- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Exorcise them all, and try to close that portal.
Seeing Chaos: A Jujutsu Kaisen/WH40K Quest
- Thread starter Azremodehar
- Start date
- Location
- USA
[X] Exorcise them all, and try to close that portal.
[X] Exorcise them all, and try to close that portal.
- Location
- Earth
- Pronouns
- He/Him/They/Them
[X] Exorcise them all, and try to close that portal.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Exorcise them all, and try to close that portal.
[X] Exorcise them all, and try to close that portal.
Ando Owen
Yandere Illya is watching you.
- Location
- Montpellier
[X] Exorcise them all, and try to close that portal.
It's not that much of a choice. We have every reason to crush everything, and dealing with the easy job first is better when you have a delicate job to do and you can deal with bothers first.
It would be preferable if we had choices with clear consequences tied to them. So far, the only important choices we had were about how much of our story do we share to the inquisitor, should we try to work with the inquisitor and how, and how much of our power and techniques are we willing to demonstrate to the inquisitor and to the daemons we would crush.
It's not that much of a choice. We have every reason to crush everything, and dealing with the easy job first is better when you have a delicate job to do and you can deal with bothers first.
It would be preferable if we had choices with clear consequences tied to them. So far, the only important choices we had were about how much of our story do we share to the inquisitor, should we try to work with the inquisitor and how, and how much of our power and techniques are we willing to demonstrate to the inquisitor and to the daemons we would crush.
- Location
- The Internet
I'll try to do better in the future.
[X] Exorcise them all, and try to close that portal.
[X] Exorcise them all, and try to close that portal.
Can Gojo output RCT? If he can, we really should heal that Psyker when we return to the others.
Can Gojo output RCT? If he can, we really should heal that Psyker when we return to the others.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Gojo can only use RCT on himself.
- Location
- The Internet
Vote closed.
15
New
- Location
- The Internet
First thing's first, you need to get rid of some of these daemons. You start by rising above them, just to the outside of the dome of your veil, so they can't harass you while you plot their demise. Because there are a lot of them crammed in there, and more with every moment, as they continue to spill from the portal.
You have never seen so many curses in one place. Never imagined so many in one place--hell, before now, you could barely imagine this many curses existing, period. Where they hell are they all coming from? Aside from the obvious; the portal that they're spilling through is obvious to your eyes, but the question is where did the portal come from? Not to mention where does it go? And who the hell opened it?
You have questions, and you're going to shake them out of whatever curse-user is responsible--providing they're still alive to be shaken, anyway. Unless you're looking at another cursed spirit manipulator, you can't see many people surviving this kind of thing. Especially not with those plague curses--
Yeah, no. No, that would kill anyone except you.
You take several long seconds to scan the seething horde for signs of a human curse-user, but find nothing. If there are any residuals, even you can't pick them out under the mass of daemons. There are just. Too damned many.
You never thought you might end up with some kind of sensory overload from just looking at curses, but there's a first time for everything. So before it comes to that, you drop back under the veil, and drop a maximum output Blue right into the centre of the horde. Like you told Elias and Davus, this sort of thing is a target-rich environment, and at this point in your life (existence) you could probably do this while asleep.
Not that sleep is going to be an option for you in the near future, but you were prepared for a fight when you went into the Prison Realm, and despite the staggering amount of time that passed between then and now, you were prepared for one when you finally got out, too, and for you, that means the possibility of days spent without rest if necessary.
That's what RCT is for.
(Sleep is for the weak, anyway.)
You roll another horrible Katamari up, leaving swathes of gouged, mangled, and disintegrated land in the wake of it as well. It's a horror show, and it's still in better shape than it was when you found it. Cleaner, at any rate.
You spend five whole seconds crushing curses and everything else around you into a singularity, and still there are more of them.
Another five seconds, and you start to wonder if maybe Red wouldn't have been more appropriate: drop it in the centre of the horde, and crush them between it and your very fine veil. This 'fight' is starting to get boring. It's hard to really feel the stakes when the only people you're aware of are more than fifty kilometres away, and well out of range of anything that might trouble them.
