Palace of Greed, El Dorado (Library of Ruina)
- Thread starter SoothingCoffee
- Start date
Skeith
An Occasional Master of BS
Basically it comes down to
1. Do we really want this weapon?
2. If we do. Do we want to spend money to fix it
3. If we take it will the people who equiped the Rats with this weaponry come after us.
Also as some said earlier our current weapon lowers the damage of our opponents if only for a little bit so there's survivability which is needed in this hellhole.
1. Do we really want this weapon?
2. If we do. Do we want to spend money to fix it
3. If we take it will the people who equiped the Rats with this weaponry come after us.
Also as some said earlier our current weapon lowers the damage of our opponents if only for a little bit so there's survivability which is needed in this hellhole.
LinkOnScepter
The One who Strangles Concepts to death
- Location
- Interwebs
1. In Ruina, Debuffs > Damage. Because there are literally enemies that are straight immune to damage or have things that make damaging them without first debuffing them a fools errand. I wish I was joking.
2. This Weapon was likely made by a Workshop. You know, the places that are basically Syndicates but make weapons for people? If they're the kind who are touchy about who uses their weapons, we could accidentally piss them off and get an entire Syndicate on our ass. Not something we can afford right now.
3. I'd rather avoid any and all Side Quest until we get our Monthly bills out of the way.
To explain some of the things the QM said:
The Pianist: A guy who turned into an Abnormality and caused the largest amount of damage done by a Distortion to date. He did this by making a giant pipe organ out of the bodies of the people in his District, and the Fixers who came to try to stop him. He caused so much destruction that it's still being felt to this day. People who still remember his music go crazy or are constantly encouraged to go crazy by the want to hear his music again. He was the one who killed Roland's wife.
The Index: A bunch of crazy people who follow the Will of these pieces of paper called "Prescripts". These papers tell them to do crazy ass shit like impaling a bunch of people on telephone poles while keeping them alive, but it always seems to work out for them.
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I think this is underselling it a bit. The Index and any of the people under their protection have to follow the Prescripts. These can range from super detailed like, "Go to x street at y time and stab the z person to make eye contact with you," to more vague stuff like, "murder a picture." (Note: Not destroy a picture. or rip it to pieces or whatever. You have to "murder" it.)
If you fail to follow a Prescript assigned to you, then someone in The Index will get a Prescript to torture and/or kill you.
- Location
- At my computer
[X] Leave it behind. You got no use for it, so there's no point in pick it up… right? [???]
SoothingCoffee
Umumumu
- Location
- The Library
Calling the Vote.
Looks like you guys aren't picking up the sword, huh? I wonder if you guys would change your mind knowing what it is.
No, I won't tell.
OerstedMagicMan
Casual LoR Enjoyer
- Location
- Indonesia
Dang it, its from some good Workshop isn't it? Or is it a Weapon to Surpass Metal Gear?
Dauan Tienar
To the endless horizon
- Location
- Victoria
You know what would be improbable but utterly hilarious? If the sword was an E.G.O weapon that got lost somehow and is in disrepair.
- Location
- The Pasta Kingdom
Oh man. If that's actually what it is, i honestly think we both lost an opportunity and dodged a bullet. Not just anyone can wield E.G.O. after all.
Eh, it was brought up in Wonderlab, an official comic taking place in this world, that equiping EGO above your 'weight class' causes it to slowly start assimilating you.
- Location
- Yangon
Yeah let's not go around using EGO Weapons yet. Lily's justice isn't that high anyway.
And anyway, the best EGO is your own. You just have to be mentally traumatized then accept your trauma first or you distort.
And anyway, the best EGO is your own. You just have to be mentally traumatized then accept your trauma first or you distort.
Skeith
An Occasional Master of BS
Though admittedly we only saw minor EGO Corrosion and its fairly obvious. Like decals appearing on my finger nails and my breath smells of air freshener. Though something like Mimicry wouldn't be so nice.
LinkOnScepter
The One who Strangles Concepts to death
- Location
- Interwebs
Being honest, I'm really interested in what Lily would've been if we went with a Justice/Repression build.
Cause we caused significant Sanity Damage to those Rats from just using general Melee. And we managed to make them panic.
Imagine how freaked out they could've been if we focused on Repression.
Cause we caused significant Sanity Damage to those Rats from just using general Melee. And we managed to make them panic.
Imagine how freaked out they could've been if we focused on Repression.
Alectai
Speaks Words of Wisdom... On occasion
Yeah, I get the feeling that Repression is great for when you're taking on a big pile of mooks, because if Repression damage didn't hit everyone around you, there'd be no reason to ever take it over any other combat skill given how it doesn't get weapon damage bonuses.
Well, on the other hand, it probably works well against things that are super heavily armor tanked but unstable ego, like those cyborg guys late in Canard.
