*Hey, Yvonne! Sorry for the slow response, it took a while for me to formulate anything.*
Slopnik and the other two are arguing in the next room. Typhon is the most upset out of the three, while Salt seems to be trying to mediate. It seems to be about how each of them will contribute to the plan. Gardziel wants to throw himself into fray as soon as humanly possible, Typhon wants to use some sort of self-detonation spell to become a martyr for his 'god,' and Slopnik thinks every plan anyone other than him has made is stupid to a level that he 'cannot adequately Express without vulgarity.'
Adeline sees some smoke in the distance, and hears some chanting. It's not the usual chanting. In fact, it sounds a little like an angry mob.
*Thank you for your patience! It took me a while to formulate things too lol.*
Helianth finishes sorting out its supplies before entering the next room, having listened to their arguments for a minute and deciding now is the time to enter the conversation. "Hello again, gentlemen. If I could, I'd like to offer my thoughts on the matter." It starts, turning its gaze to Typhon. "While I greatly appreciate your enthusiasm to aid in our cause, it's unwise to lead with the martyrdom, I think. I propose we save the self-sacrificing maneuvers as a last resort- a gambit of sorts. If you were to martyr yourself too early, us remaining three will have more of an uphill battle." It then directs its attention to Gardziel. "Likewise, charging in at the first opportunity is too risky when it's just four or us. Ragnorra is deceptively fast, as we know, and can absorb whatever's close by before it gets a chance to do much damage. A skirmish may better suit the situation- maintaining distance will be crucial." At last, it faces Slopnik. "And Slopnik, while I'm all for healthy debate, I think we all know that insults will get us nowhere. Communication is the beating heart of any functional group, after all. Now, I'd like to hear all of your thoughts on this- I'm open to criticism." It concludes, addressing the group as a whole.
The moth looks out at the smoke and her curiosity only grows. She carefully descends from her perch, seemingly more acclimated to her newfound agility, and goes to investigate, scaling another tree that's closer to the action to better see what the fuss is about.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
*Thank you for your patience! It took me a while to formulate things too lol.*
Helianth finishes sorting out its supplies before entering the next room, having listened to their arguments for a minute and deciding now is the time to enter the conversation. "Hello again, gentlemen. If I could, I'd like to offer my thoughts on the matter." It starts, turning its gaze to Typhon. "While I greatly appreciate your enthusiasm to aid in our cause, it's unwise to lead with the martyrdom, I think. I propose we save the self-sacrificing maneuvers as a last resort- a gambit of sorts. If you were to martyr yourself too early, us remaining three will have more of an uphill battle." It then directs its attention to Gardziel. "Likewise, charging in at the first opportunity is too risky when it's just four or us. Ragnorra is deceptively fast, as we know, and can absorb whatever's close by before it gets a chance to do much damage. A skirmish may better suit the situation- maintaining distance will be crucial." At last, it faces Slopnik. "And Slopnik, while I'm all for healthy debate, I think we all know that insults will get us nowhere. Communication is the beating heart of any functional group, after all. Now, I'd like to hear all of your thoughts on this- I'm open to criticism." It concludes, addressing the group as a whole.
The moth looks out at the smoke and her curiosity only grows. She carefully descends from her perch, seemingly more acclimated to her newfound agility, and goes to investigate, scaling another tree that's closer to the action to better see what the fuss is about.
*Oh, I'm just glad you could come up with something after the nonsense I posted!*
Typhon bows and concedes silently. Gardziel looks like they're about to protest, then he coughs up some ashes and sits down. His form is flickering, as if it weren't all there. Slopnik sighs. "You still haven't explained your plan in detail. You've got skeletons, you've got a death ray, you've got us. Now how are you going to do this, step by step, how are we going to contribute, and what is the proposed result should we succeed."
It's a witch burning. A small skeleton hangs on the bonfire, wearing a grotesque leather mask. Piecemeal's mask. A small army of enthralled villagers, clearly ripped from their homes without warning, are chanting incoherently. They rage at the cadaver in Sylvan, many of them literally freezing in some places due to being half-dressed. Each of them has purple liquid spilled down their front, as if they vomited up plum juice.
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Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*Oh, I'm just glad you could come up with something after the nonsense I posted!*
Typhon bows and concedes silently. Gardziel looks like they're about to protest, then he coughs up some ashes and sits down. His form is flickering, as if it weren't all there. Slopnik sighs. "You still haven't explained your plan in detail. You've got skeletons, you've got a death ray, you've got us. Now how are you going to do this, step by step, how are we going to contribute, and what is the proposed result should we succeed."
It's a witch burning. A small skeleton hangs on the bonfire, wearing a grotesque leather mask. Piecemeal's mask. A small army of enthralled villagers, clearly ripped from their homes without warning, are chanting incoherently. They rage at the cadaver in Sylvan, many of them literally freezing in some places due to being half-dressed. Each of them has purple liquid spilled down their front, as if they vomited up plum juice.
