Buds are not literal buds, just extra connections to the same shard. So if the shard is disabled, all the buds are disabled too.
Alchemical Solutions [Worm/Exalted] Thread 24: Xenial Xenos Xerox Xanthous Xiphos
@FallenPears a large part of conflict drive is host selection, so it's more like a symbiote with target selection for hosts likely to be short lived.
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Ekzentric Lohner
I miss Wildstar...
They must actually reproduce at some point. In the beta doc chat, [Edit: on second thought, I probably shouldn't share things from there that aren't explicitly stated in the story].
Side note: finding the right word to suggest using for a shard's biological sex took much more googling than I expected.
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-Poor Saki.
Insufficient Lore, Bureaucracy AND Occult to wrangle her shard.
One has to wonder if Autobot set it up that way to incentivize her to learn.
Not everyone is Taylor, after all.
-Interesting that a shard drops Saki's Essence reserves by about 9%.
Changes her optimal build somewhat.
I actually do wonder what the effects of SoTI's healing power will have on a captive shard.
Or what Accord's shard will think when he gets out, it hooks up and sees the records of an imprisoned shard.
Or if Ciara's shard will suddenly behave better if it gets to see Ciara's memories of another shard in shard prison.
-SoTI certainly is ambitious. Imprison ALL the things
One does have to wonder what it's doing over in Autochtonia. Is Oberashti currently incarcerated in Sakura's section of the
-Still not sure why we're assuming harm to other people from removing a shard.
After all, Cauldron outright state that they CAN remove powers from vial users who break certain rules, and there's no apparent other issue.
And it's canon that Queen Administrator moved from Danny to Taylor before her trigger.
C53s who rely on their shard to stay alive might have an issue. Others though?
-Prayer is still in Clarity?
Is this Clarity due to job trauma, or is she still ducking Bladedancer?
Because if so, Saki is going to throw them both into Lord Grasp and keep them there.
-Lol Aisha.
Makes every scene better the moment she opens her mouth
CORRECTION
Should be somber. Or serious.
*******
Note that that has changed before.
Plus, some of the more recent events in Ward seem to contradict that particular WoG.
I think there's multiple paths for buds.
Some buds are just refinements or extra connections for an existing shard meant to be-reincorporated at the end of the cycle as part of a shard's personal growth, and probably don't split off at all.
Other buds are divergent enough that they're different and have a shot at becoming actual new shards sometime down the line.
Some buds are just refinements or extra connections for an existing shard meant to be-reincorporated at the end of the cycle as part of a shard's personal growth, and probably don't split off at all.
Other buds are divergent enough that they're different and have a shot at becoming actual new shards sometime down the line.
I figure that as Entities are hive structures and so are shards...the boundary between Linked Ally Unit and Self Unit is very fuzzy.
RoninSword
Sky God
- Location
- Canada
BURN THE THREAD DOWN!
Taylor's already going to be displeased when she gets back from her "vacation". Let us give her no reason to turn her Not AmusedTM gaze upon us.
Ekzentric Lohner
I miss Wildstar...
Did a bit of rereading and noticed a few inconsistencies:
A few random thoughts:
If Ciara was already uninterred and in Lord Grasp while Saki was at school, why did Saki need to uninter and give her to Lord Grasp again after her after-school meeting with Uriel?
Saki and the other Wards returned from vacation last night in-story, before Aisha & co. took down Valefor. She wouldn't need an order to return from vacation because she was already back from it, and there's been less than 24 hours since Saki first encountered Mama's Dybbuk-projection so she shouldn't have been getting pings against her ISF "these days" - did you mean "today" or was she getting pinged all the time by something else while she was on vacation?
Was Saki exaggerating how clear the difference was to Taylor back in 10.1, or is this a mistake in 10.6?
Is there some sort of threshold for how much blood the floor can simply absorb, or is this a retcon for how the prison handles spilled blood?