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1.4 Cheese Platter
SoothingCoffee
Umumumu
- Location
- The Library
You consider the sword. Testing its weight, its heft, swinging it around; each strike at the empty air pulling you forward, forcing you to take in a wider stance to properly wield it. Planting it down to the ground, you purse your lips. You're drawing a blank. Well, you're not exactly a weapons expert, are you? Much less on swords. You know that it could do a lot of damage – gravity did most of the damage behind your shoulder, and now that the battle's dying down, you can feel it beginning to throb. It's damaged, obviously; not quite rusty, but chipped and scratched. There is a feeling in your guts telling you that it's not going to last super long.
You lick your lips, finding your hazy reflection on the blade's marked surface. On both your hips, you become even more aware of your crowbars – and you want it. There, you fucking said it. You want the fucking sword. Like sure, it's not gonna see much use, you reckon. Fixing it would cost too much, and selling it would be a pain in the ass but… there's something about it, y'know? Like a – a trophy. Like proof, that you fought here, and fucking decimated these bitches. So you'd wake up every morning, stare at it, and then you'd be like 'fuck yeah', 'cause you're not the same gal who'd get beat up by these assholes anymore; proof that you're above them.
Fuck, now you sound like one of those psychos. You shiver, eyes straying to the gang-leader's kneeling corpse, her pale face trapped in an expression of pain, and despair; disbelief etched in her dead eyes. She said something about "being told"? With all the excitement, you don't recall much – not like she said much about it either. But there's a pit forming inside your gut; a thrown pebble that never reaches the bottom. Did the Burning Men sent her – no, that doesn't make sense. Something else. The equipment: their armors – the sword itself, damaged as it is, it would still take chunks out of your (including this mission's reward) wallet.
So what, someone's backing them up? Gave them armors, and weapons –
"How long are we going to dawdle here?" the familiar, grating voice of Hailey pierces your thought. You scowl. Your mood sours immediately. "Hey, girl, are you there – perhaps you should check your leader, quiet girl – if you truly have a thing for ogling corpses, surely there is a better time?"
"… Lily?"
"I'm fine," you growl, letting go of the sword. It teeters, before falling flat on the ground, and when the resulting cloud of dust disappears, it settles right before the gang-lead's corpse. You snort, rolling your eyes. "I'm not into fucking corpses, asshole," you spit, glaring at the Nest Dweller. He meets it with a huff, rolling his eyes. "I was thinking."
"Ah, yes, thinking," he smirks, crossing his arms together. "I am sure you are thinking something, alright."
Your eye twitches, and you stomp after him. "You motherfuck –" you stop, letting out a hiss. Shit, you raised your arm wrong. Kai takes a step, and you growl under your breath. She stops. "I'm fine," you roll your shoulders to keep a point. It fucking hurts, but it doesn't show on your face. You have dealt with worse. Kai looks at you, and this time, you don't break contact. She takes a step back, and you shake your head, taking the lead. "Let's get a move on."
"It is fine, you know," Hailey starts, idly. "People have their proclivities – and there are worser proclivities out there, as you know. Corpses are not even close to the bottom of the barrel, and I suspect you will not be running out of them anytime soon."
You're feeling a headache coming. It's similar to the headache that Mao gives you, but also different – less tolerable. More hair rising. You turn over your shoulders to give him a pointed glare. "I'm not into corpses, you fucking creep."
He raises an eyebrow, and then purses his lips. "Perhaps not," he hums, and you roll your eyes. Grunting, you turn your attention down to the street. "But – ah, I can not believe I am doing this in my vacation time – but if you any of you are, then –"
"Then what," you cut in, and you smirk at his disgruntled look. "Your little shipping company gonna box us a little corpse?"
"Something like that – though not necessarily all that."
Your smirk slides away, and you turn back down to the street. God-fucking-damnit. Nest freaks, and creepers, all of them. A shiver runs down through your spine. Well, there is that little surprise out of the goddamn box – not that you expected less; nobody's normal gonna go down from the Nest into the Backstreets for a vacation. Shady – super emphasis on 'shady' – shipping company fits the bill.
"Warren's Courier Service," the Nest Dweller suddenly says, and you close your eyes. He lets out a long-suffering sigh. "I doubt you Fixers have the money, but I suppose there is nothing bad to spread the name around."
Freaks, all of them, and it feels like you're the only sane one.
Rolled: 72.
You eventually come to a stop. Fortunately, not because another food stall, or shop caught your client's eyes. Unfortunately, it's caused by the group of Rats blocking your path. Unfortunate for them, that is. Four of them, standing ahead the narrow street, garbed in those tattered heavy jackets to fend off the cold, and layers of whatever clothes they could find. Knives, and sticks, and brass-knuckles. At the head, the leader of the Rat group shoots you a sickly smirk; eyes shaking, hands continuously twirling his butterfly knife.
Beyond, just an hour or two away from your destination. You feel a vein threatening to pop.
