Remove ads

Godcard

Reader mode
Birdsie said:
Do you know pain? Do you know sadness inside of your brain? Do you know hate? Do you know rage? Do you know how it could drive you insane?

Since AST has ended, I might as well start poaching Rihaku's regulars...
Click to expand...
Click to shrink...
I can only have a slight taste of it meself just by looking at the walls of art, text, and memes as a nameless anon surfing through Rihaku's work. But the resulting Gang Wars and duels over there...
 
the following was originally going to be a joke about a God Of Dead Forum Things, but I couldn't think of a time they'd actually stop to read the rectangles and see they said 'AST isn't dead', 'terrascape isn't dead', 'DTJ isn't dead' etcetra so it just reads like a mostly serious fight scene.
the card playing is theoretically Zuchezzi 2 switching from fear to dead forum game things but /shrug
There was a rush of air. Almost on instinct, Zane dodged to the side, and not a moment too soon- something, rectangular, white and dark grey, crashed into the pavement where he'd been standing. It was obvious, then, that there was shenaniganry afoot. Magical powers didn't imply competence, though, and he'd bet his left hand it implied overconfidence. He might still have a chance.
One of the brothers waved his hand, and Zane stumbled to the side from a gust of wind. He cursed, then ran forwards, narrowly avoiding another falling rectangle. Despite the bravado above, he wasn't exactly confident. It's not like the Zuchezzis were fresh blood, after all.
Zane blinked, coming to a stop out of simple shock. Was he seeing things? because it sure Looked like one of the brothers was messing around with playing cards. Completely ignoring him. That couldn't be right, could it? Probably an illusion, considering this shenaniganry. The other brother waved a hand, and Zane ducked, mostly avoiding the oddly contained gust. Right, active combat. keep moving. He picked up a piece of shattered pavement and starting moving forwards again, tossing it at the nonchalant brother without breaking stride.
The thing slammed into another rectangle, but this time it was pointed lengthwise and he got a chance to see what it said - something about an acronym and dead. He couldn't finish reading it, though, because a gust of wind tipped it over in the next second and he had to backpedal. He still didn't know what was going on, but now he knew those rectangles could be moved, and as the saying goes, the floor is made of floor. Whatever the rectangles were made of could obviously stand up to itself, so- but the rectangles clearly weren't light, there was no way he could use that in combat. Zane discarded the idea, dodged another blast of air, and the follow-up rectangle. The brothers were clearly well-coordinated, despite their nonchalance, but that might be a good thing. One of them was using their powers without moving, but the other one kept waving his arms like some kind of conductor- easy to spot, and easy to notice. And hard to do with a fist in your face. So Zane ran forwards again, but this time when a grey wall fell down in front of him, he rammed into it, knocking it the other way before the wind could tip it onto him. It was heavy and metallic, but fairly thin- easily tipped, despite its weight. It got stuck partway down, wedged against a rock, but that was fine. It gave him cover, without being a-
Wait.
Like this he couldn't see the twins.
Immediately he jumped back, but the follow-up rectangle clipped him anyway and the gust of wind sent him to the ground. He'd be feeling that in the morning, assuming he survived, but he forced himself back up. Now they didn't know where he was, but that wasn't good enough. He wanted them to think he was where he wasn't. So Zane picked up another piece of shattered floor, wrapped it in his sweater, and threw it hard at the upright of the two rectangles, which started tipping over. With any luck the clothing would disguise it as another bodily tackle, and they'd expect him to... leap over it or something. That could buy him as much as half a minute, and that was time he planned to use.
Mostly to catch his breath, and think. He didn't even know magic was real this morning, after all. The implications could wait, though; what mattered was getting out of this alive. He couldn't run; it wasn't a short street, and going to either edge would mean leaving cover. He could hope to outlast them, maybe reach some kind of draw, but neither of them looked tired. Victory or death, then. It'd been moments, but that may as well have been hours; by now they'd be starting to suspect he hadn't rammed the metal. If they heard something deniable? another ruse. Quickly, he ran forwards and right, crunching gravel underfoot with almost exaggerated force, then turned left and, far more quietly, ran up the slanted rectangle and leapt over it. He went for the wind-oriented brother- probably neither would risk attacking their own in such quarters, at least without hesitation, but the rectangles were even worse for the job than air, from what he'd seen.
the next few seconds were a blur of motion- something he'd not considered, the wind brother could use his power on himself- but it ended with his fist in Zuchezzi face and one opponent out cold.
Things ended pretty quickly after that.
856 words.
 
Birdsie said:
Life Perk: Inherent Risk - All activities which end in either loss or success will display the exact odds of victory. Additionally, combat encounters which end in death will show extra odds colored in red to display the risk of dying.
Click to expand...
Click to shrink...

ah yes, the two most dangerous powers of them all: statistical analysis and the Red Option

[X] The Competitor - Karines Aornheimer
 
So we have The Competitor who is death gang incarnate (except actually competent) and is also self-righteous, unkind and selfish. That's going to be hard pass for me. The Brawler sounds cool, but from what Birdisie has said on the Discord there is a very real possibility he'll die in the second update. I am therefore contractually obligated to vote for

[X] The Detective - Henry M. Vanhorn
 
Alright, I believe that's enough. The winning option is [X] The Brawler - Zane Li Black. For the pre-story section, your Ambrosia's final count is 2.1. It's a rather paltry amount, but not terrible as far as starting sums go. Expect the update sometime soon.
 
