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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X-8_Zgq4h9k
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Jan 11, 2018 05:38
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Karia posted:But in all seriousness: don't we still have our Culexus assassin somewhere? See how Limosa's doing on reining Eduord in, if it's not going to work just throw the Blank in the golem's face. I'll mourn the loss of Edourd, he was cool, but this is all a distraction and we shouldn't gently caress around with it. Expended to take out Typhus, I believe.
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Jan 11, 2018 06:32
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Yeah, the character database and the OP link list are a bit out of date 
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Jan 11, 2018 06:35
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Gwaihir posted:I think the golem IS Edouard? Yup, he's in the center. Being crazy and piloted by Anna.
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Jan 11, 2018 06:37
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Karia posted:Aww shucks, I do remember that. That was a good fight. We got any psyk-out grenades but... Bigger? A lot bigger? We hadnt had a big battle in a while, and I thought it would be fun to get back to our roots 
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Jan 11, 2018 06:49
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Hau Ruck Limosa’s voice was shrill in your ears. ”I am losing control of the situation!” “Yes, I can see that thank you!” Edourd, if it was still Edourd, was not responding well to the memetic weapons of the Eschatologist. Across the great form of his golem, his faces rose and fell, all echoing the lingering madness and suffering he was going through. A roiling ocean of horror, poured in the shape of a man. Enough time to mourn him later, if he died. You had to respond to Anna’s taunts. “I never felt satisfied with choosing just one. Fabiyan! To me!” Ahead of you, behind Anna, the hull near the bridge exploded. Fabiyan was glowing like a star, the handful of daimons left withering under his glare. You could see that the Acheron gate had already faltered, was already failing. Anna/Edourd turned to look at him, and you took the moment to unload with grasers, the radiation weapons of the Technocracy. Edourd’s faces howled. And around them, reality melted. Images distorted, the battle steel of the hull running like water, forming semi-humanoid shapes that laughed and cavorted. Fabiyan was circling the golem, looking for openings, and when they saw him they leapt from the hull like gravity was only a passing thing. Dozens of them, hundreds. In an instant, you had tapped into the Beast’s point-defense, taken control of the missile defense programs. Twenty millimeter cannons exploded their casings, began firing. Streams of shrapnel moving too fast to be seen, save by their effects. The metal gargoyles began shredding to pieces, inert once more. Anna chuckled - of that, you were sure. “Tech again, the old stand-by. Let’s see you handle the outer Dark.” A dozen lances formed in Edourd’s golem hands, were launched towards you. Void weapons, ones that even the Minds feared.
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Jan 12, 2018 05:39
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cat_herder posted:Evade and tackle the golem, I guess. Anna is submerged in Edourd golem, same as you in the Eschataologist. You could attempt to grapple and pull her out, if you like
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Jan 12, 2018 06:28
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Where Angels Fear to Tread You saw the void lances, and your calculations were instant. You had survived crossing the event horizon with Anna - no one else had. If you dodged, and they struck the hull, the nothingness might kill thousands, people who were already fighting for their lives against the daimon. More importantly, it gave Anna the initiative - if you dodged the obvious lethal strike, you were predictable. Best to lean into it, and surprise her. You’d come back from being killed a couple times, you should be fine. Maybe not the best logic, but your body had already committed, the immense bodysuit striding gleefully into the void lances. A shudder went through you, through the Eschatalogist, as two versions of reality collided. One where you were, with all the immense armor and firepower at your disposal, and one where you definitively weren’t. There was a blank spot in your mind, and you thought you were floating. There was distant sounds - crying maybe, or a mother’s lullaby. A crushing sense of entropy, that you had done this before, would do it again … that this moment was your eternity. Others lived, died, but here was where you would always return. This nothing between worlds. And then you were on the other side, a split second or an eternity later. Around you, the Storm. From horizon to horizon, Acheronic energies tore and spat, building