Malaquez
[MUFFLED EUROBEAT]
- Location
- Singapore
Anderson Quest: Killing Vampires and Werewolves and Leprechauns (Hellsing/Bloodborne)
- Thread starter Tricia
- Start date
Xantalos
Turtle-Speed Writing
Hey, if we point out to Ebretias that we only died last time when the guy who ripped our heart out also crushed it, I'm sure she'd agree to take a look for us.
It's perfectly sound logic. If we just take our heart out for like 20 seconds it won't kill us.
30 tops.
It's perfectly sound logic. If we just take our heart out for like 20 seconds it won't kill us.
30 tops.
- Location
- Canada
[X] Time fer some good ol' fashioned what-tha-fuckery to bring this to a close.
-[X] Beat tha shit outta it with a Placenta
--[X] Failin' dat, beat tha shit outta it with Ludwig's Holy Blade
---[X] Failin' dat, beat tha shit outta it wit' da Club o' Righteousness
-[X] Beat tha shit outta it with a Placenta
--[X] Failin' dat, beat tha shit outta it with Ludwig's Holy Blade
---[X] Failin' dat, beat tha shit outta it wit' da Club o' Righteousness
NuclearNickel
smug.jpg
- Location
- Bootes Void
somethingsomethingSERVETHELORDWITHFEARANDREJOICEITHTREMBLING
- Location
- Reno
- Pronouns
- They/Them
[X] Time fer some good ol' fashioned what-tha-fuckery to bring this to a close.
-[X] Beat tha shit outta it with a Placenta
--[X] Failin' dat, beat tha shit outta it with Ludwig's Holy Blade
---[X] Failin' dat, beat tha shit outta it wit' da Club o' Righteousness
-[X] Beat tha shit outta it with a Placenta
--[X] Failin' dat, beat tha shit outta it with Ludwig's Holy Blade
---[X] Failin' dat, beat tha shit outta it wit' da Club o' Righteousness
WinterLantern
Smoked bird
- Location
- North England
[JK] Time for a bit'o tha Irish charm *wink*
We don't need to actually remove our heart to examine it. Just crack open the ribcage like a oyster, and take a peak at the gooey bits inside.
Then just close it and let our regenerative abilities take care of the rest.
Give us a bone saw, a prybar, and we'll have things checked out in like five minutes, ten tops.
vs. Mergo's Wet Nurse: Falling Action
Though the both of you stumble over the streams of blood and broken bits of man, you reach the center of the arena first. As the creature slouches towards you, you extend your index finger and thrust it straight down in a message all warriors instinctively recognize. It nods, scrapes two of its remaining blades together, and redoubles its pace.
No tricks. No magic bullshit. No steps back. You are going to stand here and beat the shit out of each other until one of you falls over.
Maybe it figures this is the only way it can beat you. Maybe it doesn't have enough steam left to chase you around. Whatever the case, you pull out the placenta and welcome it to Thunderdome with a swing that nearly takes you off your feet. Something under the robes goes crack and its blades answer back with deep, murderous cuts along your upper body. You bellow, it screeches, and the two of you trade earth-shattering hits among the smouldering ruins. It's the sort of fight you live for, pure conflict unsullied by tactics or morality. You fall into the rhythm like a daydream or a fever.
One of its sickles takes out your eye at one point and you barely notice; it's not like depth perception matters when you know exactly how far away it is. You pull weapon after weapon from your sleeves, discarding them between strikes rather than readjust your balance. Ludwig's blade carves through the handle of one sickle, your club rips another clean from your foe's hand, and it frantically carves away at you as you put your entire body behind roaring pendulum blows. Each cycle leaves more of your flesh, blood, and bone behind, coal for a burner that's devouring itself.
And then, suddenly, you swing and the Wet Nurse isn't there. Your weapon carries you off your feet and into the jagged mess below. You sputter in the smoke and blood and wait on wavering hands and knees for the creature to behead you. When your head remains firmly attached to your neck, inasmuch as it can ever be said to be, you squint through the haze to see it crumpled on the ground, misshapen and torn from your onslaught. You're too busy struggling to breathe to come up with an appropriately pithy eulogy.
Beneath the baby's wails, the crackle of burning flesh, and the remnants of your left ear piecing itself back together, you hear soft footsteps from the entrance. You watch Yharnam visit each of her fallen men, or at least the largest pieces she can find, and bow. She gives you one as well, deeper than any of the others, before scooping her child into her arms. The two walk through the doorway and into the endless evening, her coos kneading the baby's cries into laughter, and you try to stand.
"Wait," you slur, "still gotta lecture ye about fuckin' a Great One before marriage."
A lantern rises from the earth as the world, like its fellow Nightmare before it, begins to come apart. You grab onto it and fall into its light just as the last of the colour is leached away.
You awake, whole but bone-weary, to the familiar sky of the Hunter's Dream. It's blindingly bright after the gloom of the Nightmare, and you keep your eyes shut as you stretch several dozen kinks out of your joints. With your best smile on, you open them back up.
"Hope," you call, "have I got a story for..."
The sentence dies on your tongue as you look to the end of the path and the heat washes over your face.
The Workshop is on fire.
"HOPE!" you shout, looking frantically about.
"I am here, Hunter Anderson," she says from behind you. You whirl to see her downcast, hands clasped together. Ebrietas sits beside her, arms and tentacles wrapped around herself.