You end the technique, and survey the remaining daemons. This time, they all keep a respectful distance from you.
For a second, at least, before the reinforcements still coming from the portal push them forward across the scarred ground, and the less intelligent flies swarm your way, and for a second, you let them.
Two seconds, and you raise your finger.
Three, and you slam them with Red, hopefully nuking the diseased miasma as well; you kow that it was being sucked up by Blue, because that is the nature of the technique, but you're a little less certain about Red.
You gauge your output for Red to just under what the veil can handle, and it pays off when the blast leaves only a handful of the toughest--or luckiest--curses (daemons, damn it) standing. Just your luck, they're all the nasty, putrescent sort--the kind you want to keep your fists, even covered in Infinity, well away from.
"So!" you call out into the void left by your technique. "Anyone want to have a little chit-chat? Tell me who opened the portal? No?" You make a show of cracking your knuckles anyway, as another ten daemons, these the snarling humanoids you first encountered here, the sort you can punch, if you want.
You might want. It would be less boring.
None of them answer you, and you consider for half a second that they might not be able to in the condition that you've left them, before exorcising the rest of the visibly-stinking lot.
You didn't really want to talk to them, anyway.
"And what about you?" you ask the new group, popping your knuckles again as you approach them. One merely gives you a fang-filled grin and brandishes its jagged sword in a challenge.
"I will speak if you defeat me," it says, in a voice like a thousand battle-screams. "Without using any of your tricks."
You pop your neck, and grin.
"How about I beat all ten of you? I promise I'll leave you-" you point at it "-for last, so you can talk. But I won't stop using my 'tricks' any more than you will."
"A Bloodmaster of Khorne needs no tricks!" it snarls at you, and the ten of them come for you in a well-coordinated attack that has you dancing and dodging around them for a few seconds to get a feel for things, before you start laying in with your fists again.
It's not hard; in some ways, it's easier than it was fighting that giant first-grade not-Balrog curse--daemon. There are enough of them though to have you covered from every angle, no matter how you dodge, which is a distinct advantage that they have over their larger cousin. They're also fast, and strong, if not as fast or strong as the not-Balrog (Bloodthirster, if you recall), and they have enough skill to entertain you for a while, if you were inclined to let them. You aren't, but you'll let them think you are, for just a little bit.
You pull Infinity in closer to yourself, and exchange a few blows, before abruptly snatching the sword-arm of one, and wrenching it clean off. Rather than intimidating the daemons, that just seems to drive them further into a battle frenzy, and they react by attacking you with renewed vigour, and reduced coordination--only slightly, but enough for you to notice.
Another ten of their fellows join them through the portal, though, and you decide it's time to stop screwing around, and just beat. Them. Down.
You don't take your time; this may be a warzone but you're sure you have better things to do with your time. Like finding out if the future still has white mocha caramel lattes. (Please, future, still have white mocha caramel lattes.)
In the end, nineteen more daemons are exorcised, and one remains, a head and a torso otherwise limbless and weaponless, soundly defeated and mad about it.
"I'm going to exorcise you," you remind it, patiently. "It's just a matter of whether you're going to hold up your offer first."
It snarls back defiantly and actually tries to bite your leg--you can't fault its tenacity, anyway. You let its jaws close around Infinity, before pointedly kicking it off, and right into a churned up clump of earth, before slamming your foot down on its chest, pinning it in place.
You feel something crunch. Whoops.
"You said you'd talk, so, talk."
It spits out something about your worthiness--or lack thereof.
"Nope. Wrong. I am the most worthy in all the heavens," you inform it. "So--" The crackle of your radio cuts you off.
"Gojo, report," comes Elias' voice, the same as before. You hold up a finger to the daemon, and activate the radio.
"Liiiittle busy," you reply, idly applying more pressure to the daemon's torso. It snarls at you again.
"Is that a daemon?" Elias snaps.
"Mm-hmm. I'm in the middle of an interrogation." A little more pressure, and you feel something else—something tjat feels like cartilage—give. The daemon writhes and howls with rage in response, and tries, once again, to sink its teeth into you.