"You Rats are getting bold, huh," you say, after a moment. Rats attack in swarms – emphasis in swarms, outnumbering their victim. Normally they target people like you, scavenging on their hunting grounds. A stray; easy prey in their eyes. Most times, it's the normal people, dragged off from the streets into the dark alleys. "Five-on-two might make things seem in your favor, but we're Fixers, y'know that, right? There's a gang back there," you gesture your head back. "Called themselves Iron Plate Gang. They're dead now."
"Never heard of 'em," the leader snorts, but you don't miss the way his twirling knife goes faster. "But bold, eh? We'll take that as compliment."
"It's not."
"We gotta take our chances, right?" he continues, and the question's not aimed at you. Behind him, four heads nod. "Can't be Rats forever. Can't wait for some Syndicates shithead to pick us up," he licks his lips. "Gotta venture out. Gotta be bold. Gotta be brave. Tia and her gang did that, and now they're called the One-Stroke Bandits."
One-Stroke Bandits. Or Clan. Or Gang. Whichever. They're one of those Syndicates – a bunch of maniacs who kills anything that steps in front of their directionless path. They leave behind a trail of blood behind them, and those smart enough usually steer clear. They were former Rats, striking out on their own.
You roll your eyes. "If you think you're gonna be like them…" you scoff. "You're fucking delusional."
"If we die, we die!" he snarls, hunching over, whipping out his knife; the blade surprisingly sharp. "But if we live, then we thrive!"
"Well," you drawl, pulling out your knockbar. "If it's death you guys want –" a hand blocks your path. You blink, tracing the arm to Kai. "… Fuck are you doing?"
"You are wounded," you open your mouth, but she is already unsheathing her sword. A clean, and clear song of metal. Her sword's a sharp thin thing that emits a cold fog, the exact opposite of the Iron Plate Gang Leader's sword. "I am not," she steps forward. "I will take care of them."
"Now, wait a goddamn moment," you follow after her, only to stop when she stops, regarding you with a look. You furrow your eyebrows. "I don't fucking listen to you –"
"Neither do I," and your mouth shuts with a click. She meets you with a blank look, and you glare back. "I followed you. My turn. Guard the client."
You look over your shoulders, catching your client's amused smirk. Fucking asshole. "Fine. Fucking fine," you bite out, grumbling under your breath. She got a point, though you could deal with the hurt, and you'd rather be on the front. It's what you're best at, but – ugh. You take a step back. "We talk later," Kai's already approaching them. You shrug. "Mess 'em up, I guess."
A deep sigh sends your hair rising. "You two are perhaps the most adorable Fixers I have seen," Hailey titters.
You cringe, glaring at him – one eye kept at him, while the other towards Kai. "I ain't – we ain't adorable, you cumstain."
He makes a face. "Really."
"It fits."
He sighs, shaking his head. "How juvenile, but I expected as much."
Your head boils. You wanna drag him down from his porcelain throne, and rip him into pieces. You can't, you know that, and that's the fucking problem. Not just 'cause he's a client, but also 'cause everything in your body screams not to. Shady shipping company, work at desk, occasional groundworks. There's too many of those words-that-mean-other-words.
You clench your jaws tight, and ignore him. Your hand rests atop your knockbar. The leader shouts, screaming murder and his fellows follow him – a reckless charge, an attempt to overwhelm Kai. They're nuts. You open your mouth, and click it shut as Kai responds. A step to the left, and the Leader stabs empty air; a second Rat follows in before Kai could take the advantage, and she twirls around him, standing behind the Rat's stumbling body. Number three slams a pipe down, and she flows, her feet barely touching the ground. Tap, tap, taptap, she goes, ducking under the fourth's horizontal swing. Her eye, glinting cold blue – you see a flash of white, and she lashes out. Number Four does not so much try to dodge as much as he throws himself to the ground, and Kai's blade skewers him. He opens his mouth. A scream, high-pitched like the hiss of a steaming pot, and you realize that it is not the Rat who screams, but the blade. Layers of white, of frost, form where her blade pierces. Once, twice, and three times, and each time she pulls her blade away, there is no blood to be seen.
Blood becomes as ice, and flesh turns solid black.
"Quite graceful, is she not," you jump, your grip on your weapon tightening. You spare him an eye. There is a look about him that makes your skin crawl, more than usual. "It is to be expected from that Fixer's blood."
From behind her, Number 3 jumps at Kai with a roar, swinging his pipe for her neck, and Kai vanishes – leaving behind a groaning, inaudibly screaming Rat on the ground. He scrambles up to his feet. Tries to, and his left arm shatters like glass. A flash of her blade. A loud tinkling echoes in the air. They got lucky. You try to keep up with Kai and fail and succeed at the same time.
"… You know her mom?" Kai doesn't move like a blur. She's fast, but not that fast, but her feet, her legs; her limbs, they move with the flow, and complicatedness of a thousand entangled cable wires. Graceful, you idly recall what Hailey just said. That's the word. It's unlike anything you've seen. Unlike anything you've done. Your jaws clench tighter.