Remove ads
Chapter 1 - Start With The Roots
  • Threadmarks
    • Start With The Roots

    Zane's first memory was one where his mom led him into their backyard and taught him gardening.

    She'd explained to him, patiently, how to care for the flowers. The dahlias, orchids, sweet peas, poppies, tulips, day lilies, rose bushes, and myriad other flowers that she took care of in their little garden. She genuinely believed that every flower in existence was like an intricate puzzle from God above, with specific and nearly arcane requirements to bloom in color far more extravagantly than the neighbor's flowers. She passed a lot of that knowledge onto him during her explanation.

    She concluded by saying that Zane was also like a flower to her; someone that she wanted to take care of and help blossom because she loved him very much, far more than any other flower in her garden. She then proceeded to hug him, and being a toddler, Zane awkwardly patted her on the back and burst out into giggles.

    He'd forgotten the contents of the majority of her speech almost a minute later when she allowed him to go back to playing with his figurines.

    All he'd retained were shadowy glimmers of it.

    Nowadays, though, almost fifteen years later, Zane treasured even those distant shadows.

    It was a daily, morning challenge to recall her exact words, and then mutter them aloud while getting up from bed, as if replaying the scene, to better reinforce the memory for the incoming weathering of years. At some point, it had stopped being the maddened speech of a bereaved child, and it transformed into a game of willpower and devotion with himself, to see if he could remember the contents of her speech until his last days. More as a kind of, 'fuck it, why not?' challenge, than anything.

    Make sure to fertilize often.

    Zane didn't miss her, anymore. He'd moved on and started a new life, learning martial arts from his uncle to cope with the stress and frustration at first, and then simply as a form of self-betterment. The daily ritual of recalling her exact words on gardening was more like a prayer; a way of honoring his mother's memory. He loved the woman who raised him, and he wished deeply for her to still be alive, to have ten minutes together that a stupid disease wouldn't be able to take away.

    But he also understood, paradoxically, that such wishes and feelings were simply a part of being an adult.

    As was getting your shit kicked in near the local ghetto at three AM.

    Both of the Zuchezzi brothers were tall men, with a swarthy complexion and black hair that had been elaborately gelled back. They were dressed in warm-looking overcoats to match the weather. It wasn't the appearance of impoverished meth-heads or back-alley thugs. The brothers cut a clean figure, like a pair of experienced and coldly professional mafiosos; people working for some important schmoozer, concerned with the build-up of dollar bills on his desk and not much else. Zane understood where the rumors came from, now, seeing them in person, fully able to examine them up close.

    The taller brother chuckled grimly as he removed the cigarette from between his lips, parting them as if to speak. However, instead of words, a hacking cough emerged from the back of his throat, raspy and accompanied by the nasty grayish-blue smoke of cigarette detritus. It was the disquieting cough of a raspy-voiced chain-smoker.

    After a second or two, he leaned over a bit and proceeded to spit, a thick wad of phlegm and saliva landing on the floor. It glittered yellowish-white with the reflected light of a wall fixture on the side of the alleyway. The cigarette bud followed the fluids, landing right next to them, as the man crushed it underfoot.

    Make sure the soil is good.

    "Well, shit, kid," the same man finally said, "I guess you're the last man standing."

    "Well, shit, old man. I guess I am," Zane replied, letting swagger guide him.

    The Zuchezzi didn't chuckle at the little jab, like Zane thought he might, in his head.

    "I've heard of you," he said instead, as he reached into his coat. Maybe it was stupid to dread a firearm when the man in front of him could toss people like ragdolls with a handwave, but that was exactly what Zane expected, and it caused him to instinctively tense up. Instead, the man pulled out a pair of black leather gloves - weighted gloves, actually, if those mounds on the knuckles were what Zane suspected they were. "I bet you're not even twenty, are you? Nah, you look a bit younger than that. And people call you the Brawler of Midwood, already. And you're not even a bit terrified of what we did to your pals. You know a kid's gotta be something."

    "He's just a kid," the younger brother, arms folded and leaning against a wall, said. There was a laceration scar on his cheek, a nasty one that had warped some of the surrounding flesh. It must have been a stabbing wound through the cheek or something. "Get it over with."

    "Nah, I want to have some fun," the older brother said. He slipped on the weighted gloves and tested them, clenching and unclenching his fists, in a way that seemed completely superfluous, and more for his own confidence. "Word on the streets is, this little bitch's in with the Demons."

    Is he planning to fight me? With his fists instead of those superpowers?