A few random thoughts:
- I have this vague idea that Debok Moom's personality is a blend of Brian Blessed, both Mythbusters, and the announcers in monster truck rally commercials (you know, the ones that always start with "Sunday! Sunday!! SUNDAY!!! At the [Something]-Dome!" and have at least one shot of Robosaurus eating a car). His dialog is probably written in Impact font. I haven't a clue where this idea came from.
- I can't figure out what would be funnier - Iris on PHO writing eloquently-worded long posts in contrast to the compressed [COMMUNICATION] we see him sending Taylor over her familiar bond, or Iris always posting a single image or video that gets his point across instead of text.
- Now that he has Willpower (with a capital W), Accord can force his shard-inflamed OCPD to STFU. Now, he can do something when interviewing potential Ambassadors that he was never capable of before...
Just before each candidate's final interview, they pass through a hallway outside Accord's office where the frame of one of the art pieces on the wall is ever-so-slightly tilted. From his office, Accord watches though a camera to see if the interviewee 1) notices, 2) attempts to fix it, and, most importantly, 3) makes sure to use the tiny carpenter's level built into their custom multitool (issued at the beginning of the interview process) instead of trying to eyeball it. He gives no indication that he watched what they did on the way into his office, but he remembers. It will effect whether or not they are hired; if they are hired despite doing poorly on this last test, it will slow their subsequent advancement until they react correctly when the scenario is presented again before their next performance review.
After each interview, when the candidate has exited both the office and the hall outside, Accord nods to Othello, who (nervously) has his invisible friend re-tilt the frame. The Ambassadors who knew him before he got ensouled are freaked out. Accord feels a quiet but fierce joy in not wanting to kill over this that drowns out the irritation at knowing a frame on the wall is tilted. Finally, he is truly in control...
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NotInventedHere
MSV, Desert Class
- Location
- UK
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Was just catching up with the story and I noticed this back in part 6 - I think there's a word missing here, possibly "back" or "fur". There's not anything in the previous paragraph that I could spot that makes sense as the target of that "Mister E's".
Gromweld
Learning By Mistake
Merry Christmas, everyone!
Sorry for the hiatus, as escalating family medical issues, a promotion at work, and my impending move to a new residence have annihilated my free time and overall energy levels. I'll be moving the weekend of January 18th, but I hope to at least put a little something out on the 6th Year Anniversary of the Quest's start on January 16th.
Have a Happy Holidays, and I'll see you all in 2020!
Sorry for the hiatus, as escalating family medical issues, a promotion at work, and my impending move to a new residence have annihilated my free time and overall energy levels. I'll be moving the weekend of January 18th, but I hope to at least put a little something out on the 6th Year Anniversary of the Quest's start on January 16th.
Have a Happy Holidays, and I'll see you all in 2020!
Omake 01: Glorious Scientific Problems
Gromweld
Learning By Mistake
Happy 6th Anniversary, Alchemical Solutions!
In celebration, here's something... different.
Omake 01: Glorious Scientific Problems
Blinking in the darkness, you breathe a sigh of relief. What was that, four times you blacked out from… whatever the hell was going on with your senses? At least it seems to have stopped for the moment. That you can breathe at all is another pleasant surprise - you don't detect any more smells…
Terror overwhelms your strange bout of Clarity as you try to flail your limbs in hopes that someone will hear the noise and come to your rescue before you pass out again. Unfortunately, you no longer seem to have limbs. Or a body. How did you sigh before, then? What's going on? Is this a dream?
MOST CERTAINLY!
The single tick of a watch's second-hand. Dozens of ball bearings tumbling along with the barest of friction. Hundreds of hammers shaping white-hot metal. Thousands of conveyor belts trickling down an assembly line. Millions of gears seamlessly twisting in perfect harmony. Billions of unfathomably complex machines genuflecting in prayer to their creator and master. The voice that washes over your mind is all these things at once, and more. You are overwhelmed but not terrified, for even though your brain struggles to comprehend the concepts that comprise the voice, you recognize a tone of… manic exuberance?