"The dawn will soon break," she continues, speaking as though from a script. "This night, and this dream, will end. Gehrman awaits you, at the foot of the Great Tree. Go on, good Hunter."
[] Write in...
No tricks. No magic bullshit. No steps back. You are going to stand here and beat the shit out of each other until one of you falls over.
Maybe it figures this is the only way it can beat you. Maybe it doesn't have enough steam left to chase you around. Whatever the case, you pull out the placenta and welcome it to Thunderdome with a swing that nearly takes you off your feet. Something under the robes goes crack and its blades answer back with deep, murderous cuts along your upper body. You bellow, it screeches, and the two of you trade earth-shattering hits among the smouldering ruins. It's the sort of fight you live for, pure conflict unsullied by tactics or morality. You fall into the rhythm like a daydream or a fever.
One of its sickles takes out your eye at one point and you barely notice; it's not like depth perception matters when you know exactly how far away it is. You pull weapon after weapon from your sleeves, discarding them between strikes rather than readjust your balance. Ludwig's blade carves through the handle of one sickle, your club rips another clean from your foe's hand, and it frantically carves away at you as you put your entire body behind roaring pendulum blows. Each cycle leaves more of your flesh, blood, and bone behind, coal for a burner that's devouring itself.
And then, suddenly, you swing and the Wet Nurse isn't there. Your weapon carries you off your feet and into the jagged mess below. You sputter in the smoke and blood and wait on wavering hands and knees for the creature to behead you. When your head remains firmly attached to your neck, inasmuch as it can ever be said to be, you squint through the haze to see it crumpled on the ground, misshapen and torn from your onslaught. You're too busy struggling to breathe to come up with an appropriately pithy eulogy.
Beneath the baby's wails, the crackle of burning flesh, and the remnants of your left ear piecing itself back together, you hear soft footsteps from the entrance. You watch Yharnam visit each of her fallen men, or at least the largest pieces she can find, and bow. She gives you one as well, deeper than any of the others, before scooping her child into her arms. The two walk through the doorway and into the endless evening, her coos kneading the baby's cries into laughter, and you try to stand.
"Wait," you slur, "still gotta lecture ye about fuckin' a Great One before marriage."
NIGHTMARE SLAIN
A lantern rises from the earth as the world, like its fellow Nightmare before it, begins to come apart. You grab onto it and fall into its light just as the last of the colour is leached away.
You awake, whole but bone-weary, to the familiar sky of the Hunter's Dream. It's blindingly bright after the gloom of the Nightmare, and you keep your eyes shut as you stretch several dozen kinks out of your joints. With your best smile on, you open them back up.
"Hope," you call, "have I got a story for..."
The sentence dies on your tongue as you look to the end of the path and the heat washes over your face.
The Workshop is on fire.
"HOPE!" you shout, looking frantically about.
"I am here, Hunter Anderson," she says from behind you. You whirl to see her downcast, hands clasped together. Ebrietas sits beside her, arms and tentacles wrapped around herself.
"The dawn will soon break," she continues, speaking as though from a script. "This night, and this dream, will end. Gehrman awaits you, at the foot of the Great Tree. Go on, good Hunter."
[] Write in...
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Fuck that shit.
what do we do? This is pretty serious.
what do we do? This is pretty serious.
Send the Doll for a layover in Sleeveland as we escape?
- Location
- Elsewhere
It's here...
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] The Hell are you talking about? Ebrietas, what's going on? Why is the damn workshop on fire?
Tentatively, open to change.
Tentatively, open to change.
reborn214
Deep in thought
- Location
- California
Meet Gherman, because anything else is out of character?
I mean it is not like we know what Gherman is going to do IC. We just know that Gherman is waiting to talk with us.
We can try other stuff later after we talk with him. Unless you want to prepare in someway for a fight?
- Pronouns
- He/Him
That's ridiculous. The Workshop is on fire, Hope and Ebrietas are acting weird, it's perfectly in character to do something besides go see Gherman.
- Location
- Reno
- Pronouns
- They/Them
[X] The Hell are you talking about? Ebrietas, what's going on? Why is the damn workshop on fire?
Seems only reasonable to ask some very, very unhappy questions.
Seems only reasonable to ask some very, very unhappy questions.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
There's one extinguisher. There used to be two, then one was used as an improvised bludgeon against Ogopogo. And that's why Anderson isn't legally allowed in Canada anymore.
- Location
- Aurora Missouri
[X] The Hell are you talking about? Ebrietas, what's going on? Why is the damn workshop on fire?
LostDeviljho
Flame Dragon Princess
- Location
- The glorious Pacific Northwest
- Pronouns
- Any
[X] The Hell are you talking about? Ebrietas, what's going on? Why is the damn workshop on fire?
NeverDies
Classy Coleoptera ಠ_ರೃ
- Location
- Colorado
[X] The Hell are you talking about? Ebrietas, what's going on? Why is the damn workshop on fire?
-[X] Getting along like a house on fire is supposed to be a metaphor! I should know. The Pope told me himself after the third time a wing in the Vatican went up in flames.
-[X] Getting along like a house on fire is supposed to be a metaphor! I should know. The Pope told me himself after the third time a wing in the Vatican went up in flames.