It began, the herculean struggle between man and beast, the test of patience and timing, of placement and cunning, a contest of wills as much as of strength. Prey and predator were united by hunger as well as happenstance: the fish, to nibble at bait without surrendering its life, and the man, to seize his prize before the lure dissipated.
This goddamn update. The start of the legend. The birth of the meme. The story that gave way to both innumerable tears and pure moments of happiness.
The start of fishing memes.
Overcome by the moment, defiant against the fates and the world, he spent of himself recklessly, drawing forth every iota of power to bend lake and denizens to his will. His instincts pierced the waters like a great refulgent eye, and the tantalizing gleam and dance of his bait was as a thing of gold, made precious and inescapable by the will of his spirit.
We didn't have the ring of blood back then, or any special esoteric power besides. This was Hunger exerting pure spiritual pressure on the lake; honestly, this is a decent showcase of the power of raw Rank in action.
Oh. And the magical bait I guess. Go Go Go gadget accretion, and Letrizia later dared to say we are not a wizard.
"I-is all this really necessary?" Letrizia shouted, barely audible over the circle of winds that whipped around him, an intemperate halo.
The voice of common sense
"Go Hunger! Feed us, yay!!" Gisena cheered, bouncing lightly in place. She'd come over to witness the spectacle, pausing her ominous work on Verschlengorge's missile array. Hair and dress alike fluttered crazily in the wind; he wasn't sure how she could see.
Gisena no
There. A sharp tug and jerk on his line, sudden force as if to pull the rod from his hand.
A big one.
"Shounen music starts playing"
He stabilized, setting one foot against Verschlengorge's finger to resist his opponent's strength. Hook, line, rod and man bowed taut under the strain, a single parabola of exertion that bound them to the leviathan below. Pressure alone held line and rod together against the forces transmitted; in mortal hands they would long since have snapped.
Yet another demonstration of the versatility of rank.
This was no ordinary fish. He, who had the strength of ten men on a poor day, whose line and rod and hook were infused with the power of ruin, was being pressed to the uttermost limit. He sensed deep power here, vigor beyond the limits of muscle and scale. Down below, beneath the windblown chop of the lake surface, he caught a glimpse of movement, an opalescent shimmer that tugged the eye even as it fled.
Goddamn
fishing
minigame
All these JRGP monsters in every corner, sheesh. I wish we'd at least get something good out of it, but we didn't even get any picks for this majestic struggle.
"Gisena!" He roared. "A magical beast!"
She came up beside him, pressed between the fingers of the Armament. Indiscriminate fire would dispel his Pressure and the rod would snap immediately. Carefully she raised her arm and found an angle, open palm launching Null bolts rapid-fire into the depths below.
In the end, she did get to fire something into the lake, even if it wasn't explosives. Still, waves of Null is even better from some perspective.
Moments passed. Gisena shook her head, hair trailing distractingly across his nose and cheek. "It's shrouded by some supernatural murk. I can't get a good lock on it."
That time when goddamn fish had supernatural abilities enough to overcome Gisena's magic eyes of seeing magic.
He grunted, arm livid with strain. The steel wire of the line was beginning to fray visibly, and the wood of the rod was shot through with cracks. Sheer will held them together. He needed a plan.
Age and Treachery once again prove dominance against all comers!
Including fish. Also notably, we can hold Accretion artifacts together with pressure.
"I'm going to pull up," he said. "The rod won't last much longer regardless. When I do, fire a wide area attack into the lake. As soon as it passes, I'll give you the rod. Hold the line as long as you can."
More of Gisena indiscriminately firing her null waves into the lake. Honestly, at this point might as well allowed her to use explosives.
"Okay," she nodded, not bothering to ask for an explanation. An orb of concerted Nullity formed around her hand, a thrumming distortion that cleared the appearance of the air rather than twisting it.
Nice visual description of Nullity.
"Now!" He heaved upwards, arm and implement pressed to the breaking point, the hollow, scraped-out reserves of his personal might rallying one last time. The fish resisted him, it tugged and thrashed with a congealed river's worth of force, but was pulled skywards in the end, at last visible beneath the waves.
This reads like fight with Vanreir. At least fish didn't punch us in the liver once we got it out.
Gisena swept her arm, Nullity in an arc released before her, catching wind and wave and fish alike. As that rippling translucence passed through, the beast spasmed once and began struggling even more fiercely, but the strength of its movements was lessened, now mere muscle and sinew.
When Gisena failed to be useful? That's right, never. Pretty consistently, too. If only she also stopped this madness here and then, I couldn't even say one bad word about her.
He handed over the ravaged rod and plunged into the water.
Hunger no
Don't jump into the enemy's home territory
It was a great iridescent creature, near serpentine in length, fanged maw snapping impotently at the waters around it. Striations of texture and color crossed its body in thick bands, pearly scales of amber, violet and pale blue that contrasted with the glittering mass of its main body.