"You are not," Elias starts. "You cannot," he continues.
"I am and I can. Relax, it's not my first time." You consider the daemon critically; is there any more of it you could practically remove under battlefield conditions?
"Say," you say, leaning in closer to the daemon. "Would you survive having your head ripped off? Or are you too weak? See, other curses—sorry, daemons—I've interrogated survived that—well, one of them did—and—"
"Gojo," Elias starts again, and you ignore his next words (mostly, he says something about just killing it) in favour of exorcising the next wave through the portal. You really ought to shut that thing down.
You apply more pressure to the daemon to keep it in place, and press the radio button again.
"Just a minute, I'm working on the portal. Don't interrupt me."
The portal is a chaotic whorl of cursed energy, and to your eyes it looks like nothing so much as the myriad threads of a torn piece of silk, edges fluttering futilely, unmatching and warped by pressure and shearing forces. It seethes with power, those threads seeming almost to have a mind of their own, ravelling and unravelling and forming new pattern before your eyes, an endlessly unfolding fractal that threatens to draw you in.
Fortunately, your studies are interrupted by another wave of daemons coming through, so that hypnotic sight doesn't get a chance to further get its fingers into your mind. You take them apart like you had the others, still not moving from where you have the one daemon pinned.
"Elias, hey," you greet as you press the radio button again. "Still working on the portal, but I have to say, I've never seen anything like this before."The admission is galling, but it's not like you can stay here just exorcising curses forever. For the sake of the people of this world, you need it shut down sooner rather than later. "I'm not sure if it's safe or not-" you think it is, but disease is tricky outside your own body "-but do you or the psyker—what was her name?—know anything about portals?"
Thirty long seconds pass (you spend the time trying to get the daemon to talk again) before Elias answers.
"Calvara will assisst you," he says. "I will hold here, with Davus."
"Got it. Be right there." You use your toes to break another probably-rib in the daemon's torso. "Still don't wanna talk?"
A wordless snarl is your only reply this time.
[] Exorcise it.
[] Keep it and try again once the portal is handled.
-[] Seal it.
-[] Don't bother
[] Something else? (Write in.)
That handled, you teleport back to where Elias is waiting with Davus, Calvara (apparently), and the assorted soldiers. Said soldiers are deployed in a run around the safe zone, mechanically working through the ranks of the daemons outside the veil.
"Calvara, I presume?" you ask the psyker. She nods, shortly.
"I am prepared to render assisstance with the portal," she says grimly. Elias nods an affirmation.
"She is capable," he says.
There are some undercurrents here that you know you don't quite follow—both Elias and Calvara are far too grim for one thing—but you don't have time to pick things apart right now, so you place a hand on her shoulder, and say:
"Relax. You probably won't die." And teleport back to the portal with her.
Before you go…
[] Cover her with Infinity.
[] It's safe enough; you can protect her without it.
You have never seen so many curses in one place. Never imagined so many in one place--hell, before now, you could barely imagine this many curses existing, period. Where they hell are they all coming from? Aside from the obvious; the portal that they're spilling through is obvious to your eyes, but the question is where did the portal come from? Not to mention where does it go? And who the hell opened it?
You have questions, and you're going to shake them out of whatever curse-user is responsible--providing they're still alive to be shaken, anyway. Unless you're looking at another cursed spirit manipulator, you can't see many people surviving this kind of thing. Especially not with those plague curses--
Yeah, no. No, that would kill anyone except you.
You take several long seconds to scan the seething horde for signs of a human curse-user, but find nothing. If there are any residuals, even you can't pick them out under the mass of daemons. There are just. Too damned many.
You never thought you might end up with some kind of sensory overload from just looking at curses, but there's a first time for everything. So before it comes to that, you drop back under the veil, and drop a maximum output Blue right into the centre of the horde. Like you told Elias and Davus, this sort of thing is a target-rich environment, and at this point in your life (existence) you could probably do this while asleep.
Not that sleep is going to be an option for you in the near future, but you were prepared for a fight when you went into the Prison Realm, and despite the staggering amount of time that passed between then and now, you were prepared for one when you finally got out, too, and for you, that means the possibility of days spent without rest if necessary.