hurricane force winds that you thought stars could fall into. There were colors without name, ideas without reference. The opposite of where you had been, too much instead of too little, and you desperately groped for stability. At the center - or, perhaps, the simple island defined what the center was - Edourd. He was in an Imperial Psyker stance you recognized, one used by the Inquisition, and his body was very still. It gave you the feeling of those pillars of salt described in children’s stories, or perhaps statues of marble. Only the eyes moved, and they were mad, mad. Behind him, extending from the base of his skull, some sort of cord you didn’t recognize. It seethed with hatred and self-loathing, seeming to shimmer with growth and movement, and you thought you could feel it watching you. Holding the other end was Anna, smiling as she twitched it this way and that. She blinked in surprise when she saw you. “How did you get here?” - Across the emptiness of space, Blackfinger was watching the battle. Indeed, everyone in the fleet was. Two titans, one of Acheronic horror, one of the finest constructions of Mars, engaged on the hull of the Beast. And just as suddenly, had stopped. He pursed his lips, considering, and looked to the weapons officer. “What’s happening there?” The officer gestured. “What you see is what I’ve got. Anna fired those Acheron weapons, Lord-Sire jumped in the way, and they both … stopped.” Blackfinger nodded. “I’ll count that as a win then. Ohone immobolized her somehow, tricked her. Have we got a clear shot?” “Yes sir. Stationary target is a training exercise.” “Clearly, I need to give you better exercises. Still, I’m happy for it now. The Gray Knights clear as well?” “Yes sir. Their approach vectors accounted for our most likely firing patterns.” “Always nice to be working with professionals. Give me a firing pattern.” A moment, and the holographic display leaped up. Three dimensional figures, multi-variable calculus. Blackfinger looked at it a handful of moments. “Twenty km/s at impact?” “Yes Sir. We’re too close for relativistic kill vehicles.” “Understood.” Another glance. “Fire.” Loel fucked around with this message at 03:50 on Jan 14, 2018 |
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Jan 14, 2018 03:48
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When it absolutely positively has to be destroyed The technical term might have described them as ‘hypervelocity rod bundles.’ Dozens of torpedo pods, launched from electromagnetic rail guns. They left the Eminent Domain at three km/s. If someone were to use the archaic measures, it was about sixty six hundred miles per hour. Space is massive. The distance from (the now destroyed) Terra to her former moon was two hundred and forty thousand miles. At the ludicrous speed of three km/s, it would take about 36 hours to bridge that gap. This, of course, is why those missile pods had their own rocket fuel. They kicked off almost immediately, maximum burn, to accomplish their goals. If the distance was far enough, they would have taken their time, a slower acceleration, to get to the relativistic kill speed. In this case, they simply planned to use it as additional damage. Metric tons of rocket fuel, in this case, hitting the target area. As they approached on the target, their casing burst and separated, showing dozens of tungsten rods six meters in length. In the Hegemonic Navy, these were considered ‘dumb’ rounds. Single stage pods, no guidance systems, no warheads, they were used to clear a target area. Essentially, they were all expendable, used to soak up enemy defense systems. If they got through, even better, but it was not expected of them. They were traveling at fifty-eight times the speed of sound - or, if you like, forty five thousand miles per hour. They could reach Luna from Terra in a bit under four hours. At this point, the enemy defense systems would be firing everything they had, firing at predictable targets, trying to remove the approaching threat. Edourd did not have defense systems. Edourd was, in fact, a little busy. Approximately two hundred rods were twelve miles (that is to say, one second) away.
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Jan 14, 2018 04:31
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Toughy posted:Oh ya speak more math to me I am occasionally a Harrington fan ( Weber / Butcher / Green are probably where I hang out most, in style )
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Jan 14, 2018 04:56
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Gwaihir posted:Sometimes Weber's style of distilled Right? I dont have any math background, but sometimes I just want ten pages written about m/s^2 edit: First page of the first book of Weber, for the curious: http://www.baen.com/readonline/index/read/sku/0743435710 Loel fucked around with this message at 05:39 on Jan 14, 2018 |
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Jan 14, 2018 05:16
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with weapons and techno-babble just does me so good in my scifi wants.