"...You're right, I've neglected to explain the plan in detail- now seems like a good time to fix that." It unfurls a map of Autumn Country- the same one it 'borrowed' from the Keep's library all that time ago- a points to a red pin it's placed on the map with a crooked finger. "Ragnorra's impact crater is roughly here, and she's stayed mainly around this region last I checked, absorbing life she finds there. Our plan starts with you, Slopnik, and your automatons you've made. Ragnorra holds little power over inorganic material, so your creations are ideal as both an initial strike and a diversion. We'll need three platoons of roughly three-hundred each, positioned where I placed the grey pins, that move inward and box her in somewhat. If you have a flying vehicle with weaponry, I'd advise you take that into the battle, prioritizing attacks at range and coordinating the machines." It then turns to address the other two. "Gardziel, you've proven before that you can get close to Ragnorra and survive for a long time. We'll need you here alongside my bone-beasts, which I've given pieces of the Frenzied Flame, as our heaviest-hitting platoon. Rush in, burn as much of her as you can, retreat to safe ground, and repeat the cycle. The bone beasts will detonate into frenzying fire if absorbed by her, but we'll need you alive as long as possible. I'm planning to make you gauntlets with similar star-harnessing strength as my firearm, so you can do even more lasting damage, as I've seen hand-to-hand combat is your favored approach. Typhon and I will maneuver the Starshredder and use its weapons systems to attack from above. If that proves ineffective, we'll set the ship to hover out of her range, where I'll use my solar firearm to join the charge, staying at a distance. The goal is to overwhelm her from every possible angle- she will have a much harder time taking us all out since her focus will be divided manyfold."
Adeline is dead silent for a while, frozen in utter horror at the macabre scene- doubly so when she notices the mask on the skeleton. She's shivering violently, at first not noticing the tears streaming from her wide eyes. First Goto, and now... this is all too much for her. Her gaze manages to pull away from the bonfire and towards the enthralled horde. They killed him. They killed one of her only friends, whose been helping so many people including herself and her mother... they'll pay for this. She can feel a caustic mixture of emotions boiling up inside her, intertwined in grief and shock. Anger- no, rage. Disgust. Fear. Hatred. Hunger. It's all whirling within her head, clawing at the inside of her stomach and her skull and her lungs, screaming to be let out. Her eyes glaze over, yet remain intensely focused, like a hunter staring down unaware prey. She doesn't even notice that she's growling under her breath, a clicking sound unnatural to the human voice. Her claw-like nails grow into curved, chitinous talons, followed shortly by an acidic hissing sound as Primal Savagery's acid eats away at the branches she holds onto with a death grip. She readies her stance, preparing to pounce at the closest target, though she doesn't yet. She knows they're being controlled. So, the moth waits for whatever's controlling them to make itself known.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
"...You're right, I've neglected to explain the plan in detail- now seems like a good time to fix that." It unfurls a map of Autumn Country- the same one it 'borrowed' from the Keep's library all that time ago- a points to a red pin it's placed on the map with a crooked finger. "Ragnorra's impact crater is roughly here, and she's stayed mainly around this region last I checked, absorbing life she finds there. Our plan starts with you, Slopnik, and your automatons you've made. Ragnorra holds little power over inorganic material, so your creations are ideal as both an initial strike and a diversion. We'll need three platoons of roughly three-hundred each, positioned where I placed the grey pins, that move inward and box her in somewhat. If you have a flying vehicle with weaponry, I'd advise you take that into the battle, prioritizing attacks at range and coordinating the machines." It then turns to address the other two. "Gardziel, you've proven before that you can get close to Ragnorra and survive for a long time. We'll need you here alongside my bone-beasts, which I've given pieces of the Frenzied Flame, as our heaviest-hitting platoon. Rush in, burn as much of her as you can, retreat to safe ground, and repeat the cycle. The bone beasts will detonate into frenzying fire if absorbed by her, but we'll need you alive as long as possible. I'm planning to make you gauntlets with similar star-harnessing strength as my firearm, so you can do even more lasting damage, as I've seen hand-to-hand combat is your favored approach. Typhon and I will maneuver the Starshredder and use its weapons systems to attack from above. If that proves ineffective, we'll set the ship to hover out of her range, where I'll use my solar firearm to join the charge, staying at a distance. The goal is to overwhelm her from every possible angle- she will have a much harder time taking us all out since her focus will be divided manyfold."
Adeline is dead silent for a while, frozen in utter horror at the macabre scene- doubly so when she notices the mask on the skeleton. She's shivering violently, at first not noticing the tears streaming from her wide eyes. First Goto, and now... this is all too much for her. Her gaze manages to pull away from the bonfire and towards the enthralled horde. They killed him. They killed one of her only friends, whose been helping so many people including herself and her mother... they'll pay for this. She can feel a caustic mixture of emotions boiling up inside her, intertwined in grief and shock. Anger- no, rage. Disgust. Fear. Hatred. Hunger. It's all whirling within her head, clawing at the inside of her stomach and her skull and her lungs, screaming to be let out. Her eyes glaze over, yet remain intensely focused, like a hunter staring down unaware prey. She doesn't even notice that she's growling under her breath, a clicking sound unnatural to the human voice. Her claw-like nails grow into curved, chitinous talons, followed shortly by an acidic hissing sound as Primal Savagery's acid eats away at the branches she holds onto with a death grip. She readies her stance, preparing to pounce at the closest target, though she doesn't yet. She knows they're being controlled. So, the moth waits for whatever's controlling them to make itself known.
Gardziel nods but doesn't move from their chair. Typhon salutes. Slopnik walks over to look at the map. "I can't believe you've actually thought this through. However, I'll need at least a month before I can outfit 900 Automatons with adequate weaponry."
The people continue shouting profanities at Piecemeal's body. This continues for several minutes before anything happens. She hears a whisper in her head, the being from before that she found underneath the sanctuary. Sugarplums... make them stop... they...'re in my dreams... Howling... tempting... moth-child... please...
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Gardziel nods but doesn't move from their chair. Typhon salutes. Slopnik walks over to look at the map. "I can't believe you've actually thought this through. However, I'll need at least a month before I can outfit 900 Automatons with adequate weaponry."