That's what RCT is for.
(Sleep is for the weak, anyway.)
You roll another horrible Katamari up, leaving swathes of gouged, mangled, and disintegrated land in the wake of it as well. It's a horror show, and it's still in better shape than it was when you found it. Cleaner, at any rate.
You spend five whole seconds crushing curses and everything else around you into a singularity, and still there are more of them.
Another five seconds, and you start to wonder if maybe Red wouldn't have been more appropriate: drop it in the centre of the horde, and crush them between it and your very fine veil. This 'fight' is starting to get boring. It's hard to really feel the stakes when the only people you're aware of are more than fifty kilometres away, and well out of range of anything that might trouble them.
You end the technique, and survey the remaining daemons. This time, they all keep a respectful distance from you.
For a second, at least, before the reinforcements still coming from the portal push them forward across the scarred ground, and the less intelligent flies swarm your way, and for a second, you let them.
Two seconds, and you raise your finger.
Three, and you slam them with Red, hopefully nuking the diseased miasma as well; you kow that it was being sucked up by Blue, because that is the nature of the technique, but you're a little less certain about Red.
You gauge your output for Red to just under what the veil can handle, and it pays off when the blast leaves only a handful of the toughest--or luckiest--curses (daemons, damn it) standing. Just your luck, they're all the nasty, putrescent sort--the kind you want to keep your fists, even covered in Infinity, well away from.
"So!" you call out into the void left by your technique. "Anyone want to have a little chit-chat? Tell me who opened the portal? No?" You make a show of cracking your knuckles anyway, as another ten daemons, these the snarling humanoids you first encountered here, the sort you can punch, if you want.
You might want. It would be less boring.
None of them answer you, and you consider for half a second that they might not be able to in the condition that you've left them, before exorcising the rest of the visibly-stinking lot.
You didn't really want to talk to them, anyway.
"And what about you?" you ask the new group, popping your knuckles again as you approach them. One merely gives you a fang-filled grin and brandishes its jagged sword in a challenge.
"I will speak if you defeat me," it says, in a voice like a thousand battle-screams. "Without using any of your tricks."
You pop your neck, and grin.
"How about I beat all ten of you? I promise I'll leave you-" you point at it "-for last, so you can talk. But I won't stop using my 'tricks' any more than you will."
"A Bloodmaster of Khorne needs no tricks!" it snarls at you, and the ten of them come for you in a well-coordinated attack that has you dancing and dodging around them for a few seconds to get a feel for things, before you start laying in with your fists again.
It's not hard; in some ways, it's easier than it was fighting that giant first-grade not-Balrog curse--daemon. There are enough of them though to have you covered from every angle, no matter how you dodge, which is a distinct advantage that they have over their larger cousin. They're also fast, and strong, if not as fast or strong as the not-Balrog (Bloodthirster, if you recall), and they have enough skill to entertain you for a while, if you were inclined to let them. You aren't, but you'll let them think you are, for just a little bit.
You pull Infinity in closer to yourself, and exchange a few blows, before abruptly snatching the sword-arm of one, and wrenching it clean off. Rather than intimidating the daemons, that just seems to drive them further into a battle frenzy, and they react by attacking you with renewed vigour, and reduced coordination--only slightly, but enough for you to notice.
Another ten of their fellows join them through the portal, though, and you decide it's time to stop screwing around, and just beat. Them. Down.
You don't take your time; this may be a warzone but you're sure you have better things to do with your time. Like finding out if the future still has white mocha caramel lattes. (Please, future, still have white mocha caramel lattes.)
In the end, nineteen more daemons are exorcised, and one remains, a head and a torso otherwise limbless and weaponless, soundly defeated and mad about it.
"I'm going to exorcise you," you remind it, patiently. "It's just a matter of whether you're going to hold up your offer first."
It snarls back defiantly and actually tries to bite your leg--you can't fault its tenacity, anyway. You let its jaws close around Infinity, before pointedly kicking it off, and right into a churned up clump of earth, before slamming your foot down on its chest, pinning it in place.