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I really like this 
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Jan 14, 2018 07:06
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We had a deal There was distant lightning, or perhaps thunder - flashes deep in the storm, distortions in the wind. You could feel each thump in your bones, and Anna looked at it distractedly. “Ah.” You lunged forward, gripped her by the back of the neck with your massive powered claw. She dangled helplessly from you, holding Edourd’s leash even tighter. You growled. “We had a deal.” “And I’m not breaking it. Can we hold off the accusations for just a moment? Edourd is really quite difficult to manage.” “Yes, trying to take control of one of my minions has that effect. Edourd: Magpie.” He jerked forward, fell to his knees, the leash breaking into individual links. The storm suddenly became louder, as if Edourd had simply been keeping it muted. Anna looked at you distastefully. “That’s not helping.” “I think it’s helping wonderfully. Someone like him, I’ve got dozens of sleeper programs. He is mine.” She snorted. “Yes, fine, but doing that right now is a problem. Unless you know how to drive a psyker through a storm like this…” In the distance, flame bursts began expanding. Too bright to look at, even with augments. “What’s that?” “That, sister, would be Blackfinger’s nukes.” - “First volley has impacted, 100% accuracy.” “Well done. Damage report.” “Enemy golem is still standing, and has absorbed the hits.” Blackfinger grunted. “Not surprising, but still disappointing. Time to second wave?” “Thirty seconds.” After having removed or expended the enemy point to defense, Naval doctrine in Blackfinger’s words was to ‘gently caress poo poo up.’ The principles were fairly simple - a concave shell of metal, when influenced by explosives, would become a convex, facing inwards towards the target. This could be a solid column of liquid metal, or it might be a shotgun blast of superheated fragments. A common application was with mines, used to devastate armored personnel carriers or tanks. The difference with naval combat, of course, was that the initial impact was at Mach 54, and that the initiating explosion was a fusion bomb.
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Jan 14, 2018 21:57
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I can always count on the thread for dignified reparte 
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Jan 15, 2018 00:03
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Ruh roh
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Jan 17, 2018 20:59
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CourValant posted:In a Dalek voice 
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Jan 17, 2018 22:44
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It's certainly a Plan Let's see what happens
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Jan 18, 2018 04:29
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Why is it twenty degrees in Texas “That, sister, would be Blackfinger’s nukes.” Edourd growled as awareness returned to him. “Of course they are.” Around you, the fusion bombs flared like hothouse flowers. Anna nodded furiously. “You’ve got to take care of this.” He turned to look balefully at her. “You got us into this. You fix it.[/i]” She shrugged. “It’s your mind. I can guide, but that’s all.” He tapped his fingers. “If you survive this, we’re going to have words. And I have no intentions of helping you survive.” “I would expect nothing less. Now, get us out of here.” Edourd held out his arms, energy flowing along his fingertips. You could feel the universe shift, his will returning as he navigated the three of you through his mind. Anna was behind him and off to the side, pure incandescent energy leaving her hands and returning to his. As the warheads flashed, they both shuddered. His eyes had already had gotten distant, a master of his field doing his most difficult task. Anna, meanwhile, was watching you, smiling faintly. “So far so good, I think.” Your mechadendrites spread out around you, and she frowned. “Really. This again.” “It’s all you deserve.” One claw turned to the other as if to speak. "Boy Anna really stepped in it big time." "She sure did, just when Ohone showed son trust ol-feather thot here went and stole a psion." "She lives in the void but the only void here is the one between her ears." Anna was watching you, expression flat. You ignored her, continued the mockery. "Hey who's shooting nukes at us?" "Its likely Blackfinger." "How do you know?” "Who else