The people continue shouting profanities at Piecemeal's body. This continues for several minutes before anything happens. She hears a whisper in her head, the being from before that she found underneath the sanctuary. Sugarplums... make them stop... they...'re in my dreams... Howling... tempting... moth-child... please...
"Very well- We'll all need some time to prepare anyway, I imagine. I'll see to making your weapons, Gardziel, and perhaps I'll see if Amina can lend her aid as well." It seems content with the rest of the coalition's approval, its flames brightening with pride for a moment. Surely, this plan will succeed, it thinks.
The moth-child seems to surface somewhat from her trance-like fury upon hearing the voice, just enough to fully internalize what they say, which fully sets her mind on its decision. The nymph is a blur as she descends from the boughs of the tree and bolts towards the crowd- she has nowhere near the unnatural agility of her mother, but something faintly reminiscent of that. Acid claws and teeth and Web spells tear their way through the crowd of the Sugarplum Court's puppets, her lashing strikes brimming with frenzy. Though there are far more of them than there are of her- even with a surprise attack and obstructing webbing, this is an uphill battle.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
Gardziel nods but doesn't move from their chair. Typhon salutes. Slopnik walks over to look at the map. "I can't believe you've actually thought this through. However, I'll need at least a month before I can outfit 900 Automatons with adequate weaponry."
The people continue shouting profanities at Piecemeal's body. This continues for several minutes before anything happens. She hears a whisper in her head, the being from before that she found underneath the sanctuary. Sugarplums... make them stop... they...'re in my dreams... Howling... tempting... moth-child... please...
"Very well- We'll all need some time to prepare anyway, I imagine. I'll see to making your weapons, Gardziel, and perhaps I'll see if Amina can lend her aid as well." It seems content with the rest of the coalition's approval, its flames brightening with pride for a moment. Surely, this plan will succeed, it thinks.
The moth-child seems to surface somewhat from her trance-like fury upon hearing the voice, just enough to fully internalize what they say, which fully sets her mind on its decision. The nymph is a blur as she descends from the boughs of the tree and bolts towards the crowd- she has nowhere near the unnatural agility of her mother, but something faintly reminiscent of that. Acid claws and teeth and Web spells tear their way through the crowd of the Sugarplum Court's puppets, her lashing strikes brimming with frenzy. Though there are far more of them than there are of her- even with a surprise attack and obstructing webbing, this is an uphill battle.
(Good end for now?)
The people don't initially respond, allowing her to slaughter and gore them for about 30 seconds before they begin to retaliate, waving torches and farming implements wildly, hitting and killing each other. Adeline is almost untouched, and within minutes, the entire horde is obliterated.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
"Very well- We'll all need some time to prepare anyway, I imagine. I'll see to making your weapons, Gardziel, and perhaps I'll see if Amina can lend her aid as well." It seems content with the rest of the coalition's approval, its flames brightening with pride for a moment. Surely, this plan will succeed, it thinks.
The moth-child seems to surface somewhat from her trance-like fury upon hearing the voice, just enough to fully internalize what they say, which fully sets her mind on its decision. The nymph is a blur as she descends from the boughs of the tree and bolts towards the crowd- she has nowhere near the unnatural agility of her mother, but something faintly reminiscent of that. Acid claws and teeth and Web spells tear their way through the crowd of the Sugarplum Court's puppets, her lashing strikes brimming with frenzy. Though there are far more of them than there are of her- even with a surprise attack and obstructing webbing, this is an uphill battle.
(Good end for now?)
The people don't initially respond, allowing her to slaughter and gore them for about 30 seconds before they begin to retaliate, waving torches and farming implements wildly, hitting and killing each other. Adeline is almost untouched, and within minutes, the entire horde is obliterated.
(Sure! Feels like a satisfying end for the time being.)
Adeline falls to her knees near the bonfire, catching her breath, wincing as she clutches one of the few wounds the horde managed to inflict- a pitchfork's tines had grazed across her arm, leaving several shallow but long cuts. She begins to grab bandages from her satchel when she freezes, her eyes still wide, fixed on her injured arm. Something's different. It's green. Her blood, slowly trickling from each of the cuts, is green. The skin around each injury is starting to sting and blister as well, touched by iron. The nymph manages to put her shock aside for a moment, focusing on cleaning and fixing the wound now and asking questions later.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
The people don't initially respond, allowing her to slaughter and gore them for about 30 seconds before they begin to retaliate, waving torches and farming implements wildly, hitting and killing each other. Adeline is almost untouched, and within minutes, the entire horde is obliterated.
(Sure! Feels like a satisfying end for the time being.)
Adeline falls to her knees near the bonfire, catching her breath, wincing as she clutches one of the few wounds the horde managed to inflict- a pitchfork's tines had grazed across her arm, leaving several shallow but long cuts. She begins to grab bandages from her satchel when she freezes, her eyes still wide, fixed on her injured arm. Something's different. It's green. Her blood, slowly trickling from each of the cuts, is green. The skin around each injury is starting to sting and blister as well, touched by iron. The nymph manages to put her shock aside for a moment, focusing on cleaning and fixing the wound now and asking questions later.
A chilling wind blows through. The bodies begin to shatter into splinters, ice crystals becoming too big to be held by their bodies. Adeline doesn't feel any colder. They're... gone... comes that whisper again.