You feel something crunch. Whoops.
"You said you'd talk, so, talk."
It spits out something about your worthiness--or lack thereof.
"Nope. Wrong. I am the most worthy in all the heavens," you inform it. "So--" The crackle of your radio cuts you off.
"Gojo, report," comes Elias' voice, the same as before. You hold up a finger to the daemon, and activate the radio.
"Liiiittle busy," you reply, idly applying more pressure to the daemon's torso. It snarls at you again.
"Is that a daemon?" Elias snaps.
"Mm-hmm. I'm in the middle of an interrogation." A little more pressure, and you feel something else—something tjat feels like cartilage—give. The daemon writhes and howls with rage in response, and tries, once again, to sink its teeth into you.
"You are not," Elias starts. "You cannot," he continues.
"I am and I can. Relax, it's not my first time." You consider the daemon critically; is there any more of it you could practically remove under battlefield conditions?
"Say," you say, leaning in closer to the daemon. "Would you survive having your head ripped off? Or are you too weak? See, other curses—sorry, daemons—I've interrogated survived that—well, one of them did—and—"
"Gojo," Elias starts again, and you ignore his next words (mostly, he says something about just killing it) in favour of exorcising the next wave through the portal. You really ought to shut that thing down.
You apply more pressure to the daemon to keep it in place, and press the radio button again.
"Just a minute, I'm working on the portal. Don't interrupt me."
The portal is a chaotic whorl of cursed energy, and to your eyes it looks like nothing so much as the myriad threads of a torn piece of silk, edges fluttering futilely, unmatching and warped by pressure and shearing forces. It seethes with power, those threads seeming almost to have a mind of their own, ravelling and unravelling and forming new pattern before your eyes, an endlessly unfolding fractal that threatens to draw you in.
Fortunately, your studies are interrupted by another wave of daemons coming through, so that hypnotic sight doesn't get a chance to further get its fingers into your mind. You take them apart like you had the others, still not moving from where you have the one daemon pinned.
"Elias, hey," you greet as you press the radio button again. "Still working on the portal, but I have to say, I've never seen anything like this before."The admission is galling, but it's not like you can stay here just exorcising curses forever. For the sake of the people of this world, you need it shut down sooner rather than later. "I'm not sure if it's safe or not-" you think it is, but disease is tricky outside your own body "-but do you or the psyker—what was her name?—know anything about portals?"
Thirty long seconds pass (you spend the time trying to get the daemon to talk again) before Elias answers.
"Calvara will assisst you," he says. "I will hold here, with Davus."
"Got it. Be right there." You use your toes to break another probably-rib in the daemon's torso. "Still don't wanna talk?"
A wordless snarl is your only reply this time.
[] Exorcise it.
[] Keep it and try again once the portal is handled.
-[] Seal it.
-[] Don't bother
[] Something else? (Write in.)
That handled, you teleport back to where Elias is waiting with Davus, Calvara (apparently), and the assorted soldiers. Said soldiers are deployed in a run around the safe zone, mechanically working through the ranks of the daemons outside the veil.
"Calvara, I presume?" you ask the psyker. She nods, shortly.
"I am prepared to render assisstance with the portal," she says grimly. Elias nods an affirmation.
"She is capable," he says.
There are some undercurrents here that you know you don't quite follow—both Elias and Calvara are far too grim for one thing—but you don't have time to pick things apart right now, so you place a hand on her shoulder, and say:
"Relax. You probably won't die." And teleport back to the portal with her.
Before you go…
[] Cover her with Infinity.
[] It's safe enough; you can protect her without it.
- Location
- USA
[X] Cover her with Infinity.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Exorcise it.
[X] Cover her with Infinity.
Didn't know Gojo could do this.
[X] Cover her with Infinity.
Didn't know Gojo could do this.
- Location
- The Internet
Suffice to say you don't spend the better part of 40 millennia contemplating your own navel without getting a few new options. They'll come up as they become relevant.
LordOfMurder
Bhaal
- Location
- Australia
[X] Exorcise it.
[X] Cover her with Infinity.
[X] Cover her with Infinity.