do you know would try to cram his rockets into the middle of two chicks fighting and blow it all over them?” Both claws made to laugh, and the fusion bursts continued to ripple through the tides of Edourd’s mind. - Blackfinger chuckled. “Oh, she did not like that.” The golem was having trouble holding its form, the dozens of thermonuclear bursts breaking across it like rocks in the water. It jerked and convulsed, material melting away and being brought back from Acheron, and the dozens of faces all showed pain. The weapon officer nodded. “Looks like we’ve pierced whatever defenses it might have had.” “Splendid. Third wave. Fire.” - Naval doctrine was fairly simple, in a way. The math of launching objects from Point A to Point B in conventional space was well known, and the tactics were millennia old. Clear the missile defenses with conventional rounds, crack open the bunkers and hard points with atomics, and then? Well, there was gently caress-You-Phosphex. It was possible that some hypothetical crew might have survived the atomics. The hull holding in places, insufficient missiles getting through, warheads failing to initiate. The targeted ship would be dealing with fires, depressurization, casualties. A familiar process, one drilled for often. A prepared ship, one expecting to enter combat, might even have the majority of its people in zero-g suits. Phosphex was meant to target those. It was a very particular chemical, one that was … particularly excited by heat, such as by that caused by recent thermonuclear initiations. When the Technocracy worked with it, spills would ignite instantly, burn through meters of concrete, melt open specially prepared NBC suits in under thirty minutes. Naval troops - or most ground troops, for that matter - didn’t have suits in any such quality. Instead, the suits - and the surrounding hull - would ignite in superheated metal or plastic, spill lakes of hydrochloric acid, flood out clouds of fluoride gas. It was essentially a finishing strike in most naval battles, crippling a ship and leaving it open for the coup de grace. These were the warheads now exploding in and around Edourd.
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Jan 18, 2018 05:06
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Stop Texas. Stop Behind the scenes, behind the scenes … well. The Inquisitor known as Edourd wasn’t … a person, as such. He had started as one, certainly, and gave the impression of one in his day-to-day life. But, much of his mind, or soul if you like, had been rebuilt. Reinforced, rearranged, regrown around lattices of the toughest psychic programming imaginable. His soul had been written on by the Empress Herself, so he could fulfill his duties. (Or, the imposter who had taken Her place. But no matter.) Behind the psychic storm, behind the initiating blasts of Phosphex that were tearing through his psyche, the cage remained. Used to hold the immense power that was a Beta tier psyker, and keep them functional. Indeed, even with all of their effort, the merely human Edourd needed hours to prepare for battle, and weeks or months to recover. Limosa knew them, as did you. Any Inquisitor of any skill did. Psykers were useful, Inqusitor-Psykers doubly so. But you never knew when you might have to put a bullet in their brain, and a psyker gone mad was not likely to allow it to happen. Parallel to the code words you had built into him in his comas, he had the Inquisitorial sigils burned into his brain. Funny thing about that kind of cage. Build to hold the immense power of a psyker, they were … actually pretty good at holding creatures of Acheron. They were drawing on similar sources, you see, energy and faith and will, all the emotions that came from the depths of the sentient mind. And Anna had walked in of her own free will. A petty daimon, that would have been enough to bind them - most knew better than to attempt to possess an Inquisitor. It was the obvious choice to gain power and influence, and just as obviously protected. It would take a daimon of tremendous strength and arrogance to attempt it, and Anna has both in spades. For a binding of that sort of thing - a full ritual was needed. And while your claws mocked her incessantly, and the bombs kept her attention on Edourd, you were tapping away at the lock on the cage that called itself a man. Between breaks of lightning, riding the rippling thunder, you spoke simple words that only you could hear. “I bind you to the cage. Darkness, I bind you.” Far, far away - and perhaps only a moment away - Anna jerked up from her throne, words already on her lips. No.