Moth-child... Moth-child... let me see your wounds... The voice mutters urgently. The blistering stops. Poisoned... I can... adjust your antibodies to account for it... this one time... An orange glow, like a sunset, shines from the direction the wind blows. But your soul is hurt... I don't think... I can heal that...
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
The people don't initially respond, allowing her to slaughter and gore them for about 30 seconds before they begin to retaliate, waving torches and farming implements wildly, hitting and killing each other. Adeline is almost untouched, and within minutes, the entire horde is obliterated.
(Sure! Feels like a satisfying end for the time being.)
Adeline falls to her knees near the bonfire, catching her breath, wincing as she clutches one of the few wounds the horde managed to inflict- a pitchfork's tines had grazed across her arm, leaving several shallow but long cuts. She begins to grab bandages from her satchel when she freezes, her eyes still wide, fixed on her injured arm. Something's different. It's green. Her blood, slowly trickling from each of the cuts, is green. The skin around each injury is starting to sting and blister as well, touched by iron. The nymph manages to put her shock aside for a moment, focusing on cleaning and fixing the wound now and asking questions later.
A chilling wind blows through. The bodies begin to shatter into splinters, ice crystals becoming too big to be held by their bodies. Adeline doesn't feel any colder. They're... gone... comes that whisper again.
Moth-child... Moth-child... let me see your wounds... The voice mutters urgently. The blistering stops. Poisoned... I can... adjust your antibodies to account for it... this one time... An orange glow, like a sunset, shines from the direction the wind blows. But your soul is hurt... I don't think... I can heal that...
Adeline looks in the direction of the glow, managing to take her eyes away from the wound and the bonfire. "T- thank you." She starts, her breathing slowing as the adrenaline's effects from her frenzy slowly fades. "Who are you?" Her eyes drift towards the corpses around her for a second, but she quickly dismisses the thought- their blood had a sickly sweet taste she found repulsive.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
A chilling wind blows through. The bodies begin to shatter into splinters, ice crystals becoming too big to be held by their bodies. Adeline doesn't feel any colder. They're... gone... comes that whisper again.
Moth-child... Moth-child... let me see your wounds... The voice mutters urgently. The blistering stops. Poisoned... I can... adjust your antibodies to account for it... this one time... An orange glow, like a sunset, shines from the direction the wind blows. But your soul is hurt... I don't think... I can heal that...
Adeline looks in the direction of the glow, managing to take her eyes away from the wound and the bonfire. "T- thank you." She starts, her breathing slowing as the adrenaline's effects from her frenzy slowly fades. "Who are you?" Her eyes drift towards the corpses around her for a second, but she quickly dismisses the thought- their blood had a sickly sweet taste she found repulsive.
You found me, buried... they picked at my skull... gnawed at my bones... but you didn't... you ran... The bonfire is suddenly blown out like a candle as the wind whips past it. It felt so good... to be feared again... But it was... different... this time... You saw me... as something... like you... A monster...? Or... a girl?
The wind seems to sigh, and the masked skeleton falls from its perch. Adeline can see the source of the light: a strugel in pajamas. They make a motion beckoning the nymph. We'll bury them... with the other...
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Adeline looks in the direction of the glow, managing to take her eyes away from the wound and the bonfire. "T- thank you." She starts, her breathing slowing as the adrenaline's effects from her frenzy slowly fades. "Who are you?" Her eyes drift towards the corpses around her for a second, but she quickly dismisses the thought- their blood had a sickly sweet taste she found repulsive.
You found me, buried... they picked at my skull... gnawed at my bones... but you didn't... you ran... The bonfire is suddenly blown out like a candle as the wind whips past it. It felt so good... to be feared again... But it was... different... this time... You saw me... as something... like you... A monster...? Or... a girl?
The wind seems to sigh, and the masked skeleton falls from its perch. Adeline can see the source of the light: a strugel in pajamas. They make a motion beckoning the nymph. We'll bury them... with the other...
The almost-fey visibly flinches at the sound of Piecemeal's skeleton falling to ground, a startled hiss escaping her through some strange instinct. "...Of course. I remember you now. To be honest, I'm not sure what I saw us as in that moment, I was mostly startled." She gathers up the bones and the leather mask with utmost care, before walking over to them, stepping over the mangled corpses as she does.
"I don't believe I properly introduced myself then. I'm Adeline, and... I don't think I'm a monster..." She falls silent for a while, thinking of something, before deciding to ponder that at a later time. "And you are? Don't worry, I don't take names- I promise."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
You found me, buried... they picked at my skull... gnawed at my bones... but you didn't... you ran... The bonfire is suddenly blown out like a candle as the wind whips past it. It felt so good... to be feared again... But it was... different... this time... You saw me... as something... like you... A monster...? Or... a girl?
The wind seems to sigh, and the masked skeleton falls from its perch. Adeline can see the source of the light: a strugel in pajamas. They make a motion beckoning the nymph. We'll bury them... with the other...
The almost-fey visibly flinches at the sound of Piecemeal's skeleton falling to ground, a startled hiss escaping her through some strange instinct. "...Of course. I remember you now. To be honest, I'm not sure what I saw us as in that moment, I was mostly startled." She gathers up the bones and the leather mask with utmost care, before walking over to them, stepping over the mangled corpses as she does.
"I don't believe I properly introduced myself then. I'm Adeline, and... I don't think I'm a monster..." She falls silent for a while, thinking of something, before deciding to ponder that at a later time. "And you are? Don't worry, I don't take names- I promise."
"Carnival." The strugel replies, her real voice raspy from underuse. They clear their throat. "You're not old enough to take names." Better, but still tired-sounding. She begins to walk to Goto's resting place.
