grimaced. The thought of it reminded him too much of his final blow against the Tyrant, an uttermost exertion of the self. The consequences of its use should not be quite as severe, but... he would use it only as a last resort. Only if all else failed.
Yeah, that's one technique I'm hoping we never reinvent, because with the Apocryphal Curse it's guaranteed to get us killed. Previously I'd wondered how the backstory-mandated sacrificial move would work with Accretion. Battle Mastery had Spirit-burning, the higher Seals could have sealed parts of the hero as their cost. This is closer to the former, burning the wick at both ends to go beyond.
He'd walked only a few minutes before coming upon a creature, a shadowy giant in gothic armor with an enormous blade sheathed against its back. As it sighted him it rose from the hill on which it was situated. It moved with a ragged exhalation, creaking of disused metal and the slithering of chainmail against plate. Without warning or preamble it attacked.
A Dark Souls enemy, in this environment? Well, I'll enjoy the pleasant ambiance while it lasts. The appearance is enlightening: disused, meaning it hasn't fought in a while? So other adventurers don't come here for whatever reason, or this is just a result of our lucky difficulty roll. Giants fit right in with the Temple's cyclopean aesthetic, Hunger's going to have to make like David. But as the saying goes, the bigger they are...
Despite its towering bulk it was fast, gray thunderbolt of smoke and force whose opening blow split the air as he ducked. Plunging his own blade into the monster's chest, he sprinted around the side to avoid the follow-through of its tremendous strike. Then calling his blade to him he stabbed its leg, where in a normal man its hamstring would be. The shadow-knight was unimpeded, nimbly leaping away, preventing him from hugging the inside of its reach.
Our own reach is terrible, since the Forebear's Blade is still a shard. That this thing's tactically adroit as well as big isn't a great sign.
He pressed the attack, an onslaught without hesitation or mercy, blade winds in a ghastly flurry tearing into its armor and through whatever passed for flesh beneath. Still it showed no signs of concern, barreling forward with terrible, redoubtable speed, its arm lashing out to grab him as he dodged. Caught in its armored claw he struck out wildly, seeking to sever the limb, focusing his energies to perform a spirit-rending stroke, but before he could finish he was dashed against the ground, pulverizing strength that tore muscle and cracked bone. Power enough to reduce an ordinary man to a blood-handed smear upon the grass. The protection afforded by his cloak had kept him alive, but only just. Every inch of his opponent's armor was imbued with ferocious might, magic that tore at the star-stuff of his shroud and thinned its impervious weave.
Without Fall of Night we can't afford projection spam against every adversary, although it's good to know that might & constitution boosts contribute to supernal stamina. This is rough, we're already burned through some of our reserves and attempted an unsuccessful Fell-Handed Strike. Every enemy seems like it's got auxiliary magic to punch through our mantle; someday, if we survive this,
someone's going to call in a mundane missile strike on us and be sorely disappointed. At least the Evening Sky regenerates and won't peace out like it did to its last bearer, but I can see an argument for Peerless Shroud based on this exchange alone. Magic's not a weakness we can afford in our defensive suite.
Unrelenting, it whipped him around to smash him into the earth again, but he ignored the damage, single-mindedly focusing on its arm even as its crushing grip splintered his ribs and broken open his torso. At last he carved through that Herculean wrist, extricating himself from its hand as it fell free. The knight withdrew, its enormous sword held in a warding position, slowly backing off as he charged forward, broken body shrieking at the imposition when they clashed. Diverting the force of the blow, he whirled and sprang up the monster's arm, sprinting across its armor as his blade lashed to and fro, launching blade-winds that spun and buzzed in circles around them, searching for any point of weakness.
Should be broke. Typo correction service, reasonable Arete costs, etc. No line separators this time, though! Anyway, that's a neat trick, but controlling the winds rather than just projecting sword slashes in a way familiar to anyone who's watched an action anime sounds expensive, stamina-wise. This is unsustainable, the knight's stronger and can take more punishment.
The knight struck him with the tree-trunk stump of its wounded arm, hurling him from its shoulders and into the hard-packed earth of the hill, even as his blade-winds descended, striking joints and gaps in the armor, preventing it from finishing the job. His body now ruined beyond repair, he quickly slew himself with a blade-projection and emerged as a being of spirit, dashing around to flank the knight with renewed vigor. A series of blade winds struck it in quick succession, each widening the wound that the previous opened, until one at last struck true and erupted out its other side, dark grey blood in an arterial spray as it found the creature's heart.
