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Lesion [Worm/Arknights]

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More like dementia caused by Oripathy inside her spine - Aegerians really don't handle Oripathy well.
 
Actually Specter isn't a raging psychopath people seem to assume she is. She's pretty chill while being insane outside the whole "Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!" manner of speech. In a fight she doesn't rampage as much as takes every order literally and obeys without question. Whenever she goes in a fight she pretty much just goes "no thoughts head empty".

You'd have easier time commanding her than Lappland I'd assume.
 
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6.5
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    • 6.5


    Kaiser stood there, slowly clapping, looking down on me. He was dressed as he usually was. A full suit of armour, like some European knight. A blue tabard, with a circle of thirteen white stars on it, and red and white ribbons trailing from the bottom edge. It showed this was intentional, at least. Uber had told me once he could assemble his entire armour from nothing in a few seconds, but when he'd done that he'd not have the tabard.

    I pressed dial on my phone, waited a second, and then spoke up. "What do you want, Kaiser?"

    He stopped clapping, and I slowly reached for my crossbow. "A few things. Throw the phone away. No, into the sea, if you wouldn't mind."

    Damn. I did as he said, lobbing it weakly behind me. Hopefully it'd fallen short, and could still pick me up. Had no idea how the police tracing phone calls worked, and even if it would on something as shitty as my phone.

    Staring directly at him, I took the last arrow I had from my quiver, and slowly loaded it. He flicked a hand, and a spear of steel sprouted out my crossbow. And then another. And another. I realised, quickly, what was about to happen, and ripped the straps from me, throwing it away, before the steel Kaiser created built up and up, internal pressures forming, until the arms of my crossbow ripped themselves away from the body with a sound disturbingly like a ping.
    My teeth ground together as I traced the arc of one of the arms, flying high into the air to fall into the sea.

    I looked up at him, and then quickly spun on my heel. Without my crossbow, I couldn't win. A giant spike of steel erupted in front of me, almost taking my head off as I stumbled backwards, my leg collapsing beneath me as I put too much weight on it.

    I closed my eyes, trying to take measured breaths through my nose as the pain spiked.

    "You probably wouldn't know, because I imagine I was your age when it was said, but my father once nicknamed me Tinkersbane." I opened my eyes to see he'd paced along the wall to be level with me once again, and that I was surrounded by a waist-high wall of steel blades. There were still gaps, of course, but none I could fit through. I grabbed onto one, and pulled myself upright as he spoke again. "It's always been interesting to me. So many people dislike tinkers, in the cape community, but I've never had a problem with them. So easy to just-" He gestured, again, and I stumbled as the weight on my back changed.

    My spear, then. It kept increasing, even as I reached out behind me to try to get it out, eventually managing to start sliding it out of it's cover, until it fell on the ground just outside my little cage, the head a mess of spikes. "And now, you see, you're disarmed. As powerless as any other human being. While I remain a cape. Isn't that interesting."

    I looked up at him, my teeth still wearing at each other. He was wrong, for one thing. I still had my yoyo, in the pocket of my jacket. I wasn't disarmed, even if I probably couldn't get it out. He'd notice my hair changing colour. But still, it was one last hope I could hold onto.

    "Not really," I said, affecting as calm a tone as I could. I still think some of the pain slipped through. "You're going to kill me, so just do it already."

    "No. No, I haven't decided if I will, yet." He stopped there, and I stared at him in disbelief. He stared at me in turn, each of us equally inscrutable behind our full-face masks.

    "Why?" It was clearly what he was waiting for, and I was tired. Not just of him. Just of everything. Of being out at all hours of the night. Of doing it all. I'd had my adrenaline peak and now I was crashing, crashing down.

    "You have done me great harm. Of that there is no doubt. You have captured Cricket. Victor only finished growing his fingers last night. And now one of my heavy hitters, one of my trusted lieutenants is dead by your hand." His tone was light, almost casual, like we were discussing what to order for lunch, or the weather. "Oh, and you helped kill my wife. That's certainly reason enough to kill you."