"I am a psychic. I was buried here long ago. I had to feed and breathe through the rhythm of dreams, until your Mother dug me up. I feel... weakened. But it's good to feel again. It's nice and cold out tonight." She falls silent and pauses. Forgive me. I forgot our circumstances. I am so sorry for your loss. I could feel your pain through all my barriers. A loss is a terrible thing to feel, even by proxy.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
You found me, buried... they picked at my skull... gnawed at my bones... but you didn't... you ran... The bonfire is suddenly blown out like a candle as the wind whips past it. It felt so good... to be feared again... But it was... different... this time... You saw me... as something... like you... A monster...? Or... a girl?
The wind seems to sigh, and the masked skeleton falls from its perch. Adeline can see the source of the light: a strugel in pajamas. They make a motion beckoning the nymph. We'll bury them... with the other...
The almost-fey visibly flinches at the sound of Piecemeal's skeleton falling to ground, a startled hiss escaping her through some strange instinct. "...Of course. I remember you now. To be honest, I'm not sure what I saw us as in that moment, I was mostly startled." She gathers up the bones and the leather mask with utmost care, before walking over to them, stepping over the mangled corpses as she does.
"I don't believe I properly introduced myself then. I'm Adeline, and... I don't think I'm a monster..." She falls silent for a while, thinking of something, before deciding to ponder that at a later time. "And you are? Don't worry, I don't take names- I promise."
"Carnival." The strugel replies, her real voice raspy from underuse. They clear their throat. "You're not old enough to take names." Better, but still tired-sounding. She begins to walk to Goto's resting place.
"I am a psychic. I was buried here long ago. I had to feed and breathe through the rhythm of dreams, until your Mother dug me up. I feel... weakened. But it's good to feel again. It's nice and cold out tonight." She falls silent and pauses. Forgive me. I forgot our circumstances. I am so sorry for your loss. I could feel your pain through all my barriers. A loss is a terrible thing to feel, even by proxy.
She looks down at the bones and mask in her arms as she follows her to Goto's grave, tearing up again. "Thank you. It's... they were both so sudden, and only a few days apart no less... I- I can't help but wonder if..." She doesn't finish her thought on the matter, her voice lost in stifled crying.
The nymph holds the bones closer, wanting to hold onto him for as long as possible, though she knows that'd be selfish of her to deny his remains their rest. "...At the very least, it's... a small comfort, knowing I can't take names. I've... been worried that it'll happen on accident at some point..."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
"Carnival." The strugel replies, her real voice raspy from underuse. They clear their throat. "You're not old enough to take names." Better, but still tired-sounding. She begins to walk to Goto's resting place.
"I am a psychic. I was buried here long ago. I had to feed and breathe through the rhythm of dreams, until your Mother dug me up. I feel... weakened. But it's good to feel again. It's nice and cold out tonight." She falls silent and pauses. Forgive me. I forgot our circumstances. I am so sorry for your loss. I could feel your pain through all my barriers. A loss is a terrible thing to feel, even by proxy.
She looks down at the bones and mask in her arms as she follows her to Goto's grave, tearing up again. "Thank you. It's... they were both so sudden, and only a few days apart no less... I- I can't help but wonder if..." She doesn't finish her thought on the matter, her voice lost in stifled crying.
The nymph holds the bones closer, wanting to hold onto him for as long as possible, though she knows that'd be selfish of her to deny his remains their rest. "...At the very least, it's... a small comfort, knowing I can't take names. I've... been worried that it'll happen on accident at some point..."
Carnival picks up Piecemeal's shovel and draws out a rectangle in the snow before she offers it to Adeline. "You should use it. I'll make my own." They roll up their left sleeve as their arm begins to split open and reshape itself, revealing ice-colored flesh splurting and oozing pastel-colored liquids to the snow.
Why are you so worried about becoming... a faerie? They ask telepathically as the sound of bone crunching enters the air. Change is scary, but even things like this happen every day...
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
"Carnival." The strugel replies, her real voice raspy from underuse. They clear their throat. "You're not old enough to take names." Better, but still tired-sounding. She begins to walk to Goto's resting place.
"I am a psychic. I was buried here long ago. I had to feed and breathe through the rhythm of dreams, until your Mother dug me up. I feel... weakened. But it's good to feel again. It's nice and cold out tonight." She falls silent and pauses. Forgive me. I forgot our circumstances. I am so sorry for your loss. I could feel your pain through all my barriers. A loss is a terrible thing to feel, even by proxy.
She looks down at the bones and mask in her arms as she follows her to Goto's grave, tearing up again. "Thank you. It's... they were both so sudden, and only a few days apart no less... I- I can't help but wonder if..." She doesn't finish her thought on the matter, her voice lost in stifled crying.
The nymph holds the bones closer, wanting to hold onto him for as long as possible, though she knows that'd be selfish of her to deny his remains their rest. "...At the very least, it's... a small comfort, knowing I can't take names. I've... been worried that it'll happen on accident at some point..."
Carnival picks up Piecemeal's shovel and draws out a rectangle in the snow before she offers it to Adeline. "You should use it. I'll make my own." They roll up their left sleeve as their arm begins to split open and reshape itself, revealing ice-colored flesh splurting and oozing pastel-colored liquids to the snow.
Why are you so worried about becoming... a faerie? They ask telepathically as the sound of bone crunching enters the air. Change is scary, but even things like this happen every day...