We're... really making up for our lack of mid-combat self-mutilation in EFB, huh? Going beyond, sacrificing not just limbs but
lives. We've even got the debuff to prove it. It's nerve-wracking but satisfying to read, reminds me of the old fights. Ishida against Barragan, bringing down the sky; Noboru overcoming Baihu's Celestial Sage Mode by a hair's breadth.
At last the monster seemed to quail, falling to one knee, palm upraised as if to plead for mercy. He approached it warily, but as he neared its stance tightened, lunging forward to crush him within its embrace. But his body of spirit was a lighter thing than flesh, and he darted lightly out of the way, twin projected thrusts striking its heart as it passed.
Hunger's experience saves the day where a more naive adventurer might've gotten suckered. Who says Ruthlessness isn't a beneficial stat? The attempted feint is worrying, though, as is the fact that these things can collaborate. If they're willing to die to inflict damage, teamwork of the same level as this thing's tactics would make fighting a group nightmarish. Before this is done, I suspect we'll really regret not having Feast of Lives. Nightmare Praetor's not that useful running gauntlets of murder; is the bonus even active now? That'd be one hidden downside of Wait and Hope, if so. Sleeping in the Temple sounds inadvisable.
Rather craven for a creature with the appearance of a knight. He leapt away, unleashing several further blade-winds to cover his retreat. Bleeding out, its tremendous vigor at last exhausted, it was unable to close the distance again, and slowly he whittled it down until at last it fell defeated to its knees. Taking no chances, he carved away with projected strikes at its chest until he could see its exposed heart, and finished it. Its essence destroyed, the armor fell inert, toppling slowly to pieces as the smoke within dissipated. There was a low, sepulchral boom as it perished, shock of force and sound like a tower-bell's final knelling.
I'm guessing this is what makes Slayer Knell unique to this enemy. It's an RPG chic upgrade, a stacking buff as you familiarize yourself with an enemy type until you can kill them in your sleep. Appealing with Brand of the Champion or if our Progression's trappings were more like Seram's. 'Armaments' could be a useful category, though there are no benefits for staying non-lethal, so we couldn't spar with Letrizia to prepare for the Human Sphere's inevitable mecha death squads. In Hunger's current straits, it'd be useful for Vanquishing the Pursuers, but only if the recent kill boost applies retroactively to this knight.
Discontentedly he surveyed its remains. Fresh power surged within him from the ring, but he could not bring himself to be pleased with what had just occurred. The monster-knight had been his superior in strength and speed, though only by a modest margin. What rankled was that it had forced him into his wraith form so easily, and its was only that form's superior agility that had carried the day. Had he been a being of flesh alone, this would likely have been the end.
Yeah, this was a cool fight scene, but I don't feel much like The Danger right now. But since we know the heart's the weakspot, if we take Swift as Death and stay in spirit form I can see us regaining that momentum with minimal need for luck. The healing's nice, we can tank minor wounds and just let the regeneration wipe them away. It's an effective boost to our already-enhanced constitution and it makes Second Stage less of a sidegrade. Still, spending 2 Arete on something that does nothing for our Currently Final Form but make us more likely to enter it's unfortunate. The stat-multiplication is the primary perk.
Movement on the horizon. Perhaps called by the death of their comrade, more ghostly knights had appeared, a dozen or more bristling with weaponry: curved blades and heavy pavises, pick-axes and enormous hammers, ballistas wielded as siege-crossbows, their cruelly barbed bolts glinting in the noonday sun.
One angled its crossbow upwards and fired, the bolt landing soft inches from his foot. He withdrew.
Fleet of foot and light of body, his ghost-form easily outpaced the clanking mass of his pursuers. Soon they disappeared over the far horizon as he returned to the antechamber-hall. He set himself down on the marble tile and looked out upon the idyllic fields. Hours more before nightfall, when he would test the gates once more. What now to do?
Regret our life choices? Wistfully contemplate our cowardly counterfactual self, whose biggest problem is wondering how to spend all the money he earned selling the pearl and scale? Hunger can't afford the luxury of hindsight, not when the only way out might literally be through. This is a do-or-die test of our tenacity and powers of Progression. A good kill from our Form of Rage alongside a 7 Arete upgrade could turn all this around, but right now? The Murderer's Panoply and its ability to scythe down enemies with discounted, septupled Fell-Handed Strikes at range looks appealing.
1335 words to help dig us out of our own grave. The index should also be up to date.