    "But… on the other hand. Garm was out of control. He wasn't happy where he was, and he was a violent thug with no impulse control. I would have had to have disciplined him sooner or later, or he would have broken away. Or perhaps killed me. Cricket is no great loss, we've busted people out of transports before, and will as soon as they move her off that floating fortress of theirs. And you didn't kill Purity. No, that was someone else. Certainly, it is weighted against you, but not entirely. Not enough." God, this man liked hearing himself talk.

    "So, I'm going to ask you a few questions. Why?" He pressed his hands together, dropping them in front of him, fingers splayed, like he was a lecturer on stage, or a politician, and not a super-villian with more murders to his name than I had fights.

    "Why what? Why am I doing this?" I rejoindered as quickly as I could, leaning on the steel as much as I could, my leg aching more by the second as I had nothing else to focus on.

    "Yes, exactly. It is gratifying to know I'm not talking with an idiot."

    "Because you're a blight on this city. You and your entire racist ilk. And I like this city. It's my city. So if you're looking for an apology or something, well. You'll have to wait for me to find something to apologise for." I gently pressed one of the blades I was leaning on forwards. They'd emerged from the sand, and I could feel them gently shifting underneath me. That wasn't a strong foundation. I think I could push them over, if I put my weight behind it, they were only a few inches deep, it felt.

    "Hm. Good. Very good." That was good? "Do you ever wonder why I do what I do, Revamp? Why I engage with all… this?" He swept his hands wide, like a conductor, twisting to encompass the city behind him.

    "Not really."

    "Because I love this city, too. And I want to protect it."

    "By lynching black people?" I said, trying to inject as much derision in my voice as I could.

    "No. No, Revamp. I honestly don't care about someone's skin colour. My father did, I'm sure. As did my sister. And as do so many of my followers, unfortunately. I do not have absolute control over them, which is why such tragic incidents occur. I do what I can, though, to make sure they target real targets."

    "The real targets," I echoed back at him. "You're going to try to convince me this is all something you're doing to try to, what, drive out the other gangs?"

    "You might not believe me, Revamp, but it's true." He shrugged in a tinkle of metal, even as the wind started picking up.

    "The Empire, in the old days of the early nineties, weren't even a villain group. We were called something else, then. My father took it over, and twisted it, but even still. Look at the last week, Revamp, and tell me who started this? Who's done more damage to this city? No, the ABB, the Merchants, the Calaveras, they are the ones who started this all. They don't care about this city, not in the same way you and I do, because they don't understand it. Skidmark is British. Lung is from Japan, as are the vast majority of his gang. And the Baron, well, even if he is native, he acts without concern for human life. Why shouldn't I oppose them, Revamp? You do. Or, you did, before you allied with them."

    As much as I hate to admit it, I could see the logic in his arguments. He was wrong, certainly, but I could see how it would be persuasive. To distract away from the people I probably didn't hate. To remind me there were other people I could hate. And it was delivered with real emotion, real passion into his words. He probably believed it, at least in part.

    "What was Purity then, that night?"

    "Will you not permit us defence, Revamp? She was trying to stop this all, perhaps stop this all before it could continue into this giant mess. For sure, if you want to condemn me for violence, then you are free to do so. It's why I did not join the PRT, and all of their ineffectual 'rules'. But, well," he gestured below him, at the mess I'd made at the beach. It made his argument for him.

    "They did Purity."

    "Unless I've been dramatically misinformed, that was Laserdream. You were there. Am I?"

    I ground my teeth together, and he stood there, head tilted, clearly watching me. My arm was aching from holding myself upright for so long, I noticed. My other arm, my right, ached at the elbow, as it always did, warm and always hovering at the edge of my intention. My leg hurt, even as I tried to put no weight on it.

    "So?"

    He moved his head slightly, looking at me. "So?"

    "So what? Does that justify you, Kaiser? Because you think you're doing good? Because you think your noble intentions count for anything? If all this that you just said actually meant anything, why, I think I'd have noticed in my years of living in this city. And yet you claim you're doing it for the good of this city. Don't you think you should have more than pretty words to support it? Because if you did, I wouldn't have agreed with Lung, when he stood in front of me and said we must unite to fight you off! You can delude yourself, saying you don't believe it, and maybe that's even fucking true!"