Adeline very carefully sets the bones down nearby before accepting the offered shovel, rolling up her blood-and-plum juice-stained sweater sleeves before planting the wedge into the frosted earth and starting to dig. Tears continue to well in her eyes as she manages to respond with a somewhat shuddering voice.
"I'm not scared of what I'll become, so much as I'm... scared of losing myself. Goto told me that that was the hardest part of this... keeping the balance while letting myself grow. I'm just worried I'll lose balance, and then... I don't know what'll happen. Maybe I've already lost it..." She takes a deep, wavering breath, before continuing to dig out the grave. "I feel like instinct takes charge of my actions more and more lately... the hunger, the trances... I've... I've lost a lot already... I don't want to lose myself too..."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
Carnival picks up Piecemeal's shovel and draws out a rectangle in the snow before she offers it to Adeline. "You should use it. I'll make my own." They roll up their left sleeve as their arm begins to split open and reshape itself, revealing ice-colored flesh splurting and oozing pastel-colored liquids to the snow.
Why are you so worried about becoming... a faerie? They ask telepathically as the sound of bone crunching enters the air. Change is scary, but even things like this happen every day...
Adeline very carefully sets the bones down nearby before accepting the offered shovel, rolling up her blood-and-plum juice-stained sweater sleeves before planting the wedge into the frosted earth and starting to dig. Tears continue to well in her eyes as she manages to respond with a somewhat shuddering voice.
"I'm not scared of what I'll become, so much as I'm... scared of losing myself. Goto told me that that was the hardest part of this... keeping the balance while letting myself grow. I'm just worried I'll lose balance, and then... I don't know what'll happen. Maybe I've already lost it..." She takes a deep, wavering breath, before continuing to dig out the grave. "I feel like instinct takes charge of my actions more and more lately... the hunger, the trances... I've... I've lost a lot already... I don't want to lose myself too..."
They nod, finishing their extended, multi-jointed shovel-arm. "Fear won't protect you. Everyone loses themself eventually. You lose yourself many times over the course of your life. No man steps in a river twice, since..." They grunt, plunging the shovel into the frozen earth, "...it's not the same man, nor is it the same river." She looks up at Adeline. "What is it specifically that you're worried about losing?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Carnival picks up Piecemeal's shovel and draws out a rectangle in the snow before she offers it to Adeline. "You should use it. I'll make my own." They roll up their left sleeve as their arm begins to split open and reshape itself, revealing ice-colored flesh splurting and oozing pastel-colored liquids to the snow.
Why are you so worried about becoming... a faerie? They ask telepathically as the sound of bone crunching enters the air. Change is scary, but even things like this happen every day...
Adeline very carefully sets the bones down nearby before accepting the offered shovel, rolling up her blood-and-plum juice-stained sweater sleeves before planting the wedge into the frosted earth and starting to dig. Tears continue to well in her eyes as she manages to respond with a somewhat shuddering voice.
"I'm not scared of what I'll become, so much as I'm... scared of losing myself. Goto told me that that was the hardest part of this... keeping the balance while letting myself grow. I'm just worried I'll lose balance, and then... I don't know what'll happen. Maybe I've already lost it..." She takes a deep, wavering breath, before continuing to dig out the grave. "I feel like instinct takes charge of my actions more and more lately... the hunger, the trances... I've... I've lost a lot already... I don't want to lose myself too..."
They nod, finishing their extended, multi-jointed shovel-arm. "Fear won't protect you. Everyone loses themself eventually. You lose yourself many times over the course of your life. No man steps in a river twice, since..." They grunt, plunging the shovel into the frozen earth, "...it's not the same man, nor is it the same river." She looks up at Adeline. "What is it specifically that you're worried about losing?"
The almost-fey thinks for a while, before answering. "...I'm scared of losing control of myself. That the hunger... the bloodthirst... will take over and I won't wake up again. That... that... I'll... hurt someone I care about... and be powerless to stop it..." Tears are fully running down her face again, making it more difficult to help dig out the grave, but she persists. "...I'm terrified of that..."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
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"They can basically use psionics for parts of mobile suits."
Praise Jeff!!!!!
Ni!
Creator of the Realm of Dragons Tavern
My Extended Sig
*Thank you for your patience! It took me a while to formulate things too lol.*
Helianth finishes sorting out its supplies before entering the next room, having listened to their arguments for a minute and deciding now is the time to enter the conversation. "Hello again, gentlemen. If I could, I'd like to offer my thoughts on the matter." It starts, turning its gaze to Typhon. "While I greatly appreciate your enthusiasm to aid in our cause, it's unwise to lead with the martyrdom, I think. I propose we save the self-sacrificing maneuvers as a last resort- a gambit of sorts. If you were to martyr yourself too early, us remaining three will have more of an uphill battle." It then directs its attention to Gardziel. "Likewise, charging in at the first opportunity is too risky when it's just four or us. Ragnorra is deceptively fast, as we know, and can absorb whatever's close by before it gets a chance to do much damage. A skirmish may better suit the situation- maintaining distance will be crucial." At last, it faces Slopnik. "And Slopnik, while I'm all for healthy debate, I think we all know that insults will get us nowhere. Communication is the beating heart of any functional group, after all. Now, I'd like to hear all of your thoughts on this- I'm open to criticism." It concludes, addressing the group as a whole.
The moth looks out at the smoke and her curiosity only grows. She carefully descends from her perch, seemingly more acclimated to her newfound agility, and goes to investigate, scaling another tree that's closer to the action to better see what the fuss is about.
