Anderson Quest: Killing Vampires and Werewolves and Leprechauns (Hellsing/Bloodborne)
- Thread starter Tricia
- Start date
AnimalKrazed
Caw Caw!
- Location
- Above You
[X] Fuck it
-[X] Bible teleport
-[X] Bible teleport
[X] Fuck it
-[X] Bible teleport
-[X] Bible teleport
He has to have seen the location in person for long-distance. At short range, he can specify "X feet thataway."
And no, there's no chance of telefragging himself if there happens to be a desk X feet thataway.
Hyp3rB14d3
Gotta catch 'em all!
What about telefragging someone else if there's a fake Iosefka X feet thataway?
Welp. That settles it.
[X] Fuck it
-[X] Bible teleport
[X] Fuck it
-[X] Bible teleport
- Pronouns
- She/Her
If anyone's changed their vote, you should note it on the original post. @defenestrator you're one of them.
Not necessarily, really. The vote counter only counts the latest vote post per user and ignores previous ones with X'ed brackets.
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Alright then.
QuantumPuppy
Your Friendly Neighbourhood Phototograhpy Raptor
- Location
- The New World
[X] Fuck it
-[X] Bible Teleport
-[X] Bible Teleport
I think that's what the flying bible pages are for. They could detect if the targeted area is occupied by someone or something, slightly shift the location until its clear, then poofs Anderson in.
I mean it'd be really awkward if Anderson was summoned to the Vatican post-haste, then telefrags a Cardinal or, Heavens forbid, the Pope.
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Strunkriidiisk
THE LEGEND
- Location
- Canada
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Fuck it
-[X] Bible teleport
-[X] Bible teleport
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Alucard would have a field day with that one.
Evaunit02mark1
S-s-smell the Prey, S-s-start the Hunt.
Oh I've been waiting for this bitch here...
[X] Fuck it
-[X] Bible Teleport
-[X] Knife
-[X] Explosive Bayonets
-[X] Big ass Sword with a little sword inside it*, on fire
*to quote one Jim Fucking Sterling Son "Bloodborne is a game that lets you put more sword on your sword because you need Too Much Sword."
[X] Fuck it
-[X] Bible Teleport
-[X] Knife
-[X] Explosive Bayonets
-[X] Big ass Sword with a little sword inside it*, on fire
*to quote one Jim Fucking Sterling Son "Bloodborne is a game that lets you put more sword on your sword because you need Too Much Sword."
CryingHippocrates.jpg
Fuck it. Time to get to the fun part of inquisiting.
You flourish your hands and one of your many copies of the Holy Word falls open in your hands. The pages swirl and churn in a wind born of nothing but the righteous fury of their contents. Bearing you unseen in their embrace, they slice through the air, through every gap in her stalwart barrier. They coalesce with a roar before the stunned figure and you rise, massive and powerful and full to bursting with the wrath of God.
"For it is time for judgment to begin at the house of God; and if it begins with us, what will-"
She shoots you in the chest.
You look at her with abject loathing. "Is there anyone in this fuckin' city with the decency to let a man finish a bloody sentence?!"
As you admonish her, you size her up via your impeccable multitasking abilities (can do most things while planning and/or committing murder). She has about the same build as Iosefka, at least as far as you can tell beneath her voluminous robes, and she's got a face that would pass for the good doctor's with the right lighting. Closer examination drops it into the Uncanny Valley, though; she lacks Iosefka's tired eyes, instead looking at you with a cold, calculating gaze. In addition, it seems like her resemblance to Iosefka is a product of makeup as much as natural coincidence.
She planned ahead. She's a professional.
"Your body is terribly odd, Father Anderson. I can only hope that healing won't interfere with the vivisection," she says as she pulls out a cane. Without distance and the door between you and her, the differences between her voice and the real Iosefka's stand out clearly. It also helps that she's not bothering to disguise it anymore.
"Mighty big talk for a heathen who's too chickenshit ta open a door."
You fill your hands as she raises her pistol, weaving past a pair of of shots to close the distance. To your surprise, she stands her ground rather than retreat into the door and, as you swing, ducks and circles around you, effectively reversing your positions. She's light on her feet, cane held loosely and gun zeroed in on your center of mass. She's moving with practiced ease, a far cry from the rabble of the town or even the big man with the axe.
You're curious. Maybe even enough to just remove a limb or two rather than try to break your current "how many bayonets can I put in their torso before they die" record of 37. Although, to be fair, that WAS a wendigo and you can't reasonably hold humans to the same standards.
As you circle one another, what looks like a slug emerges from her sleeve and coils around her hand, translucent and dripping. In response, you slide a bayonet between each finger. You're sorely tempted to make a "salt of the earth" pun but are fairly certain she'd just shoot you again out of principle.
You have just enough time to throw the first set before an absolute shitload of tentacles slam into your chest. It's not quite as big a hit as the goatwolfgorilla dealt you, but it's still enough to knock you off your feet and raise what you're certain to be a gnarly bruise.