    I gestured at him with my free arm, flinging it out at the city, the same as he had. "But we don't notice it. And while you sit at the top, Max, with your billions of dollars and 'good intentions' -" I finger quote him, and stumble as I do so, but recover, "- You're enabling all those bastards you claim to hate. How long would Garm have been out on the street, without your help? How long the unpowered racists who all flock to your banner. Because I fucking know what your banner is. The Betsy Ross on your chest, and your logo the confederate flag. Do you think I don't know what the Eighty Eight stands for? Because, even if you say you were once called something else, you're in charge. You could change that. You own the bloody newspaper, it's not like the editorial line is going to contradict you."

    I was panting at this point, but I was on a roll. I wasn't letting pain stop me, and I wasn't going to let him get a word in edgewise.

    "So yes, when Lung came to me, when Bakuda came to me, when they laid out their plan, I looked at the Empire, and saw nothing more than an organisation comprised on the worst people of the world, and I gladly allied with them for the purpose of putting you in the ground. Sure, I didn't know how crazy Bakuda was, what she'd do, but if I was there, I'd make it all the same. Because I've met you, now, to see if you really are those evil bastards. I've met Victor, and Fenja, and Garm and Cricket. And now I've met you. And you know what? I wasn't wrong. You are evil. Even you, Kaiser, a good man standing aside to let evil work. Fuck it, no, you fucking helped those evil men along. Gave them a place to come together, to work greater evils than they ever could have alone."

    I stopped, breathing heavily behind my mask, drawing in as much air as I could as I'd shouted at him. Maybe the phone was still sending something out. Maybe it meant anything. But damn, it felt good all the same.

    "Hm. You know, the Empire has never had a tinker? We've had more than thirty capes, but never a tinker. And I suppose that'll continue." His voice was trying to be level, but I could hear the anger in the clipped edges of his words.

    He jumped off the wall, stumbling slightly as he hit the sand, before he started walking towards me.

    This is it, then. I threw my weight to the side, and felt it start to lean, before it was falling, and I pushed halfway past it -

    And then more spikes erupted, horizontal ones around the leg still in the cage, more ones appearing from the ground to reinforce it, and to extend it, to push against my ribs and body.

    "It seems you forgot. I am still a cape, while you aren't. A techless tinker. Useless. Worthless."

    I slipped my hand into my jacket pocket, gripping onto my Yoyo. Kaiser approached, walking across the sand, as the sea lapped against the edges of his cage. The tide was still rising, it seemed.

    "I am a merciful man, so I will-" And then he was within arms reach.

    I ripped my arm out of my coat.

    I swung at his head.

    The Yoyo hit him, and he collapsed on the ground.

    For a second, for a glorious second, I thought I'd been lucky enough. And then I saw spikes growing, between the two disks of my yoyo. I chucked it next to him, on the sand. But he wasn't an idiot, didn't break it apart then.

    He staggered upright, spikes supporting him as he pressed one hand to his head where I'd hit him. He moved his fingers, and I could see I'd actually dented it. I grinned, although it probably looked more like a grimace.

    He stared at me for a moment, even as I wriggled in the traps around me, for a long moment. Before, in one swift movement, ripping my mask off.

    The air stung my face, fresh air hitting the bruises beneath it. I was probably a mess. No, I knew it. I slowly moved my hand, pushing my glasses up my nose, allowing me to see again.

    Kaiser was stood there, hand still to his head, still staring at me. I managed to wriggle my less injured leg free of the ankle constriction but didn't move it much more.

    "I thought… Never mind. A shame. Truly a shame." He'd recovered some of his poise, something I was beginning to see was central to his self-perception. He didn't have it, not truly. Otherwise he wouldn't lash out when I aggravated him. No, he liked to think of himself as calm and self-controlled, even though he wasn't. No wonder he was a hypocrite.

    I managed to take a step forward, my knee clattering against the steel as it bent under my bodyweight. More spikes arose around me, threatening to impale me if I moved more. Ah, fuck.