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Jan 18, 2018 05:17
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Discussing it in chat, you can always unbind them later
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Jan 18, 2018 05:18
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Anna Anna’s voice was a snarl of continuous profanity as she spiralled across the universe, leaving her place of waiting to barrel-rush towards the Beast. “Stupid loving drone can’t you do anything right you were supposed to give Ohone some goddamn PR, not bury yourself in an Inquisitor trap…” With her, a dozen birds, great and terrible, crackling with Acheronic energy. No mere imps, these, these were Major Daimons. Millenia old, they had broken empires with a whisper, and she had summoned them with all her power to ride with her. Her drone - a homonculi, some called it - had been given a smattering of lore and power, a goal, and mostly left on its own. It had enough energy to draw on Anna’s own pool, but by the same token she was connected to it. Bind the drone, bind her. Cities burst into backstabbing as her force of will echoed past them faster than the speed of light. Depending on the person, that might have been industrial sabotage, blackmail, or actual backstabbing, but it didn’t matter. She was already light-centuries past them, shrieking in rage and not a little fear. She had never been constrained. Never. If she got to the Beast in time, she could torn out of Edourd like a chestburster, break the cage and him. A pity to lose him, he could have been useful, but far better that than to be chained now. “Stupid loving drone if we get through this I will torment you for millenia....”
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Jan 18, 2018 05:33
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And remember, if this succeeds Edourd isn't dead, you can unlock the cage whenever you want. He uh. Might be a little worse for the wear, but you've done it, so can he.
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Jan 18, 2018 05:39
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Not Alex posted:Sure, sure. Locked soul-to-soul with an archdaemon of betrayal. We'll certainly be able to trust him after this. You've trusted Anna thus far VanSandman posted:If at all possible I’d like to make Edourd’s soul invisible to Anna. I'm down. How would you go about it?
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Jan 18, 2018 05:44
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Tzeentch always betrays you in the end You had a good run Anna, but Tzeentch has found someone more entertaining...
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Jan 18, 2018 06:43
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Yes, the intent was that Anna-drone was the one who did the big Darkness speech and everything after. That's why she seemed 'out of character', it was a PR drone. Right now, though, Real-Anna is on her way with her top tier Daimons, at the power-level she fought Gorgon / Fabs at, and she plans to break Edourd like an egg.
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Jan 19, 2018 03:23
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2000 lbs of nitro boosted war machine The traditional method for binding a daimon was use of their Name. Names aren’t just a thing on a birth certificate. A person has the name work knows them as, their friends know them, family, and so on. Names change over time, depending on lived experiences, preferences, changes in friends or family. Daimons are similar - a weaker name might be the one they introduce themselves by, their business card. Anna’s, in this case, was the Darkness. It was the one her legend was founded on, how she brought about her reign. Using it in a binding ritual would get her attention, but it would be a weak and fickle thing. For increased strength, one would have go deeper, something beyond just her brand. Her, for lack of a better word, identity. You had thought long and hard about what that might be. In the historical records, she went by Anastasia De Vocht. Not the direct descendent of the previous Lord-Sire, but his successor, her name had defined the Dynasty for the next twenty years. Searching in the dead worlds, looking for what you now knew were shards. However … you didn’t think that was her identity. Not a name she felt attached to, the way you did to Ohone Konichev. Something had been tickling you for a long time about the way she acted. Sorcerers of the Great Enemy were known to study the future, examine it through their magicks … but they were a blurred vision at best. No, she acted like someone who knew the script no one else did, because she had lived it. As she had been there before, and was now there again. It wasn’t unknown. Travelling through Acheron could lose entire fleets, forwards or backwards by years. Someone practiced at the Elven Ways, like she was, could shift by years as well. Perhaps someone as skilled as her could go further? Centuries, instead of years. The major factor - and, what you felt was her biggest mistake - was her access of the Lord-Sire’s baton. You had programmed that personally. Only your DNA could access it, and she had done so with ease. So, she had to have been from your future, known the DNA key … been able to use the baton. Born in your future, travelled back to your past. An easy way to know where the shards had been - she could have looked it up from whatever histories you or someone later had written down. And as this was the defining epoch for the dynasty … “Anastasia De Musio. I bind you.”
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Jan 19, 2018 04:53
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mepstein73 posted:I'm wondering, does Fabiyan like the name "Anna" for a future child...? Why would you name a child after your biggest rival?