"Know of. She is well above me, see."
"She famous or something?"
A hum. "Suppose she is famous in certain circles," you catch him smirk. "She's called the Wonderland – Winter Wonderland, she was going to be called," a Color, you think. "But her activities suddenly dropped, and the announcement was never announced," he sighs, giggling, fat jowls jiggling. "It appears I have found the reason. Quite the small world we live in, don't you think?"
The Rat leader charges, screaming panic, and Kai merely twirls around him. A flash of white, and he falls to the floor, layers of frost forming on his leg. Number two, and three runs after her at the same time, and she simply flows around their strikes. A swing for her head whiffs, and a stab to her back meets empty air. Flashes of white, and they let out a pained cry, tumbling to the floor. A wide step forward, and another, towards the fallen Four. She twists, airborne for a good second, and her blade pierces through Four's eye as she touches ground. Flesh turns black, and the ice crawls. His hand, reaching out, moments before his death becomes as still as statue alongside his entire body, covered from head to toe in frost.
Your shoulder screams at you, and you taste iron in your mouth. Wonderland, Hailey said. "Why's she called that?"
"Because of what she leaves behind," he murmurs, and Red Mist comes to mind. Nobody doesn't know her. Tales of supposed heroics, until she vanishes suddenly. Red Mist, she's called, because that's what she leaves behind. Kai spins, her foot lifted to her thigh, before it stomps down, stopping her, facing the remaining Rats. "Entire terrain transformed into plains of ice, and beds of snow, inhabited by the alabaster sculptures of her enemies, frozen completely down into their marrows. A silent, brewing storm of snowflakes; sharp enough to cut skin – the expression of a Color; a glimpse into such an otherworldly heart," he sighs, knuckling his chin.
"You're disgusting."
Part of you wants to vomit. A larger part refuses to pull away from Kai. Her head bobs down, once, and she takes a step. Once. Twice – and that turns into a leap. The Rats laugh, and scream, and charge. The Leader reaches her – no, Kai reaches him first, and her sword pierces through his neck. He gurgled, cut immediately as she pulls away. His hands scrabble wildly as ice encases his head. He falls to the ground, and his head shatters apart into shards of brain matter, and head-organs. Number two follows his leader as Kai twists over his strike, and digs her blade into his side, down-to-up, her blade sticking out of his other shoulder. He drops to his knees, expression fearful as he freezes over, still as a statue, and you're reminded of the Iron Plate's Gang Leader.
Kai stares at the corpse, unblinking. Number three – you open your mouth, and Kai whirls around. Too late, you think, and his pipe slams over her shoulder. An audible crack echoes, and Kai tumbles through the dirt. You blink, tasting blood in your mouth, and feeling the throbbing pain in your shoulders, stiff against your neck. You let out a breath you did not know you were holding.
"… I'm disgusting, you said," Hailey chuckles, and you shoot him a glare. He smirks. "Perchance you should find a mirror, girl."
Number three gasps, breathing hoarse, hunched over. "Hah," he chokes out, blinking. "Hahah!" he throws his head out, laughing. "Hahaha –"
He stops suddenly, eyes wide as dinner plates. Kai climbs up to her feet, lone eye unblinking. Her shoulder, the one the Rat struck, bent awkwardly. Dislocated, you muse, and the Rat turns. He runs, towards you. You don't recognize the look in his eyes. Gone, you think. You ready your knockbar – only for Rat to suddenly stop, back arching, and falls forward. Stuck on his back, Kai's sword. She approaches it quietly; a loud crack echoing as she settles her bone back in, before she pulls her sword out. The Rat's corpse becomes as still as statue.
You approach her, raising an eyebrow. "Ya cool?"
Kai turns to you. "I –" she pauses, glancing to her shoulder. Then at your shoulder. "I am cool."
You nod, turning around, catch the wide grin sketched over the client's face, and grimace. "Let's go."
"Well, I can't say it was a pleasure," Hailey muses, glancing behind him, then down at his watch. Behind him, the Nest Barrier looms. A stretch of pink energy field, so opaque it denies even a glimpse of what stands behind. You see something fly – a bird – over it, and it sizzles. Simply gone. The Hello Tower stands far away inside the Nest, yet it scrapes the sky regardless, and its pink highlighted "H" symbol stares down at you. There is a post down there, for entry, guarded by five men, fully covered from head to toe with pink armor. Hanging off their shoulders, you spot guns, and hanging by their belt, briefcases. It taunts you. Everything about it, about them; the barrier, and the H symbol, and the entry outpost. They all taunt you.
"But at least it has been enlightening," Hailey laughs, pulling a thick envelope from his bag. Your eyes lock into it. "Here's your payment, and split it fairly, would you not?" he winks. "Hopefully, there will be no next time."
"My advice is to never step back here."