    I looked up at him, the wind playing with the loose strands of my hair, dancing in front of my vision. It's funny what you'll focus on, at times like these.

    "Well? What are you waiting -"

    It slid into my right side, between the gaps in my plates. It had ached to breath, but now it sliced, as I had to tear myself more to do so. A trembling hand reached down, to the edges of the pain, and came back up, drenched in red. It was thick. I didn't realise blood could be so thick.

    My bad leg gave out completely, then, and it drove the blade up, up until I heard a quiet tap. It'd stopped. Because my ribs were in the way. I stared at my hand, my eyes defocusing, before finally managing to focus again at the blurry figure of Kaiser. He was just walking away.

    Because that was it, wasn't it? Young, and immortal, and dying. The wind was cold, cold. Everything was feeling cold now, really. Everything except my side, and that soft, soft warmth in my arm.

    I'd not believed it could happen. I'd not thought I could die. Yelling at Kaiser, fighting Garm… no, I'd thought Garm could kill me. Garm was a monster. Monsters killed people. But he'd just seemed so… small. So short. My went blurry again, and I reached down, almost by instinct to touch the wound. It felt so warm. So warm and wet. And yet the slightest brush of my fingers hurt. How could it hurt more? How could it hurt more? I'd been ripped open, but that, that wasn't enough.

    I almost wanted to laugh, and blinked my eyes. The blurriness went away then, as I felt two cold beads roll down my cheeks. I was crying. Of course I was crying.

    I was on a beach, as evening turned into night, impaled and dying.

    At least I'd accomplished something, then. I could still see some of Garm's steel. I'd done something. I'd made the city better. That's what I'd promised I'd do.

    I'd done it. Maybe, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. To finally rest, to finally sleep for a while.

    Couldn't ask more of me, could they? I'd done my duty. I'd gone out. I'd been a hero.

    Nothing more I could do.

    Sorry, Dad. Sorry I couldn't keep my promise.

    Everything was cold now, even the wound. It was probably the blood loss, leaking out of me onto the sand. The pain hadn't gone. But the warmth had.

    All the warmth, except the warmth in my arm. That was funny, wasn't it? I relaxed into it, letting my mind focus on it. On anything, really, except the pain screaming up every inch of axon.

    It wasn't really warm, I noticed, not warm in the same way a summer day was warm. No, it was something familiar to me, something just like warmth. Warm except not. Wasn't that interesting?

    My head drooped forwards, staring down at the ground. My glasses fell off my nose, leaving everything blurry like someone had dabbed vaseline onto my eyes.

    My yoyo was there. Lying on the ground, it's insides crusted up with spikes.

    I breathed in, and new spikes of pain blossomed, but i felt a quiet relief in my chest. When had I stopped breathing? That was…

    That was funny.

    I let my mind drift back to the not-quite-warmth. It was welcoming. Familiar. I'd had it for so long, the heat in my arm.

    It felt like my yoyo.

    Wasn't that funny? So many things were amusing now, I was realising. So many things I'd never understood before.

    It felt like my swords.

    It felt like my spear.

    It felt, actually, like my wand. My long forgotten, troublesome wand. That's what it reminded me of, most of all.

    Wasn't that strange?

    I breathed in again, and opened my eyes. There was something black on my fingers, something black and red, and pulsing, as I let the warmth spread over me. I slowly moved my hand closer, straining numb muscles, staring at it, until my eyes managed to bring it into focus.

    An orb of black light, red at the edges, pulsed at the tips of my fingers. I could feel it, barely, in my numb hand, as I moved them slightly. I pulled on the warmth inside me more. It was spreading, coating my insides. There was other spots of warmth, I could feel, in my hips, in my knees, coming together.

    They pulsed together, pulsed at the same beat as the orb.

    I blinked again, at the orb.

    I had super powers.

    I, I, I had super powers.

    I straightened up, feeling the spike dig, dig even deeper inside me, and I could feel the pain coming back towards me. Everything came back towards me, all in a rush.

    What was I doing?