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
*Oh, I'm just glad you could come up with something after the nonsense I posted!*
Typhon bows and concedes silently. Gardziel looks like they're about to protest, then he coughs up some ashes and sits down. His form is flickering, as if it weren't all there. Slopnik sighs. "You still haven't explained your plan in detail. You've got skeletons, you've got a death ray, you've got us. Now how are you going to do this, step by step, how are we going to contribute, and what is the proposed result should we succeed."
It's a witch burning. A small skeleton hangs on the bonfire, wearing a grotesque leather mask. Piecemeal's mask. A small army of enthralled villagers, clearly ripped from their homes without warning, are chanting incoherently. They rage at the cadaver in Sylvan, many of them literally freezing in some places due to being half-dressed. Each of them has purple liquid spilled down their front, as if they vomited up plum juice.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
"...You're right, I've neglected to explain the plan in detail- now seems like a good time to fix that." It unfurls a map of Autumn Country- the same one it 'borrowed' from the Keep's library all that time ago- a points to a red pin it's placed on the map with a crooked finger. "Ragnorra's impact crater is roughly here, and she's stayed mainly around this region last I checked, absorbing life she finds there. Our plan starts with you, Slopnik, and your automatons you've made. Ragnorra holds little power over inorganic material, so your creations are ideal as both an initial strike and a diversion. We'll need three platoons of roughly three-hundred each, positioned where I placed the grey pins, that move inward and box her in somewhat. If you have a flying vehicle with weaponry, I'd advise you take that into the battle, prioritizing attacks at range and coordinating the machines." It then turns to address the other two. "Gardziel, you've proven before that you can get close to Ragnorra and survive for a long time. We'll need you here alongside my bone-beasts, which I've given pieces of the Frenzied Flame, as our heaviest-hitting platoon. Rush in, burn as much of her as you can, retreat to safe ground, and repeat the cycle. The bone beasts will detonate into frenzying fire if absorbed by her, but we'll need you alive as long as possible. I'm planning to make you gauntlets with similar star-harnessing strength as my firearm, so you can do even more lasting damage, as I've seen hand-to-hand combat is your favored approach. Typhon and I will maneuver the Starshredder and use its weapons systems to attack from above. If that proves ineffective, we'll set the ship to hover out of her range, where I'll use my solar firearm to join the charge, staying at a distance. The goal is to overwhelm her from every possible angle- she will have a much harder time taking us all out since her focus will be divided manyfold."
Adeline is dead silent for a while, frozen in utter horror at the macabre scene- doubly so when she notices the mask on the skeleton. She's shivering violently, at first not noticing the tears streaming from her wide eyes. First Goto, and now... this is all too much for her. Her gaze manages to pull away from the bonfire and towards the enthralled horde. They killed him. They killed one of her only friends, whose been helping so many people including herself and her mother... they'll pay for this.
She can feel a caustic mixture of emotions boiling up inside her, intertwined in grief and shock. Anger- no, rage. Disgust. Fear. Hatred. Hunger. It's all whirling within her head, clawing at the inside of her stomach and her skull and her lungs, screaming to be let out. Her eyes glaze over, yet remain intensely focused, like a hunter staring down unaware prey. She doesn't even notice that she's growling under her breath, a clicking sound unnatural to the human voice. Her claw-like nails grow into curved, chitinous talons, followed shortly by an acidic hissing sound as Primal Savagery's acid eats away at the branches she holds onto with a death grip. She readies her stance, preparing to pounce at the closest target, though she doesn't yet. She knows they're being controlled. So, the moth waits for whatever's controlling them to make itself known.
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
*hello, darlings!*
This is TheFriendlyArchfey’s Alternate Account! “Your Dream Girl’s Dream Girl, Your Favorite Artist’s Favorite Artist.”
_-If You Want Perfection, Take a Sip and Drink It In! Kill Your Old Complexion, Welcome to Your Brand New Skin!-_
_-The, ‘Who,’ When You Call, ‘Who’s There,’-_ _-Dreamer of Dark Days and Darker Nights-_ _-Prince of the Pumpkin Patch-_
“I believe the greatest act of rebellion in this world is staying soft.”
*Hello, Arch, mine good friend! I can't stay for very long, but in about an hour or so I should return if you'd like to rp!*
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
Gardziel nods but doesn't move from their chair. Typhon salutes. Slopnik walks over to look at the map. "I can't believe you've actually thought this through. However, I'll need at least a month before I can outfit 900 Automatons with adequate weaponry."
The people continue shouting profanities at Piecemeal's body. This continues for several minutes before anything happens. She hears a whisper in her head, the being from before that she found underneath the sanctuary. Sugarplums... make them stop... they...'re in my dreams... Howling... tempting... moth-child... please...
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
"Very well- We'll all need some time to prepare anyway, I imagine. I'll see to making your weapons, Gardziel, and perhaps I'll see if Amina can lend her aid as well." It seems content with the rest of the coalition's approval, its flames brightening with pride for a moment. Surely, this plan will succeed, it thinks.
The moth-child seems to surface somewhat from her trance-like fury upon hearing the voice, just enough to fully internalize what they say, which fully sets her mind on its decision. The nymph is a blur as she descends from the boughs of the tree and bolts towards the crowd- she has nowhere near the unnatural agility of her mother, but something faintly reminiscent of that. Acid claws and teeth and Web spells tear their way through the crowd of the Sugarplum Court's puppets, her lashing strikes brimming with frenzy. Though there are far more of them than there are of her- even with a surprise attack and obstructing webbing, this is an uphill battle.
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
(Good end for now?)