    In martial arts, there were maybe a dozen major components to consider. Among them was the practice of maintaining a proper distance to the enemy, as well as the footwork to manipulate that distance. It was generally a matter of conventional wisdom to not overreach, stay outside of the enemy's strike range, and step into the range to either feint or punch. In conventional martial arts, it'd usually be an actual strike or a grapple attempt, but the best approach could depend on factors like the opponent's height and weight. A little skinny Timmy wasn't about to throw around Hunk, the five-hundred-pound beast, but he could still punch.

    And from simple observation of surface factors, Zane could already tell his opponent knew about jackshit when it came to actual fighting. Zane was familiar with his type. He was talented, but he was effortlessly talented; he'd never put in any actual thought into his fighting style or attempted to refine it. He relied mostly on attributes, like superior height, raw instinct, and strength when compared to his opponent. As a result, he never developed the harsh experience resulting from adversity, or the ability to properly adapt to an opponent's style and personal combat strategy.

    It'd literally be an easier fight than trying to punch a blindfolded Uncle Shen. If he could be baited to go through with his attack, without using his powers, Zane would be able to take him down and knock him out in the same amount of time it took most people to breathe in and out.

    "Not really. I work for the junior leagues," Zane said nonchalantly. "Not exactly of my own will. I'd rather not put up with people's bullshit."

    "Oh ha, ha." The older Zuchezzi cocked his head to the side, as he banged his fists together with a grin. "Well, let's get to it."

    Start with the roots.

    ---

    Select a general approach:

    [ ] Execute - Take down the older brother first, letting him approach and then knocking his lights out.

    The older brother is the greatest threat by far, capable of some kind of aerokinesis. While the younger's ability is concerning, Zane is hopeful that maybe he can power through it. Hopefully, the shock of seeing a grown man thrown to the floor and taken down in two seconds flat is going to awe the younger one for long enough to let Zane dash at him. And if not, then he probably at least did everything that he could.

    [ ] Evade and Escape - Run out of the alleyway as fast as you can, and hopefully, you'll break line of sight before either of them can use their supernatural powers?

    [ ] Write-in...

    Also...

    [ ] Activate Brawler of Midwood - Doubles the odds of success of the action taken above.

    [ ] Do Not - No doubled odds, but if you would die as the result of a bad roll, you are instead assured to survive.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • [X] Execute - Take down the older brother first, letting him approach and then knocking his lights out.

    [X] Activate Brawler of Midwood - Doubles the odds of success of the action taken above.

    Go big or go home. Worst case scenario, a character we've known for all of one post ends up kicking the bucket so it's not much of a loss. Also feels like something the sort of person Zane seems to be would do.
     
    [X] Write-in: Execute - Take down the younger brother first, enrage the older to recklessly approach and then knocking his lights out.

    This is real life, not honorable combat.

    [X] Activate Brawler of Midwood - Doubles the odds of success of the action taken above.
     
    Negation said:
    [X] Write-in: Execute - Take down the younger brother first, enrage the older to recklessly approach and then knocking his lights out.

    This is real life, not honorable combat.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    The reason to take out the older brother first instead of the younger has nothing to do with honorable combat, which people historically actually did adhere to at times even in life and death situations but that's neither here nor there, but because it's the smarter approach to winning.

    The older brother is already engaging us recklessly, by moving to fight us with his body, and approaching us already so we don't need to bait him. We can't really ask for a better opportunity to take him down, and we should prioritize him over the younger from what we know due to him having the stronger supernatural ability but not seeming noticeably easier to take out in hand to hand.

    In real life, legitimately harming cocky shitheads like this tends to make them react more ruthlessly and efficiently in a fight they weren't taking seriously before, not the other way around. Unlike in cartoons, getting angry at someone you already want to fuck up doesn't actually lower your iq by twenty to 30 points. At most it might make them focus on a specific person to the detriment of watching their back in extreme circumstances, all though most people's survival instincts tend to mitigate that we they know doing so would likely get them killed, but we don't really have some other fighter on our side to take advantage of that opportunity.

    All taking out the weaker opponent is liable to do is give up the easy win against the stronger opponent, by either making him angry enough that'd he be willing to use his aerokinesis right out the gate or being wary enough of us not to fight us hand to hand or let us get close like he's willing to do at the moment because now he knows were actually a threat to him.
     
    Last edited:
    [X] Write-in: Execute Modified - Take out the older brother first as in the original command, then without pausing or giving the slightest chance for your foe to react, move on to taking out the other brother within the same action. if feasible without notably increased risk of failure in the first portion, end the fight with the older brother so his crumpling form screens you from the younger brother for a short time as you close the distance.

    (this is improved in that if Brawler of Midwood activates, it will save us from both brothers, if I understand mechanics correctly.)
    [X] Do not
     
    [X] Execute
    [X] Activate Brawler of Midwood

    We hit hard and fast and pray to the just and merciful RNJesus that this dude and his little brother are taken down quickly because of overconfidence. Although I am somewhat leery of all the red text.
     
    Reader mode
    You must login or register to reply here.
    Remove ads
    Back
    Top