    Where had the fire, the terror and determination that had let me beat one of the greatest villains in this city? Was I just going to, to, sink into the silence?

    I'd made a promise to my father.

    I wasn't finished yet.

    The orb smashed the steel around me as I came to that decision. I pulled on my warmth, on the warmth inside me, and another sprang to life on my finger tips. I threw it at the steel trapping my waist, which shattered. The spike, the spike inside me shattered free, and I staggered forwards, falling into the wet sand.

    A wave broke over my head, and I spat it out, my eyes burning as I stared at the the beach. I could see Kaiser, still, in the distance, slowly walking towards the nearest set of steps up the sea wall.

    How glad was I that I was farsighted.

    I stumbled forwards, out of the sand, slowly making my way towards him. Each step hurt, the blade inside me shifting, but I couldn't pull it out.

    I don't know how long it took me, to traverse the hundred and forty meters or so until I felt he was near enough. It could have been an hour, for all I could tell. All I could feel was the warmth surrounding me, and the slow chill of air as I breathed in. The slow giving way of wet sand, beneath my feet. And all I could see was the man in the steel that just barely shone in the last light of dusk, even as my vision started fading at the edges.

    Eventually, I decided, I was close enough. I pushed at the ball, and it flew forwards, catching him on the legs, and sending him tumbling down four steps, until he laid on the stand. He pushed himself up, staring at me for a long second, before a spike erupted out of the ground in front of me.

    I hit it, the black light wrapped around my fist, and it shattered, fragments flying everywhere, a few cutting my face. I dragged my bag leg behind me as I took another step forwards.

    "How did you-"

    I threw the light at him, sending him back to one knee.

    "Fuck. Fuck you." More spikes arose, all around me, so I let the warmth build up inside me, before it exploded out of me at once. I took another step forwards, even as Kaiser stood up in front of me.

    He was shorter than me, and I let the black light coat my fist as I slammed it into his helmet, sending him stumbling backwards. Another jab, from my other arm.

    I dodged his wild return punch, and drove another punch into his stomach, the cloth and steel stopping my hand, but not my arts. Another wild haymaker clipped me around the ear, and I stumbled back, my leg giving way, falling back onto the sand. I threw a blast at his legs, and he toppled down as well, falling beside me.

    My fist reached out, reached out to his helmet, and I ripped it away. I couldn't make out his face, a blurry smeared mess, but I didn't need to.

    Not to punch him again.

    Spike suddenly erupted again, but this time they pushed kaiser away, giving him space between me.

    We both slowly got up, and I called the warmth, the warmth burning hotter in me than it ever had before, two balls of light flickering into life around my fists.

    We regarded each other warily.

    I licked my lips. Tasted metal.

    "How… are you still, still alive? You couldn't pull yourself off, off…" He trailed off, and for once he didn't sound like an orator.

    He sounded scared. I stared at him, my vision now black and white.

    "I didn't. I didn't, Max. It's still in there, because, because I've got something that matters to me. Matters more to me than it all." And he did, didn't he? I loved this city. And I loved my father. And perhaps sometimes I loved the city more than him. But in that moment, dying on the beach, I knew that I loved my dad more than anything in the world. "Because I'm going to go home. I'm going to see my Dad, and make it all right. Because that reunion matters more. And it always will. You try, try to divide us. Divide the city. Divide people. Drag them down, down to your level." I paused, trying to get my words in order.

    "But… we'll reunite. Because there's nothing to divide us. So, you little Nazi, you sad little man, why don't you come at me? See what your years of effort amount to, against a girl who actually cares! Come and stop me! Come! Come, and stop my Reunion!"

    He gestured. I threw.

    He fell backwards.

    The blades stopped.

    I grinned, madly, and turned, turned to the stairs. I took a step. Another step. One. One more step. One more step. One more, and I'd be on the steps up the wall. Then, then it'd be easy. Just had to walk up them all. Then find a phone. And call. Call my dad.

    I took that step, and my vision went black, and I was falling to the ground.

    I was still warm. I felt my head hit the concrete. I lay there, breathing. I was still breathing. That was good. All, all I needed was to rest here a while, just breathe for a while, until I got my strength back.