"Wha-? What's going on? Who are you?" You blurt out. How are you even talking, let alone thinking straight after what you've just been through? You simultaneously want to cheer in elation for being out of the locker, wretch in disgust at the recollection of the event, and wail in despair that you may now be in an even worse situation.
WELL, YO- *ahem* you blacked out after filling those weak, fleshy respiratory organs of yours with biologically hazardous vapors. Again!
The voice is overwhelming in its power, tossing you about like a broken-winged bird through a swirling hurricane. With no point of reference in this black, empty void, you struggle to keep conscious as the pressure ebbs and flows with each word.
Of course, I completely understand what you're going through! It's like those times Theion… oh. Hmm. No, I don't think your mind could handle that imagery right now.
A pause, but with each word you're either getting better at handling the power washing over you, or the voice is... weakening, somehow.
So... right! Yes! Good news! You're dying! Welcome to the club!
As overpowering the sensations and odd... feelings… that course through you with every word are, it still takes a moment to process the meaning of the words burrowing their way into your mind. When you finally do, however, the titanic presence around you seems meaningless in the face of the shock:
You are dying. Sophia, Madison, Emma… they've killed you.
You never antagonized them, you never attacked them, you never even retaliated, yet they've only gotten worse and worse for no. Fucking. Reason. You've not given much thought towards what you want to do with your life, but now... now you refuse to let it be wasted so pointlessly.
Clarity washes over your mind. Cold. Efficient. Ruthless.
"No."
The name-calling. The pranks. The locker. The bugs. These are trivial nuisances.
"If I die, they win."
Emma, the Betrayer. Sophia, the Instigator. Madison, the Cover. Only relevant as examples of how far Order has fallen, to allow such behavior.
"I will not die."
The other kids that did nothing. The teachers that looked away. The legal system that would undoubtedly fail to find evidence to convict them of your murder. Systemic corruption that must be purged if there is to be Order.
"They will never win."
There is silence, the as if you have somehow taken the massive presence filling the universe around you by surprise.
Well… that's… certainly one way- oh, I knew I should have used the Core to do this! Now where did I put that-
The face of your grim determination is suddenly assaulted by an almighty clamor, as if someone has just opened a celestial-sized tool cabinet only for the contents of it to come spilling out everywhere. The overwhelming presence recedes slightly as you feel it searching for something.
Then, just as suddenly, the chaotic sound of clashing mechanisms halts and the presence returns full-force.
Right! Now! This will only hurt for less than a second!
"Wha-"
***
Your eyes snap open in the coffin of filth that is your locker but there is a burst of light in front of your face as something slams into your forehead and then there is nothing in the Universe but PAIN.
***
A light breaks over the empty horizon; a light of burnished brass, shining silver, and gleaming gold. The planet rises slowly, a clockwork sphere of inescapable beauty, wonder, and potential.
Oceans of shimmering oil, clouds of billowing steam and wispy smoke, forests of radiant crystal, all parts of an incomprehensibly massive, mechanical world.
The majesty of which is completely ruined when it opens like an enormous, gear-studded eye and blinks at you vacantly.
OH! You're awake already? You're ahead of schedule!
The eye of the Deus Machina swivels slightly and the enormous iris of the Primordial focuses on your formless being, driving all conscious thought from your mind.
I had this fantastic, ominous- I mean inspiring speech written up for you, too! How are you even conscious after assimilating all those other-… oh. Hmmmmm…
Narrowing its lid as it studies your bodiless existence, its planet-sized scrutiny evokes a feeling of all the times you didn't have a homework assignment to turn in on the due date.
There's… only one of you in there?
For a brief moment, a flash of concern fills the eye… but just as quickly the eye's lower lid stretches up in the approximation of a massive eye-smile.
I mean- Of course there is! No cause for concern, my Chosen! I'm sure that won't cause any issues with compatibility! And we can just patch any problems later on through the Design!
Your mind, still reeling from the divine power hammering at your fragile, wavering soul, manages to crystalize around a single thought. A single word.
A word that your bodiless consciousness projects into the empty void around you:
"What."