The people don't initially respond, allowing her to slaughter and gore them for about 30 seconds before they begin to retaliate, waving torches and farming implements wildly, hitting and killing each other. Adeline is almost untouched, and within minutes, the entire horde is obliterated.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
(Sure! Feels like a satisfying end for the time being.)
Adeline falls to her knees near the bonfire, catching her breath, wincing as she clutches one of the few wounds the horde managed to inflict- a pitchfork's tines had grazed across her arm, leaving several shallow but long cuts. She begins to grab bandages from her satchel when she freezes, her eyes still wide, fixed on her injured arm. Something's different.
It's green. Her blood, slowly trickling from each of the cuts, is green. The skin around each injury is starting to sting and blister as well, touched by iron.
The nymph manages to put her shock aside for a moment, focusing on cleaning and fixing the wound now and asking questions later.
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
A chilling wind blows through. The bodies begin to shatter into splinters, ice crystals becoming too big to be held by their bodies. Adeline doesn't feel any colder. They're... gone... comes that whisper again.
Moth-child... Moth-child... let me see your wounds... The voice mutters urgently. The blistering stops. Poisoned... I can... adjust your antibodies to account for it... this one time... An orange glow, like a sunset, shines from the direction the wind blows. But your soul is hurt... I don't think... I can heal that...
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Adeline looks in the direction of the glow, managing to take her eyes away from the wound and the bonfire. "T- thank you." She starts, her breathing slowing as the adrenaline's effects from her frenzy slowly fades. "Who are you?" Her eyes drift towards the corpses around her for a second, but she quickly dismisses the thought- their blood had a sickly sweet taste she found repulsive.
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
You found me, buried... they picked at my skull... gnawed at my bones... but you didn't... you ran... The bonfire is suddenly blown out like a candle as the wind whips past it. It felt so good... to be feared again... But it was... different... this time... You saw me... as something... like you... A monster...? Or... a girl?
The wind seems to sigh, and the masked skeleton falls from its perch. Adeline can see the source of the light: a strugel in pajamas. They make a motion beckoning the nymph. We'll bury them... with the other...
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
The almost-fey visibly flinches at the sound of Piecemeal's skeleton falling to ground, a startled hiss escaping her through some strange instinct. "...Of course. I remember you now. To be honest, I'm not sure what I saw us as in that moment, I was mostly startled." She gathers up the bones and the leather mask with utmost care, before walking over to them, stepping over the mangled corpses as she does.
"I don't believe I properly introduced myself then. I'm Adeline, and... I don't think I'm a monster..." She falls silent for a while, thinking of something, before deciding to ponder that at a later time. "And you are? Don't worry, I don't take names- I promise."
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
"Carnival." The strugel replies, her real voice raspy from underuse. They clear their throat. "You're not old enough to take names." Better, but still tired-sounding. She begins to walk to Goto's resting place.
"I am a psychic. I was buried here long ago. I had to feed and breathe through the rhythm of dreams, until your Mother dug me up. I feel... weakened. But it's good to feel again. It's nice and cold out tonight." She falls silent and pauses. Forgive me. I forgot our circumstances. I am so sorry for your loss. I could feel your pain through all my barriers. A loss is a terrible thing to feel, even by proxy.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
She looks down at the bones and mask in her arms as she follows her to Goto's grave, tearing up again. "Thank you. It's... they were both so sudden, and only a few days apart no less... I- I can't help but wonder if..." She doesn't finish her thought on the matter, her voice lost in stifled crying.
The nymph holds the bones closer, wanting to hold onto him for as long as possible, though she knows that'd be selfish of her to deny his remains their rest. "...At the very least, it's... a small comfort, knowing I can't take names. I've... been worried that it'll happen on accident at some point..."
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
Carnival picks up Piecemeal's shovel and draws out a rectangle in the snow before she offers it to Adeline. "You should use it. I'll make my own." They roll up their left sleeve as their arm begins to split open and reshape itself, revealing ice-colored flesh splurting and oozing pastel-colored liquids to the snow.
Why are you so worried about becoming... a faerie? They ask telepathically as the sound of bone crunching enters the air. Change is scary, but even things like this happen every day...
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Adeline very carefully sets the bones down nearby before accepting the offered shovel, rolling up her blood-and-plum juice-stained sweater sleeves before planting the wedge into the frosted earth and starting to dig. Tears continue to well in her eyes as she manages to respond with a somewhat shuddering voice.
"I'm not scared of what I'll become, so much as I'm... scared of losing myself. Goto told me that that was the hardest part of this... keeping the balance while letting myself grow. I'm just worried I'll lose balance, and then... I don't know what'll happen. Maybe I've already lost it..." She takes a deep, wavering breath, before continuing to dig out the grave. "I feel like instinct takes charge of my actions more and more lately... the hunger, the trances... I've... I've lost a lot already... I don't want to lose myself too..."
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
They nod, finishing their extended, multi-jointed shovel-arm. "Fear won't protect you. Everyone loses themself eventually. You lose yourself many times over the course of your life. No man steps in a river twice, since..." They grunt, plunging the shovel into the frozen earth, "...it's not the same man, nor is it the same river." She looks up at Adeline. "What is it specifically that you're worried about losing?"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
The almost-fey thinks for a while, before answering. "...I'm scared of losing control of myself. That the hunger... the bloodthirst... will take over and I won't wake up again. That... that... I'll... hurt someone I care about... and be powerless to stop it..." Tears are fully running down her face again, making it more difficult to help dig out the grave, but she persists. "...I'm terrified of that..."
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)