    I could hear someone yelling, vaguely, in the distance. That was strange. Everyone was inside today. Scared of the Empire.

    I felt some hands press against my shoulder, turn my over, and exclaim.

    "Jesus fuck, Kaiser did some - Hebert?"

    Hey, I knew that voice.

    "Hey, Hess, what are you doing out-"


    AN: Oripathy can allow the infected to utilise Originum Arts without the medium of a staff or wand. This hastens the progression of the disease.

    And there we have it. I hope, even those who don't know Arknights, that they understand the final twist. I did try to foreshadow it, for a good while now, and it has always been planned. As did, uh, my incredibly subtle reference in Taylor's last rant.
     
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    • Oh, everything in this chapter was just, too good.

    Well, except for Taylor's Oripathy getting doubled down on, but you can't win 'em all.

    And the Talulah similarities. If that's taken to its logical conclusion, fun times are ahead.
     
    Damn it Taylor I know you were in a damned hard spot but well damn it....

    You just Hastened your own bloody death with your acts even if you did your best to fight your own Emperors Blade. Still I guess she is well on the way to finding her own justice now lets see if you rise above the world and find your own justice or end up carving your own burning trail of sorrow and rage through the world killing all you stood for.
     
    Also guess going off it as well at the end she tapped into the little rabbit of Rhode Islands arts as well.
     
    I know little much of Arknights, so could anyone fill in some context on who's power did she just used? In fact, could someone also identify whos weapons they represent.
     
    Arsur3215Loki said:
    I know little much of Arknights, so could anyone fill in some context on who's power did she just used? In fact, could someone also identify whos weapons they represent.
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    The power she used is, as far as I know, her very own flavor of Originium Arts. OA are basically magic powered by originium, usually channeled through a catalyst by a caster. People infected with Oripathy, however, do not need one, since they can use the originium in their bodies to channel their arts. This, of course, speeds up the 100% lethal disease.

    Edit: Okay, so, on second thought, the arts she used might be Amiya's or Haze's. The coloration matches and the shape isn't something they're incapable of doing. Although, as of right now, what she's used so far is just too generic to make a good guess.
     
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    If she used Amiya's power that means she can potentially evolve if she choose's to assuming she lives long enough that is.
     
    That was certainly a rush! Seems like the PRT's found Taylor, and the fact that she is now literally dying of her wounds means that she'll need medical attention, and I don't doubt the doctors at the PRT would miss the originium growing inside her body and on her skin.

    Sacrificing your life for a cause is something every infected character in Arknights does, even your standard Reunion caster. Taylor's certainly displayed the willpower behind the uniform she borrowed, and while I'd say it was worth it in exchange for taking the Empire down especially Garm and Kaiser, I can't help but worry for Taylor and her dad. Their reunion may not be on the most positive places. :sad:
     
    oh hell yeah Reunion time!!!!! oh and what's this??? a charismatic young leader with a lot of rage against the injustices in the world???
    oh god please don't have a psychic parasite i can't do that again
     
    Huh, Taylor tapped Amiya it seems. Best hope it's only the Dark Matter and not the Empathy/Emotional Absorption aspect as well.

    Wasn't fire so while the speech is Talulah, the powers aren't.
     
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    I think Taylor tapped into Talulah given the heat based arts and Taylor saying "My Reunion".

    For those unfamiliar with who Talulah is...
    She is the leader of the Reunion, a extremist group dedicated to protecting the Infected from persecutions. However she was cursed so that if she ever entered a Social Darwanist mentality, she would be possessed by her adoptive father(Always the biggest asshole in the room) who kidnapped her when she was young to spite the leader of Lungman(Arknights Hong Kong) and to try and trigger a war between Yen(Arknights China) and Ursus(Arknights Tsar Russia).

    In terms of capabilities, Talulah is very kind, charismatic, and intelligent having been trained by said asshole adoptive father to be exactly like him(luckily she refused to be an asshole). In terms of combat, all her arts involve fire from enveloping a sword in armor melting fire, throwing fireballs en mass, or just incinerating a city block. She is the most powerful member of the Reunion.
     