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Jan 19, 2018 04:59
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Retaliate first The weapons officer gestured. “We’ve lost visibility. The golem is surrounded by clouds of hydrochloric acid and flourine gas.” Blackfinger nodded, leaned closer. “Any effect?” “Hard to say. The hull is melting around them, and anything human would be dead instantly.” “The golem still moving?” “Not since the Lord-Sire stopped it.” Another contemplative nod. “Same firing patterns. Final wave.” “Aye sir.” A typical fleet battle - after having been exposed to clearing of the point defense, nuclear breaking of the hard points, and phosphex on the surviving crew, would be, in the words of Blackfinger, a loving mess. The crew would be disoriented, having suffered heavy casualties, the rescue crews exposed to acid and gas and flame. The final rounds would be meant to flush out any survivors, travelling along the air ducts, leaking into atmospheres. Anyone not in secure NBC suits - which would be tricky after the rattling the ship would have taken - would be exposed to the effects. Ones you were quite familiar with, having seen them at close hand. SLUDGE rounds. Fabiyan had taught you the mnemonic, all those years ago. Salivation After that, it was just the boarding parties clearing up the 1% lucky enough to survive all four munitions. The SLUDGE clouds burst in transparent waves, flowing over the hull, and Edourd. Loel fucked around with this message at 05:38 on Jan 19, 2018 |
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Jan 19, 2018 05:10
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CourValant posted:I beg your pardon? Its a real thing https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/SLUDGE_syndrome
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Jan 19, 2018 05:29
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CourValant posted:The 'L' came out as 'Lactation', which caused me to do a double take. Cliff notes for the Nurgle/Slaanesh team up 
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Jan 19, 2018 05:38
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Guitar on fire flame solo Anna could feel the pull, a vile urging encouraging her towards her cage. She used it to fuel her advance, like a bird following thermals, but it repulsed her anyway. She would reach Edourd faster by following the compulsion, but that was the first step to accepting her new master. Her will fought for control, saying she was doing it of her own volition. But that’s what a prisoner would say, wouldn’t they. Either she had no choice, or her choice was the same as what her enemy wanted to do. Either way, the result was the same. Faster, faster, ever faster. She could feel the binding trying to sink into her bones, Anastasia De Musio, Anastasia De Musio. It wasn’t a perfect bind, not fully the name she considered herself, but it was enough to push her onward. Edourd was shining before her like a guiding star, and she dove towards it with all her will. Around her, behind her, she could feel the clicking and snapping of binding wards, and she snarled. An old phrase rose up in her mind unbidden. I’m not trapped in here with you - you are all trapped in here with me!
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Jan 19, 2018 05:41
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Betting all on red Your first thought was you might have made a mistake when Anna disintegrated. Your second thought was you definitely made a mistake when the universe shook so hard you and Edourd both fell to the ground. Your mind vaguely searched for words like collision or iceberg, when out of the storms emerged Anna in her true form, one you remembered from the Ways. A thousand feet high, her feathers and furs shifting into something far more birdlike, stretched out a serpentine neck, although she still had a human face. Around her neck was a silver collar and chain, stretching far off into the distance Around her, the storms howled. Around her, they obeyed.
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Jan 19, 2018 05:49
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CourValant posted:We already called Code Omega. What's the one above that? 
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Jan 19, 2018 05:53
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CourValant posted:I am a leaf on the wind, watch how I soar. We both know how that ends 
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Jan 19, 2018 05:58
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GGU1P6lBW6Q
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Jan 20, 2018 05:15
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Caw Anna wasted no time. No time spent on monologuing, on the final speech. This wasn’t her time, and she refused to act like it was. Her stupid drone disintegrated instantly. It would be brought forth later, and punished. For a very long time. Daimons were immortal, but she would make it regret every moment of its long life. If she got out of here. When she got out of here. Ohone was monologuing, of course. Pure foolishness. There was a time and a place, and this was not it. On Agatha’s World, yes - she had a plan, and a buffet of souls, and Fabiyan leaning more her way than Gorgon’s. Here, there was no Gorgon to distract Fabiyan, and she could feel the wires forming around her. But she was ludicrously powerful, one of the most powerful in the galaxy, and for Ohone to assume she had won was the height of arrogance. She could feel the cage around her, but it was still thin. Still merely human. For all the Empress had done to reinforce it, there were still vulnerable points, formed by the soul that called itself Edourd. And she knew all about how to break souls. Ravens erupted in a massive swarm from her, blacking out the sun if there had been one. Around her, the Acheronic clouds fled, showing the ungilded bars that were building around them. The birds were already on them, attacking the fleshy parts that were Edourd’s soul. The tiny figure below her fell comatose, even as her magick picked and ripped at his mind. All was metaphor, here, and in this place her birds were stripping the flesh from him as he lived. He would have screamed, if anyone could have heard it over the storm.