The planet-sized oculus narrows its lids in an approximation of a scowl before the eye itself briefly rolls backwards in exasperation.
Mmmh. Irreverence. This is what I get for rushing such a delicate project. Not to mention your reality is simply too pale and weak to have prepared you for My magnificence. Sadly, we don't have the luxury of leaving anything unclear right now and soul-injected visions have a tendency to be taken far too... metaphorically.
There's a pause as the voice seems to shudder with distaste at that last word, then the empty void around you fills with the thrumming hum of a continent of machinery running calculations. After a few seconds of this, it all stops with the sudden DING of a typewriter reaching its end-of-line.
Ah, of course! Why didn't I just start with that!? Nevermind-
The massive eye swivels back to focus on you, and for the briefest of moments you see the infinite, mechanical tapestry of the world-body come to a stuttering halt.
Initiating transfer… NOW!
Pressure, pain, and vertigo all assault you at once as your senses feel compacted-
***
You open your eyes.
You are in your locker.
You are in your empty locker.
Not just empty. Clean. You're not sensing bugs (though you're not sure why you remember that), either. You do get a whiff of an industrial cleaner, though from the strength of the smell they either had to use significantly less than you would have expected or that the smell has had time to dissipate.
You're not quite certain how they would have gone about cleaning the damn thing with you still in it, so there's definitely something strange going…
…a clockwork sphere of inescapable beauty…
Your feeling of rejuvenation and mental Clarity sinks sinks into the floor as you realize you likely have had a psychotic break. You've read about this before - trauma victims returning to the scene of the tragedy in fugue states.
Well, at least the locker door is open. Ah, and it's night time as well. You step over the small little mess of flowers that your door scattered everywhere, then-...
The feeling of pressure and vertigo rushes back in a wave, but this time it coincides with ominous, vibrating hum of industrial machinery working in the far, far distance. You scrunch your eyes closed and hold your head as it feels like it's splitting in half, taking a half-step to the side as it feels like this is all coming from behind you-
With the thundering crack of a million circuit breakers all overloading at once, you're bowled over as something rockets out of your locker and plows into you hard enough to carry you the several feet needed to slam you straight into the lockers opposite your own. You bounce off the row of lockers with a shattering crunch of old and rusted metal, then crumple to the hard, cold, tiled floor.
The headache and nausea vanish almost a quickly as it returned, bringing with it a Clarity that is shocking in its suddenness. You blink in surprise at how… good you feel? What-
Ugh.
You freeze. There's no way you could forget that… voice, even if it's not battering your soul with every syllable. And now it's not coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once, it's coming from...
Looking down to the basketball-sized lump of metal that probably should have broken most of your bones with how hard it hit you, even in the pitch darkness of the nighttime school hallway you see the glimmer of brass and gold and other expensive metals coating the ball with impossible filigree.
And then it shifts in your arms, a seam erupting halfway across it that splits open to reveal the entire thing as a large mechanical eye. The camera-shutter-like iris takes a few moments to focus on you, slowly gaining a golden glow as the entire mechanical orb seems to come alive at the same time.
Ah, it grunts, squinting in a way that makes you think it's nodding in satisfaction at you. You didn't explode upon re-entry. And your personal reality isn't causing a cascading fault through this reality. Excellent.
You stare back and swallow uneasily as you try to understand that.
"... what-?" you try to begin, before a bracing gust of cold air on your skin makes you shiver… all… over…
You leap to your feet, chucking the talking orb away in violent shame because this is much more important.
"My- my clothes! What happened to-"
Trying to cover yourself finds skin of a much different smoothness and texture, and far more… you than you last remembered. You look down again, and for the first time actually recognize that this is not your old body.
"What's going on?! What-"
This is not your old voice.
You spin around to where you tossed the talking metal ball, only to find it floating in the air a few feet away. It regards you with a mixture of approval and scientific curiosity that makes you immediately suspect that this... all of this... is all its fault.
"You! Did you- what did you do to me?!"