This is a goddamn monstrosity and Hunger jumped down in the water to punch it and wrestle until it is done. This was more than a little insane.
His hook had dug deep, disappearing down its gullet, and dark crimson blood plumed steadily from its mouth. Even now, denied its supernal primacy, it raged in furious consternation, without a hint of fear in its ruby eyes.
At least we are getting some of that brutal Hungry punching things to combat from this. Pity we wouldn't be getting much of that now that the reality-sundering blue of Praxis Sword is now our main attack weapon.
He smiled. It was overlord of this idyllic stretch, the biggest fish in this inland pond. As had been the Tyrant himself, in light of such beings as the Accursed.
Even in this, Hunger's psychological damage shines.
Although this whole endeavor was crazy from the start so what is one more moment of comparing a fate-defying overlord with a fish fish.
Hallowed energies swam about as it began to recover from Gisena's assault. Swiftly he drew the Forebear's Blade and in one fluid motion plunged it into the creature's gills. Its scales were dense, layered and overlapping like lacquered armor, but physical necessity left these unguarded. As it writhed, he sent a pulse of chopping force out through the blade and into its internals, then twisted cruelly, sending a second strike towards its brain.
Fell strike once again proves to be the MVP of everything forever. It is just good when your damage deal is actually meaningful, and does not let enemies to go "no, that's just a flesh wound." If we nicked Vanreir with this, we'd might have actually won without too much trickery.
It flailed once, desperately, and went still.
07 you exhaustion-inducing monstrosity. May you not rest in piece ever, in whatever watery grave your land. May your dreams be forever filled with bad status afflictions.
Moments later he emerged from the lake's surface with the beast strewn across his back. Its bulk was heavy across his shoulders, head flopping down to his elbow, while its muscular tail dragged sullenly against the ground.
This is funny to me.
"You did it!" Gisena exclaimed, running down to join him.
"Not... going to take credit... for this?" He panted.
"No," she replied, eyes bright. "Unless you want me to. It's only been a few hours; did you miss my teasing already?"
"I... am going... to lay down." He said, walking up the grassy incline. Upon reaching level ground, he set the fish atop it and sprawled out beside, breathing heavily.
This is also funny to me.
Fuck. He still had to get in the robot after this.
This is so incredibly funny to me I can't read this without smiling.
He should not have done that. It had been an almost completely pointless endeavor. The purpose of this jaunt had been to rest, not to tire himself further. And yet, as he looked at the magnificent catch beside him, he couldn't help but feel that it had all been worth it.
Yes, except we vote to go on and keep indulging Hungers tendency to just CUT THROUGH from here onward at pretty much opportunity. Goddamn Uttermost was such a suitable buy for us.
Gisena peered down at him, amused, while Letrizia came around to admire the catch.
"You find this... funny?" He asked, still breathing heavily.
I find this funny.
The Sorceress smoothed out her dress and sat down beside him. "You tell me, hero. What part of this isn't funny?"
He grunted, raising himself on his elbows, but Gisena placed one delicate hand on his chest and pushed him back down. "Oh no you don't. Rest now, you've earned it."
And -now- she is the voice of common sense. After she encouraged hunger to go exhaust himself on a fish hunt for a reward that is barely worth our attention.
At least we got the memes out of it.
She smiled slyly. "Or... would you prefer to lay your head on my lap? Fellow Sorceresses tell me it's very comfortable. Our standards are the very highest!"
"Hmph." He closed his eyes. "Arrogant and a liar too. Why do I put up with you?"
She laughed. "Using my own lines against me? How shameless, hero!"
"You don't deserve original lines."
"Hm? And what would one do to earn such an honor?"
"First, catch a legendary fish."
"Well then." She stretched prettily, then got up and stalked around to the other side of the fish. "Perhaps I'll take credit for this one after all."
More of Gisena Hunger banter. They banter nicely.
As Gisena inspected their catch, he let out another deep breath, staring upwards at the sky.
Twilight had come to their corner of the Voyaging Realm. The sun dipped slowly down the horizon, incandescence like molten wax pooling atop the waters. Above was the first encroachment of the evening dark, faint tracery of the moon and stars, the world grown hushed and still like an expectant audience. Atop his finger the ring of power shined, a burning jewel, a wound in the world from which no recovery was possible, light like blood spilling into the slowly dimming dusk.
I wonder how sun and moon actually work in this realm. We are in some sort of a strange pocket dimension of absolutely humongous size, normal relationships with planetary bodies should not apply... But somehow they do.
Also
>wound in the world from which no recovery was possible
>Recovers it to the state of Ring of Blood barely a few days later
Progression is pretty brutal at overturning little impossibilities like this.
Scraps of shadow, like inverse fireflies, fluttered around the ring-light, orbiting it steadily. Residue of the pirate captain's armor, the Astral equivalent of blood on his knuckles.