    Personally, I don't think Taylor tapped into anyone as she lacked the usual mechanism for that, namely her weapons. It truly was just her own Arts as a Infected, unleashed and untrained much like how FrostNova first acquired her Arts via desperation.

    Taylor can claim no one but her took down Kaiser, and it'd be true too. I feel like this is the natural progression for her character, growing past her reliance on others and finally coming into her own as her own superhero.
     
    Hm, that actually makes a lot of sense.

    Taylor's Assimilation Rate and Blood-Originium Crystal Density likely aren't high enough to be tapping into the Little King anyway.
     
    Eric3d2b said:
    She did the Amiya S3. She used pure arts for orbs. Absolutely levels bosses.
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    I too love my little king's M3S3, but I don't think Taylor tapped into Amiya here. She'd be dead otherwise, as Amiya's infection is at the level of "You should be dead". Besides, Amiya's more powerful Arts summons a sigil behind her and she floats off the ground too. If Taylor used those Arts against Kaiser, there wouldn't be anything left of the man.

    What Taylor displayed was more of a raw and primal reaction I think, coating her fist with Originium Arts and throwing magic projectiles at people. Even the standard enemy Reunion Casters have the same color scheme to thwir Arts.
     
    BiasedMendicant said:
    oh hell yeah Reunion time!!!!! oh and what's this??? a charismatic young leader with a lot of rage against the injustices in the world???
    oh god please don't have a psychic parasite i can't do that again
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    She's a parahuman whose power has the caveat of altering her mindset to varying degrees. It's already too late.
     
    Hannz said:
    What Taylor displayed was more of a raw and primal reaction I think, coating her fist with Originium Arts and throwing magic projectiles at people. Even the standard enemy Reunion Casters have the same color scheme to thwir Arts.
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    Thinking something like what Patriot taught to his troops to do you know the old witchcraft? You know stuff that operates more on tradition, instinct and will more than anything.
     
    kelgar04 said:
    Thinking something like what Patriot taught to his troops to do you know the old witchcraft? You know stuff that operates more on tradition, instinct and will more than anything.
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    Nah, Sarkaz Witchcraft predates Originium Arts. It's a discipline that's taught to people from the impressions I got, hence why only very old folks like Patriot even know how to use it. What Taylor did is similar to how most infected first access their Arts. They're under a high-stress situation, but still have some strength in them and a will to carry on. Kind of like FrostNova when Patriot first found her. Under the imminent threat of death, she turned the prison guards into popsicles.
     
    Hannz said:
    Nah, Sarkaz Witchcraft predates Originium Arts. It's a discipline that's taught to people from the impressions I got, hence why only very old folks like Patriot even know how to use it. What Taylor did is similar to how most infected first access their Arts. They're under a high-stress situation, but still have some strength in them and a will to carry on. Kind of like FrostNova when Patriot first found her. Under the imminent threat of death, she turned the prison guards into popsicles.
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    I think popsicles is rather mild considering what happened to them though to be fair the bastards did deserve it. Still given how Taylor forced open the gate her to arts I'm going to be concerned that other than exacerbating her condition that those idiots in Cauldron if they work out how arts work, figure out the links between Originium and infected as well as them exist her try to replicate both Oripathy and arts to use as weapons similar to what Rhine did with Ifrit.
     
    kelgar04 said:
    I think popsicles is rather mild considering what happened to them though to be fair the bastards did deserve it. Still given how Taylor forced open the gate her to arts I'm going to be concerned that other than exacerbating her condition that those idiots in Cauldron if they work out how arts work, figure out the links between Originium and infected as well as them exist her try to replicate both Oripathy and arts to use as weapons similar to what Rhine did with Ifrit.
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    I salute your Ifrit and raise you my Rosmontis.

    Ifrit is, to some extent, capable of controlling and stopping herself before things go too far. Rosmontis, without a pocket empath and emotion manipulator, is a train with no brakes, allegedly capable of levelling a city.

    So, you know. Let's hope that they end up making the former rather than the latter.
     
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