The corners of the eye's lid twist upward in a way to make it seem like it's smiling benevolently at you.
Fear not, My child! For you have been Chosen! By ME!
A dread feeling coalesces in your gut as all the lessons given by your schools, your teachers, your parents, and the PRT echo in your mind about crazy capes. Except it's not fear you're feeling… no...
You're done being afraid. You're done being weak. A victim.
"... and who are you?"
As if it had been waiting for that question all along, the eye beams.
I.
Literally. White-and-gold strobe lights and lasers cascading out of its shell to give it a godly, halo-like aura.
AM.
The lightshow reaches its crescendo along with a crackling of electricity running along the ball's exterior, giving it an air of power and majesty.
AUTOCHTHON!
The world shudders at the declaration for a moment, before the sound fades and the world seems lesser for it.
Never before have you seen a basketball-sized mechanical eyeball look so smug.
So you punch it.
***
In celebration, here's something... different.
Omake 01: Glorious Scientific Problems
Blinking in the darkness, you breathe a sigh of relief. What was that, four times you blacked out from… whatever the hell was going on with your senses? At least it seems to have stopped for the moment. That you can breathe at all is another pleasant surprise - you don't detect any more smells…
Terror overwhelms your strange bout of Clarity as you try to flail your limbs in hopes that someone will hear the noise and come to your rescue before you pass out again. Unfortunately, you no longer seem to have limbs. Or a body. How did you sigh before, then? What's going on? Is this a dream?
MOST CERTAINLY!
The single tick of a watch's second-hand. Dozens of ball bearings tumbling along with the barest of friction. Hundreds of hammers shaping white-hot metal. Thousands of conveyor belts trickling down an assembly line. Millions of gears seamlessly twisting in perfect harmony. Billions of unfathomably complex machines genuflecting in prayer to their creator and master. The voice that washes over your mind is all these things at once, and more. You are overwhelmed but not terrified, for even though your brain struggles to comprehend the concepts that comprise the voice, you recognize a tone of… manic exuberance?
"Wha-? What's going on? Who are you?" You blurt out. How are you even talking, let alone thinking straight after what you've just been through? You simultaneously want to cheer in elation for being out of the locker, wretch in disgust at the recollection of the event, and wail in despair that you may now be in an even worse situation.
WELL, YO- *ahem* you blacked out after filling those weak, fleshy respiratory organs of yours with biologically hazardous vapors. Again!
The voice is overwhelming in its power, tossing you about like a broken-winged bird through a swirling hurricane. With no point of reference in this black, empty void, you struggle to keep conscious as the pressure ebbs and flows with each word.
Of course, I completely understand what you're going through! It's like those times Theion… oh. Hmm. No, I don't think your mind could handle that imagery right now.
A pause, but with each word you're either getting better at handling the power washing over you, or the voice is... weakening, somehow.
So... right! Yes! Good news! You're dying! Welcome to the club!
As overpowering the sensations and odd... feelings… that course through you with every word are, it still takes a moment to process the meaning of the words burrowing their way into your mind. When you finally do, however, the titanic presence around you seems meaningless in the face of the shock:
You are dying. Sophia, Madison, Emma… they've killed you.
You never antagonized them, you never attacked them, you never even retaliated, yet they've only gotten worse and worse for no. Fucking. Reason. You've not given much thought towards what you want to do with your life, but now... now you refuse to let it be wasted so pointlessly.
Clarity washes over your mind. Cold. Efficient. Ruthless.
"No."
The name-calling. The pranks. The locker. The bugs. These are trivial nuisances.
"If I die, they win."
Emma, the Betrayer. Sophia, the Instigator. Madison, the Cover. Only relevant as examples of how far Order has fallen, to allow such behavior.
"I will not die."
The other kids that did nothing. The teachers that looked away. The legal system that would undoubtedly fail to find evidence to convict them of your murder. Systemic corruption that must be purged if there is to be Order.
"They will never win."
There is silence, the as if you have somehow taken the massive presence filling the universe around you by surprise.