"My advice is find a mirror," your eyes twitch, and you consider punching him. Technically, you've done your job. You feel Kai's eye on you, focusing pointedly. "But perhaps next time I should visit District 13 instead – they've also quite the culinary scene, though perhaps slightly different than in here. Well," he rolls his shoulders, waving his hand. "Ta-ta."
You turn around almost immediately. What's the fucking point in watching the process? You'll get there eventually, sure, but not today. You look up at the sky; orange evening, nearing dark. "Guess we should hurry," you mutter, staring down at the heft envelope, slipping it down into jacket's inner pocket.
Kai nods.
You work your jaws out, and start walking. Kai walks right next to you, quiet. Graceful, the word comes back.
Two hours in, and she hasn't asked about the money. "Look," you groan out, patting at the bulge in your jacket. "How we gonna split the reward?"
Kai stares at you, pursing her lips. "Sixty-forty," you sigh. Well, you expected that. "To your favor."
You flinch, scowling at her. "Fucking what?"
She meets it head-on with an eye. "I take forty, you take –"
"I fucking heard you the first time," you snap, and she blinks. "Fucking why?" you grouse. Graceful, you think again, and your jaws tighten. "You took out most of the guys."
"I do not need –"
You spit. "And I do?"
"Yes."
It feels as though you might crush yourself with how tight you are clenching your teeth.
Pride, you know well, is a privilege that only the powerful could afford.
You are not.
Thus, you could not.
You lick your lips, finding your hazy reflection on the blade's marked surface. On both your hips, you become even more aware of your crowbars – and you want it. There, you fucking said it. You want the fucking sword. Like sure, it's not gonna see much use, you reckon. Fixing it would cost too much, and selling it would be a pain in the ass but… there's something about it, y'know? Like a – a trophy. Like proof, that you fought here, and fucking decimated these bitches. So you'd wake up every morning, stare at it, and then you'd be like 'fuck yeah', 'cause you're not the same gal who'd get beat up by these assholes anymore; proof that you're above them.
Fuck, now you sound like one of those psychos. You shiver, eyes straying to the gang-leader's kneeling corpse, her pale face trapped in an expression of pain, and despair; disbelief etched in her dead eyes. She said something about "being told"? With all the excitement, you don't recall much – not like she said much about it either. But there's a pit forming inside your gut; a thrown pebble that never reaches the bottom. Did the Burning Men sent her – no, that doesn't make sense. Something else. The equipment: their armors – the sword itself, damaged as it is, it would still take chunks out of your (including this mission's reward) wallet.
So what, someone's backing them up? Gave them armors, and weapons –
"How long are we going to dawdle here?" the familiar, grating voice of Hailey pierces your thought. You scowl. Your mood sours immediately. "Hey, girl, are you there – perhaps you should check your leader, quiet girl – if you truly have a thing for ogling corpses, surely there is a better time?"
"… Lily?"
"I'm fine," you growl, letting go of the sword. It teeters, before falling flat on the ground, and when the resulting cloud of dust disappears, it settles right before the gang-lead's corpse. You snort, rolling your eyes. "I'm not into fucking corpses, asshole," you spit, glaring at the Nest Dweller. He meets it with a huff, rolling his eyes. "I was thinking."
"Ah, yes, thinking," he smirks, crossing his arms together. "I am sure you are thinking something, alright."
Your eye twitches, and you stomp after him. "You motherfuck –" you stop, letting out a hiss. Shit, you raised your arm wrong. Kai takes a step, and you growl under your breath. She stops. "I'm fine," you roll your shoulders to keep a point. It fucking hurts, but it doesn't show on your face. You have dealt with worse. Kai looks at you, and this time, you don't break contact. She takes a step back, and you shake your head, taking the lead. "Let's get a move on."
"It is fine, you know," Hailey starts, idly. "People have their proclivities – and there are worser proclivities out there, as you know. Corpses are not even close to the bottom of the barrel, and I suspect you will not be running out of them anytime soon."
You're feeling a headache coming. It's similar to the headache that Mao gives you, but also different – less tolerable. More hair rising. You turn over your shoulders to give him a pointed glare. "I'm not into corpses, you fucking creep."
He raises an eyebrow, and then purses his lips. "Perhaps not," he hums, and you roll your eyes. Grunting, you turn your attention down to the street. "But – ah, I can not believe I am doing this in my vacation time – but if you any of you are, then –"
"Then what," you cut in, and you smirk at his disgruntled look. "Your little shipping company gonna box us a little corpse?"
"Something like that – though not necessarily all that."
Your smirk slides away, and you turn back down to the street. God-fucking-damnit. Nest freaks, and creepers, all of them. A shiver runs down through your spine. Well, there is that little surprise out of the goddamn box – not that you expected less; nobody's normal gonna go down from the Nest into the Backstreets for a vacation. Shady – super emphasis on 'shady' – shipping company fits the bill.