Where's Yumie when you need her? This shit would be right up her alley.
Thankfully, it seems one of your blades got past the wall of ick and embedded itself in her shoulder. Her stumble as the tentacles retract into the slug buys you enough time to regain your footing before she can press the advantage.
Still, seems like fighting at range might not be the best plan. Time to see how she reacts under pressure.
You rush once again, targeting her damaged arm. She tries to angle off and bring the gun to bear.
Not fast enough. In a swift motion, you pull the blade from her shoulder as you drive one into her thigh, sending her to the ground. Before she can fire again, you've lopped off the necessary fingers. You embed a pair of bayonets into the floor, criss-crossing her neck, and loom over her.
"So now that we've gotten ta know each other, how's about we chat?" you offer. She whispers something in response. "I am not fallin' for that 'lean in so I can say something cool before I escape' horseshit. Speak up."
"Fine."
You note that a second slug, much fancier, has joined the first one around her hand. Considering what the last one did, it probably has something to do with that gaping void growing above her head.
You have a newfound appreciation for the slugs back home. At least they just mess up your garden and creep out the kids (and Maxwell).
[] Hit the deck
[] Make distance
[] Go for the slug
[] Write in...
You flourish your hands and one of your many copies of the Holy Word falls open in your hands. The pages swirl and churn in a wind born of nothing but the righteous fury of their contents. Bearing you unseen in their embrace, they slice through the air, through every gap in her stalwart barrier. They coalesce with a roar before the stunned figure and you rise, massive and powerful and full to bursting with the wrath of God.
"For it is time for judgment to begin at the house of God; and if it begins with us, what will-"
She shoots you in the chest.
You look at her with abject loathing. "Is there anyone in this fuckin' city with the decency to let a man finish a bloody sentence?!"
As you admonish her, you size her up via your impeccable multitasking abilities (can do most things while planning and/or committing murder). She has about the same build as Iosefka, at least as far as you can tell beneath her voluminous robes, and she's got a face that would pass for the good doctor's with the right lighting. Closer examination drops it into the Uncanny Valley, though; she lacks Iosefka's tired eyes, instead looking at you with a cold, calculating gaze. In addition, it seems like her resemblance to Iosefka is a product of makeup as much as natural coincidence.
She planned ahead. She's a professional.
"Your body is terribly odd, Father Anderson. I can only hope that healing won't interfere with the vivisection," she says as she pulls out a cane. Without distance and the door between you and her, the differences between her voice and the real Iosefka's stand out clearly. It also helps that she's not bothering to disguise it anymore.
"Mighty big talk for a heathen who's too chickenshit ta open a door."
You fill your hands as she raises her pistol, weaving past a pair of of shots to close the distance. To your surprise, she stands her ground rather than retreat into the door and, as you swing, ducks and circles around you, effectively reversing your positions. She's light on her feet, cane held loosely and gun zeroed in on your center of mass. She's moving with practiced ease, a far cry from the rabble of the town or even the big man with the axe.
You're curious. Maybe even enough to just remove a limb or two rather than try to break your current "how many bayonets can I put in their torso before they die" record of 37. Although, to be fair, that WAS a wendigo and you can't reasonably hold humans to the same standards.
As you circle one another, what looks like a slug emerges from her sleeve and coils around her hand, translucent and dripping. In response, you slide a bayonet between each finger. You're sorely tempted to make a "salt of the earth" pun but are fairly certain she'd just shoot you again out of principle.
You have just enough time to throw the first set before an absolute shitload of tentacles slam into your chest. It's not quite as big a hit as the goatwolfgorilla dealt you, but it's still enough to knock you off your feet and raise what you're certain to be a gnarly bruise.
Where's Yumie when you need her? This shit would be right up her alley.
Thankfully, it seems one of your blades got past the wall of ick and embedded itself in her shoulder. Her stumble as the tentacles retract into the slug buys you enough time to regain your footing before she can press the advantage.
Still, seems like fighting at range might not be the best plan. Time to see how she reacts under pressure.
You rush once again, targeting her damaged arm. She tries to angle off and bring the gun to bear.
Not fast enough. In a swift motion, you pull the blade from her shoulder as you drive one into her thigh, sending her to the ground. Before she can fire again, you've lopped off the necessary fingers. You embed a pair of bayonets into the floor, criss-crossing her neck, and loom over her.
"So now that we've gotten ta know each other, how's about we chat?" you offer. She whispers something in response. "I am not fallin' for that 'lean in so I can say something cool before I escape' horseshit. Speak up."
"Fine."
You note that a second slug, much fancier, has joined the first one around her hand. Considering what the last one did, it probably has something to do with that gaping void growing above her head.
You have a newfound appreciation for the slugs back home. At least they just mess up your garden and creep out the kids (and Maxwell).
[] Hit the deck
[] Make distance
[] Go for the slug
[] Write in...
Hyp3rB14d3
Gotta catch 'em all!
[x] Nail one of her legs to the ground with a bayonet.
[x] Make distance
[x] Make distance