Well… that's… certainly one way- oh, I knew I should have used the Core to do this! Now where did I put that-
The face of your grim determination is suddenly assaulted by an almighty clamor, as if someone has just opened a celestial-sized tool cabinet only for the contents of it to come spilling out everywhere. The overwhelming presence recedes slightly as you feel it searching for something.
Then, just as suddenly, the chaotic sound of clashing mechanisms halts and the presence returns full-force.
Right! Now! This will only hurt for less than a second!
"Wha-"
***
Your eyes snap open in the coffin of filth that is your locker but there is a burst of light in front of your face as something slams into your forehead and then there is nothing in the Universe but PAIN.
***
A light breaks over the empty horizon; a light of burnished brass, shining silver, and gleaming gold. The planet rises slowly, a clockwork sphere of inescapable beauty, wonder, and potential.
Oceans of shimmering oil, clouds of billowing steam and wispy smoke, forests of radiant crystal, all parts of an incomprehensibly massive, mechanical world.
The majesty of which is completely ruined when it opens like an enormous, gear-studded eye and blinks at you vacantly.
OH! You're awake already? You're ahead of schedule!
The eye of the Deus Machina swivels slightly and the enormous iris of the Primordial focuses on your formless being, driving all conscious thought from your mind.
I had this fantastic, ominous- I mean inspiring speech written up for you, too! How are you even conscious after assimilating all those other-… oh. Hmmmmm…
Narrowing its lid as it studies your bodiless existence, its planet-sized scrutiny evokes a feeling of all the times you didn't have a homework assignment to turn in on the due date.
There's… only one of you in there?
For a brief moment, a flash of concern fills the eye… but just as quickly the eye's lower lid stretches up in the approximation of a massive eye-smile.
I mean- Of course there is! No cause for concern, my Chosen! I'm sure that won't cause any issues with compatibility! And we can just patch any problems later on through the Design!
Your mind, still reeling from the divine power hammering at your fragile, wavering soul, manages to crystalize around a single thought. A single word.
A word that your bodiless consciousness projects into the empty void around you:
"What."
The planet-sized oculus narrows its lids in an approximation of a scowl before the eye itself briefly rolls backwards in exasperation.
Mmmh. Irreverence. This is what I get for rushing such a delicate project. Not to mention your reality is simply too pale and weak to have prepared you for My magnificence. Sadly, we don't have the luxury of leaving anything unclear right now and soul-injected visions have a tendency to be taken far too... metaphorically.
There's a pause as the voice seems to shudder with distaste at that last word, then the empty void around you fills with the thrumming hum of a continent of machinery running calculations. After a few seconds of this, it all stops with the sudden DING of a typewriter reaching its end-of-line.
Ah, of course! Why didn't I just start with that!? Nevermind-
The massive eye swivels back to focus on you, and for the briefest of moments you see the infinite, mechanical tapestry of the world-body come to a stuttering halt.
Initiating transfer… NOW!
Pressure, pain, and vertigo all assault you at once as your senses feel compacted-
***
You open your eyes.
You are in your locker.
You are in your empty locker.
Not just empty. Clean. You're not sensing bugs (though you're not sure why you remember that), either. You do get a whiff of an industrial cleaner, though from the strength of the smell they either had to use significantly less than you would have expected or that the smell has had time to dissipate.
You're not quite certain how they would have gone about cleaning the damn thing with you still in it, so there's definitely something strange going…
…a clockwork sphere of inescapable beauty…
Your feeling of rejuvenation and mental Clarity sinks sinks into the floor as you realize you likely have had a psychotic break. You've read about this before - trauma victims returning to the scene of the tragedy in fugue states.
Well, at least the locker door is open. Ah, and it's night time as well. You step over the small little mess of flowers that your door scattered everywhere, then-...