"Warren's Courier Service," the Nest Dweller suddenly says, and you close your eyes. He lets out a long-suffering sigh. "I doubt you Fixers have the money, but I suppose there is nothing bad to spread the name around."
Freaks, all of them, and it feels like you're the only sane one.
---
Rolled: 72.
You eventually come to a stop. Fortunately, not because another food stall, or shop caught your client's eyes. Unfortunately, it's caused by the group of Rats blocking your path. Unfortunate for them, that is. Four of them, standing ahead the narrow street, garbed in those tattered heavy jackets to fend off the cold, and layers of whatever clothes they could find. Knives, and sticks, and brass-knuckles. At the head, the leader of the Rat group shoots you a sickly smirk; eyes shaking, hands continuously twirling his butterfly knife.
Beyond, just an hour or two away from your destination. You feel a vein threatening to pop.
"You Rats are getting bold, huh," you say, after a moment. Rats attack in swarms – emphasis in swarms, outnumbering their victim. Normally they target people like you, scavenging on their hunting grounds. A stray; easy prey in their eyes. Most times, it's the normal people, dragged off from the streets into the dark alleys. "Five-on-two might make things seem in your favor, but we're Fixers, y'know that, right? There's a gang back there," you gesture your head back. "Called themselves Iron Plate Gang. They're dead now."
"Never heard of 'em," the leader snorts, but you don't miss the way his twirling knife goes faster. "But bold, eh? We'll take that as compliment."
"It's not."
"We gotta take our chances, right?" he continues, and the question's not aimed at you. Behind him, four heads nod. "Can't be Rats forever. Can't wait for some Syndicates shithead to pick us up," he licks his lips. "Gotta venture out. Gotta be bold. Gotta be brave. Tia and her gang did that, and now they're called the One-Stroke Bandits."
One-Stroke Bandits. Or Clan. Or Gang. Whichever. They're one of those Syndicates – a bunch of maniacs who kills anything that steps in front of their directionless path. They leave behind a trail of blood behind them, and those smart enough usually steer clear. They were former Rats, striking out on their own.
You roll your eyes. "If you think you're gonna be like them…" you scoff. "You're fucking delusional."
"If we die, we die!" he snarls, hunching over, whipping out his knife; the blade surprisingly sharp. "But if we live, then we thrive!"
"Well," you drawl, pulling out your knockbar. "If it's death you guys want –" a hand blocks your path. You blink, tracing the arm to Kai. "… Fuck are you doing?"
"You are wounded," you open your mouth, but she is already unsheathing her sword. A clean, and clear song of metal. Her sword's a sharp thin thing that emits a cold fog, the exact opposite of the Iron Plate Gang Leader's sword. "I am not," she steps forward. "I will take care of them."
"Now, wait a goddamn moment," you follow after her, only to stop when she stops, regarding you with a look. You furrow your eyebrows. "I don't fucking listen to you –"
"Neither do I," and your mouth shuts with a click. She meets you with a blank look, and you glare back. "I followed you. My turn. Guard the client."
You look over your shoulders, catching your client's amused smirk. Fucking asshole. "Fine. Fucking fine," you bite out, grumbling under your breath. She got a point, though you could deal with the hurt, and you'd rather be on the front. It's what you're best at, but – ugh. You take a step back. "We talk later," Kai's already approaching them. You shrug. "Mess 'em up, I guess."
A deep sigh sends your hair rising. "You two are perhaps the most adorable Fixers I have seen," Hailey titters.
You cringe, glaring at him – one eye kept at him, while the other towards Kai. "I ain't – we ain't adorable, you cumstain."
He makes a face. "Really."
"It fits."
He sighs, shaking his head. "How juvenile, but I expected as much."
Your head boils. You wanna drag him down from his porcelain throne, and rip him into pieces. You can't, you know that, and that's the fucking problem. Not just 'cause he's a client, but also 'cause everything in your body screams not to. Shady shipping company, work at desk, occasional groundworks. There's too many of those words-that-mean-other-words.
You clench your jaws tight, and ignore him. Your hand rests atop your knockbar. The leader shouts, screaming murder and his fellows follow him – a reckless charge, an attempt to overwhelm Kai. They're nuts. You open your mouth, and click it shut as Kai responds. A step to the left, and the Leader stabs empty air; a second Rat follows in before Kai could take the advantage, and she twirls around him, standing behind the Rat's stumbling body. Number three slams a pipe down, and she flows, her feet barely touching the ground. Tap, tap, taptap, she goes, ducking under the fourth's horizontal swing. Her eye, glinting cold blue – you see a flash of white, and she lashes out. Number Four does not so much try to dodge as much as he throws himself to the ground, and Kai's blade skewers him. He opens his mouth. A scream, high-pitched like the hiss of a steaming pot, and you realize that it is not the Rat who screams, but the blade. Layers of white, of frost, form where her blade pierces. Once, twice, and three times, and each time she pulls her blade away, there is no blood to be seen.