Somebody posted a picture wondering about what sort a person the pirate was; it kind of got me curious. Sadly tho, that is really that sort of curiosity that will just never ever get sated. At least that suit of armor was really curious.
He frowned, thinking slowly. Was there some way to capture that power? Harness it, as he'd done to the Forebear's Blade and Tyrant's Ring? He needed some form of supernal protection. The armor's abilities had been impressive, even if its loyalty had been lacking.
Strictly speaking, Blade grants stances, that could have been protection enough. We also could have bounded an armor prototype or even armament, but we decided to bind an artifact early. In retrospect, that might have been an overly hasty decision.
But he was unusually skilled at abducting the artifacts of others and binding them to his cause. It was the only field where he'd surpassed the Tyrant definitively. Ring and Blade were willful items both, difficult even to command. And yet he'd succeeded completely, united his will with theirs until there was no distinguishing them. Physically they were discrete objects, but in the realm of spirit they were one being, free of discontinuity. Were his physical form to perish, would he live on in them as a remnant?
Probably not. He was too weak still. Something to strive for in time. Couldn't let death impede his vengeance.
>Ghost Hunger starts killing people like two days later
That said, we are still pretty far from Nyong's ability to sprout anew, reborn and renewed from his utterly indestructible Ring of Power. Hunger had some measure of that ability in his old armor, apparently, but it is not entirely clear if it could potentially revive him from nothing, only that it kept him from dying as long as it was intact. It also was decidedly not indestructible.
Exhausted as he was, he focused again. Remembering how it had felt to lure the tyrant-fish to him. The shape of the Pressure he'd had to exert, its tenor and form. He remembered the hue and spill of that pirate's armor, ink the violet of midnight that rose in steady streamers.
The night sky's incursion against sun and blue.
Under suitable conditions, crafting of an accretion artifact takes basically nothing, is my takeaway. Wish we could apply that to outfit our party members, but no... We had that one chance to give Gisena a gown, but it also wasn't a proper accretion artifact of her own, I think. Very sad.
Evening approached; there was no better time than this. He clenched his fist, and the ring that bore his name flared red, light so bright as to rival the setting sun, and slowly the scraps of shadow surrounding him began to multiply, drawn by the gravitation of the one who had defeated them.
This was a pretty great moment. Hunger pulling the sky and making a mantle of it is just one of the best moments accretion allowed in this quest. This is why I kind of abhorred Battle Magic getting it; dnd-esque 'game'y aesthetic of it all was never going to compare to something nigh-mythical like this. But for accretion, it is the core theme.
He grasped them, wove them together with his magic and will, usurped them and made them his own. From the jewel of his ring burst forth a cloak, wrapping up and around his arm to rest upon his shoulders. It was the stars and the evening sky, a texture like billowing clouds, the fall of its drape a velvet window into night. Power infused him, boundless and inexorable as the evening itself: against which mundane force could find no purchase, and resilient against stranger assaults.
Not a wizard. Yeah.
Well, this was a cool event. I hope we'll get to make something like this again, this had a night-mythical feel.
Contentedly he closed his eyes. Properly outfitted at last. He recalled the final dictates of destiny, hours before the Tyrant had slain its oracles -
So that was a thing that happened. Tyrant stopped fate, or mitigated its influence on the world and then inflicted a societal and cultural change on whatever land he ruled; I cannot imagine oracles not wielding massive cultural or political power.
Treasures numbering three,
Ought hero's panoply be.
Crown, Saber and Orb,
Shield, Symbol and Sword,
Blade, Mantle and Ring;
Aloft to murder a king.
King Fish. Aloft to murder. Next you'll tell me that we killed some sort of a
Tyrant Fish, the fate-defying overlord of a local pond. Saved some poor fishy hero from a need to sacrifice itself in a last blaze of glory while their wife throws themself into the maw of tyranny.
It was a childish rhyme, and meaningless. But a cloak - a mantle - was more comfortable than armor, and its magic protected all the same. Let this be their victory as well, they who had first given themselves to shield him from the Tyrant's regard.
Nothing is meaningless when Fate and Destiny are real, moving forces of the world. That said, Hero apparently went for a suit of plate over a mantle back when he fought tyrant, so maybe this one does not matter terribly much. Or maybe it simply signifies how little hold the fate held over him in his struggle over Tyrant?
---
You are currently Exhausted, unable to exert Pressure in most circumstances, though the abilities of your panoply remain active. Needless to say, if attacked you will be at a significant disadvantage. A day's rest will render you merely Tired.
It would be damn great to get a buy that further mitigates the severity of these conditions, considering how often the slam into them face-first. Uttermost accomplished some work in that direction, as did Star, but it far from sufficient.
And yet, a hero's work is never done. What now to do?
Time to go dive into a evil moon temple, and argue for 400~ pages of virtues of SAVE vs NOT DIE.