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Jan 20, 2018 05:28
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Cawww It was a race, and she knew it. Edourd’s mind was losing coherance, and with it the golem outside was losing strength. Clouds of hydrochloric acid and flourine gas pooled around him, punishing his will even further, and her ravens were tearing into him from the inside out. Given even a few minutes, he would break under the pressure, catatonic or dead, and she would be free. But she needed a few minutes. The wards were powerful, built for someone like her. Or, at least, a much weaker version. A few minutes, and she would win - this they both knew. But on the other side of things … well. She had to hurry. In the distance, amongst the breaking clouds, stars were approaching like the cold light of fae. - Blackfinger raised his eyebrows. “Always a pleasure to watch professionals.” The rest of the bridge staff could only agree wordlessly. Indeed, they were silently fixed on the screens, the fleet of Grey Knights moving with the skill that only millenia of training could provide. They had avoided the multiple waves of cannon fire as if they had rehearsed for exactly that event - and who knew, maybe they had. Now they were breaking from the shuttles, drop pods plummeting towards their target, the daimon-golem once called Edourd. Psyker energy was already radiating from them like heat waves, hexagrammatic wards forming out of pure nothingness in the emptiness of space. As more pods landed, the wards grew ever stronger. Bursting from within the golem, clouds of ravens railed against them in ever greater numbers.
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Jan 20, 2018 05:41
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Red queen "Well, in our country," said Alice, still panting a little, "you'd generally get to somewhere else—if you run very fast for a long time, as we've been doing." "A slow sort of country!" said the Queen. "Now, here, you see, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!" Anna chuckled morosely at the thought, but kept at it. The stars around her had formed a lattice of razorwire - if she was a thousand feet tall, they were the net that wrapped kilometers around her. Each node was a Grey Knight, and with every breath they came slowly closer. If she tried to fight them all at once, they would wear her down. Instead, she wielded her immense power as a sledgehammer. Target a node, smash it to nothing. Each swing killed a Grey Knight beyond repair - but each time she focused on one, the others took their chance to push forward. If she killed enough of them, there would be a hole large enough to escape from Edourd. If they got close enough, her mobility would decrease, and eventually her ever-so-powerful hammer would be tied to her body. Powerful, yes, but useless. Just keep swinging, Anna. Just keep swinging.
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Jan 20, 2018 06:01
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dont be mean to me posted:Just don't make the stars go out this time* and we're cool. This is a good read
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Jan 20, 2018 06:04
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Xarbala posted:Anastasiya Fabiyanovna Konicheva edit: Also, our first Name was 100% on, second name 60% or so. A weak bind, but good enough to move forward. Next name is who she is. Not what she calls herself, but who she is. Ark's idea on the third Name is as follows: quote:Lastly, and this one is a bit more esoteric. "The Beast called I" . This carries double meaning, first being that we recognize that She is ourself, sure she lived a different experience but her soul is just a facet of the one called Ohone. That recognition means we can see her bare soul and KNOW it, the core of a power word. Secondly, and most important is that we understand her soul. Anna has likely lived so many iterations of reality that nothing else really is real or exists to her. Like when Bill Murray had his god phase in Groundhog Day. People are just little actors, they don't exist with consequence and thus aren't real. Anna is alone in her existence and thus her soul reflects that in its solipsisim and by understanding that we understand her and complete the power word. Other suggestions, of course, are welcome
Loel fucked around with this message at 06:21 on Jan 20, 2018 |
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Jan 20, 2018 06:19
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