Blood becomes as ice, and flesh turns solid black.
"Quite graceful, is she not," you jump, your grip on your weapon tightening. You spare him an eye. There is a look about him that makes your skin crawl, more than usual. "It is to be expected from that Fixer's blood."
From behind her, Number 3 jumps at Kai with a roar, swinging his pipe for her neck, and Kai vanishes – leaving behind a groaning, inaudibly screaming Rat on the ground. He scrambles up to his feet. Tries to, and his left arm shatters like glass. A flash of her blade. A loud tinkling echoes in the air. They got lucky. You try to keep up with Kai and fail and succeed at the same time.
"… You know her mom?" Kai doesn't move like a blur. She's fast, but not that fast, but her feet, her legs; her limbs, they move with the flow, and complicatedness of a thousand entangled cable wires. Graceful, you idly recall what Hailey just said. That's the word. It's unlike anything you've seen. Unlike anything you've done. Your jaws clench tighter.
"Know of. She is well above me, see."
"She famous or something?"
A hum. "Suppose she is famous in certain circles," you catch him smirk. "She's called the Wonderland – Winter Wonderland, she was going to be called," a Color, you think. "But her activities suddenly dropped, and the announcement was never announced," he sighs, giggling, fat jowls jiggling. "It appears I have found the reason. Quite the small world we live in, don't you think?"
The Rat leader charges, screaming panic, and Kai merely twirls around him. A flash of white, and he falls to the floor, layers of frost forming on his leg. Number two, and three runs after her at the same time, and she simply flows around their strikes. A swing for her head whiffs, and a stab to her back meets empty air. Flashes of white, and they let out a pained cry, tumbling to the floor. A wide step forward, and another, towards the fallen Four. She twists, airborne for a good second, and her blade pierces through Four's eye as she touches ground. Flesh turns black, and the ice crawls. His hand, reaching out, moments before his death becomes as still as statue alongside his entire body, covered from head to toe in frost.
Your shoulder screams at you, and you taste iron in your mouth. Wonderland, Hailey said. "Why's she called that?"
"Because of what she leaves behind," he murmurs, and Red Mist comes to mind. Nobody doesn't know her. Tales of supposed heroics, until she vanishes suddenly. Red Mist, she's called, because that's what she leaves behind. Kai spins, her foot lifted to her thigh, before it stomps down, stopping her, facing the remaining Rats. "Entire terrain transformed into plains of ice, and beds of snow, inhabited by the alabaster sculptures of her enemies, frozen completely down into their marrows. A silent, brewing storm of snowflakes; sharp enough to cut skin – the expression of a Color; a glimpse into such an otherworldly heart," he sighs, knuckling his chin.
"You're disgusting."
Part of you wants to vomit. A larger part refuses to pull away from Kai. Her head bobs down, once, and she takes a step. Once. Twice – and that turns into a leap. The Rats laugh, and scream, and charge. The Leader reaches her – no, Kai reaches him first, and her sword pierces through his neck. He gurgled, cut immediately as she pulls away. His hands scrabble wildly as ice encases his head. He falls to the ground, and his head shatters apart into shards of brain matter, and head-organs. Number two follows his leader as Kai twists over his strike, and digs her blade into his side, down-to-up, her blade sticking out of his other shoulder. He drops to his knees, expression fearful as he freezes over, still as a statue, and you're reminded of the Iron Plate's Gang Leader.
Kai stares at the corpse, unblinking. Number three – you open your mouth, and Kai whirls around. Too late, you think, and his pipe slams over her shoulder. An audible crack echoes, and Kai tumbles through the dirt. You blink, tasting blood in your mouth, and feeling the throbbing pain in your shoulders, stiff against your neck. You let out a breath you did not know you were holding.
"… I'm disgusting, you said," Hailey chuckles, and you shoot him a glare. He smirks. "Perchance you should find a mirror, girl."
Number three gasps, breathing hoarse, hunched over. "Hah," he chokes out, blinking. "Hahah!" he throws his head out, laughing. "Hahaha –"
He stops suddenly, eyes wide as dinner plates. Kai climbs up to her feet, lone eye unblinking. Her shoulder, the one the Rat struck, bent awkwardly. Dislocated, you muse, and the Rat turns. He runs, towards you. You don't recognize the look in his eyes. Gone, you think. You ready your knockbar – only for Rat to suddenly stop, back arching, and falls forward. Stuck on his back, Kai's sword. She approaches it quietly; a loud crack echoing as she settles her bone back in, before she pulls her sword out. The Rat's corpse becomes as still as statue.
You approach her, raising an eyebrow. "Ya cool?"
Kai turns to you. "I –" she pauses, glancing to her shoulder. Then at your shoulder. "I am cool."
You nod, turning around, catch the wide grin sketched over the client's face, and grimace. "Let's go."