The feeling of pressure and vertigo rushes back in a wave, but this time it coincides with ominous, vibrating hum of industrial machinery working in the far, far distance. You scrunch your eyes closed and hold your head as it feels like it's splitting in half, taking a half-step to the side as it feels like this is all coming from behind you-
With the thundering crack of a million circuit breakers all overloading at once, you're bowled over as something rockets out of your locker and plows into you hard enough to carry you the several feet needed to slam you straight into the lockers opposite your own. You bounce off the row of lockers with a shattering crunch of old and rusted metal, then crumple to the hard, cold, tiled floor.
The headache and nausea vanish almost a quickly as it returned, bringing with it a Clarity that is shocking in its suddenness. You blink in surprise at how… good you feel? What-
Ugh.
You freeze. There's no way you could forget that… voice, even if it's not battering your soul with every syllable. And now it's not coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once, it's coming from...
Looking down to the basketball-sized lump of metal that probably should have broken most of your bones with how hard it hit you, even in the pitch darkness of the nighttime school hallway you see the glimmer of brass and gold and other expensive metals coating the ball with impossible filigree.
And then it shifts in your arms, a seam erupting halfway across it that splits open to reveal the entire thing as a large mechanical eye. The camera-shutter-like iris takes a few moments to focus on you, slowly gaining a golden glow as the entire mechanical orb seems to come alive at the same time.
Ah, it grunts, squinting in a way that makes you think it's nodding in satisfaction at you. You didn't explode upon re-entry. And your personal reality isn't causing a cascading fault through this reality. Excellent.
You stare back and swallow uneasily as you try to understand that.
"... what-?" you try to begin, before a bracing gust of cold air on your skin makes you shiver… all… over…
You leap to your feet, chucking the talking orb away in violent shame because this is much more important.
"My- my clothes! What happened to-"
Trying to cover yourself finds skin of a much different smoothness and texture, and far more… you than you last remembered. You look down again, and for the first time actually recognize that this is not your old body.
"What's going on?! What-"
This is not your old voice.
You spin around to where you tossed the talking metal ball, only to find it floating in the air a few feet away. It regards you with a mixture of approval and scientific curiosity that makes you immediately suspect that this... all of this... is all its fault.
"You! Did you- what did you do to me?!"
The corners of the eye's lid twist upward in a way to make it seem like it's smiling benevolently at you.
Fear not, My child! For you have been Chosen! By ME!
A dread feeling coalesces in your gut as all the lessons given by your schools, your teachers, your parents, and the PRT echo in your mind about crazy capes. Except it's not fear you're feeling… no...
You're done being afraid. You're done being weak. A victim.
"... and who are you?"
As if it had been waiting for that question all along, the eye beams.
I.
Literally. White-and-gold strobe lights and lasers cascading out of its shell to give it a godly, halo-like aura.
AM.
The lightshow reaches its crescendo along with a crackling of electricity running along the ball's exterior, giving it an air of power and majesty.
AUTOCHTHON!
The world shudders at the declaration for a moment, before the sound fades and the world seems lesser for it.
Never before have you seen a basketball-sized mechanical eyeball look so smug.
So you punch it.
***
Hail to the Machine God!
*Reads*
Oh, this'll be good. Hi there Abridged!Autobot.
RoninSword
Sky God
- Location
- Canada
My understanding is that since he is as big as he wants to be, he could be that size while still having his entire civilization inside.
Well then...
Well then...
TaliesinSkye
Occasional Editor
- Location
- Northeast Ohio, United States
I mean, it's pretty much what Exalted were built for.
Autobot: Hold still while I fix your everything.
Scion: [Fear]
...
Oh good grief.
I wondered why it'd been so long since I saw an update for this.
I apparently didn't set the new thread on the Watch list and thought I had.
Oh good grief.
I wondered why it'd been so long since I saw an update for this.
I apparently didn't set the new thread on the Watch list and thought I had.
Spectral Waltz
Scatterbrained Writer
- Location
- Walking the Endless Corridors
...
Oh good grief.
I wondered why it'd been so long since I saw an update for this.
I apparently didn't set the new thread on the Watch list and thought I had.
Wait, what? What new thread!? Where!?