…
"Well, I can't say it was a pleasure," Hailey muses, glancing behind him, then down at his watch. Behind him, the Nest Barrier looms. A stretch of pink energy field, so opaque it denies even a glimpse of what stands behind. You see something fly – a bird – over it, and it sizzles. Simply gone. The Hello Tower stands far away inside the Nest, yet it scrapes the sky regardless, and its pink highlighted "H" symbol stares down at you. There is a post down there, for entry, guarded by five men, fully covered from head to toe with pink armor. Hanging off their shoulders, you spot guns, and hanging by their belt, briefcases. It taunts you. Everything about it, about them; the barrier, and the H symbol, and the entry outpost. They all taunt you.
"But at least it has been enlightening," Hailey laughs, pulling a thick envelope from his bag. Your eyes lock into it. "Here's your payment, and split it fairly, would you not?" he winks. "Hopefully, there will be no next time."
"My advice is to never step back here."
"My advice is find a mirror," your eyes twitch, and you consider punching him. Technically, you've done your job. You feel Kai's eye on you, focusing pointedly. "But perhaps next time I should visit District 13 instead – they've also quite the culinary scene, though perhaps slightly different than in here. Well," he rolls his shoulders, waving his hand. "Ta-ta."
You turn around almost immediately. What's the fucking point in watching the process? You'll get there eventually, sure, but not today. You look up at the sky; orange evening, nearing dark. "Guess we should hurry," you mutter, staring down at the heft envelope, slipping it down into jacket's inner pocket.
Kai nods.
You work your jaws out, and start walking. Kai walks right next to you, quiet. Graceful, the word comes back.
Two hours in, and she hasn't asked about the money. "Look," you groan out, patting at the bulge in your jacket. "How we gonna split the reward?"
Kai stares at you, pursing her lips. "Sixty-forty," you sigh. Well, you expected that. "To your favor."
You flinch, scowling at her. "Fucking what?"
She meets it head-on with an eye. "I take forty, you take –"
"I fucking heard you the first time," you snap, and she blinks. "Fucking why?" you grouse. Graceful, you think again, and your jaws tighten. "You took out most of the guys."
"I do not need –"
You spit. "And I do?"
"Yes."
It feels as though you might crush yourself with how tight you are clenching your teeth.
Pride, you know well, is a privilege that only the powerful could afford.
You are not.
Thus, you could not.
Article: How do you split the money?
[] Sixty-Forty In Your Favor. Kai doesn't mind, she said. You do. Reward: 630,000 Ahn.
[] Fifty-Fifty Fair. Fair. It's not, really. But it's as decided. It'll do. Reward: 525,000 Ahn.
[] Forty-Sixty In Her Favor. She doesn't need it. You do. You'll deal with it. Reward: 420,000 Ahn.
For Finishing your First (Technically Second) Urban Myth Mission, You Are Rewarded With: 650 XP! Vote in Plans for XP Allocation!
Additionall, You Have Recovered from 21/30 Health back to 24/30 - Lightly Injured!
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Alectai
Speaks Words of Wisdom... On occasion
I...
Ugh T_T
So, was that an encounter that was so low tier that it just ran into "Kai basically one turn kills them so there's no point making it a decision point?"
No wonder she's a beast though, she's the daughter of someone who could have been a Color, and apparently inherited her signature weapon.
And meanwhile, we've got Lily, who's just an ordinary human being--as much meaning as that has in the Epic Stage Capitalism hellscape that is The City.
Ugh T_T
So, was that an encounter that was so low tier that it just ran into "Kai basically one turn kills them so there's no point making it a decision point?"
No wonder she's a beast though, she's the daughter of someone who could have been a Color, and apparently inherited her signature weapon.
And meanwhile, we've got Lily, who's just an ordinary human being--as much meaning as that has in the Epic Stage Capitalism hellscape that is The City.
SoothingCoffee
Umumumu
- Location
- The Library
Oh yeah, I forgot to add the roll into the text. Should be added now. But yeah. You rolled 72. Just baaareely from the No Encounter Zone.
Additionally, I forgot to add in the XP reward, which I have also already added.
Alectai
Speaks Words of Wisdom... On occasion
Hah.
Looks like the gamble paid off then, Lily only lightly wounded, a good payout, and a good pile of XP.
Hmm, push Justice or Temperance up to Rank II maybe?
- Location
- Somewhere!
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I wonder what kind of "couriers" could just... get a corpse on demand. They're not W Corp, wrong name, but that's the only association I can put to it - transport and the letter W, I guess.
Couriers of... particular packages? People? Would the city even need human trafficking or anything?
SoothingCoffee
Umumumu
- Location
- The Library
Well, they're your average shipping/courier company. Sometimes you want to send an item from say, District 17 down to District 13 without actually doing the transport yourself. Sometimes, those items can come in bulk, and sometimes those items are on the fragile side. At that point, it's just better to hire a 3rd party. It's cheaper (relatively speaking), and overall less dangerous.