|
 Pictured: A view of dying stars from the Edge Of All Things Everyone - The Edge Of All Things quote:This is the Grand Orrery sending out an automated distress signal to anyone who can hear it. A voice, Marvak. The Goddess of Time and Law. It slides into each of your ribcages, nipping at the edges of your heart to grab your attention. quote:I repeat this is the Grand Orrery, the Pillar of Time, sending out an automated distress signal. Multiple Pillars have failed. I repeat, an unknown number of Pillars have failed. The Microcosm of Genesis is failing to report in, the Palace of Structure is failing to report in. The last safeties, shelters and lifeboats for just this kind of disaster. quote:The Grand Orrery is the only part of the system reporting in. Please report to… A string of coordinates. quote:…This message will now repeat. This is the Grand Orrery… ------ Each of you follows the message. It leads you past crumbling, dead planets. Silent in the shadow of pale, waning stars. Each sputters and chokes with its last breaths. The souls of the dead, innumerable, clutch one another and sob without voices. The silence has its own sound, a timbre, a pitch, a tone. It settles in your lungs, begs you for help. You have none. The Grand Orrery is a ruin now, pieces of the great cosmological arcanery float limp in the night. Around them, clusters of dead divine bureaucrats and technicians. Some wear looks of terror, others serene, a few even look bored - staring out their windows into the void as if they were still alive. But… somehow, in the silence, among the corpses and shadows, you hear sound. Ticking. Sickly, hollow, accusatory ticking that pulls you towards one corner. A great shard of blackened crystal, gears and levers and wire jutting out like compound fractures. And it is there you meet one another. One by one. Before you is the mouth of a cave, the smell of musty death, and a massive door embedded in the crystal. Voth recognizes it as the door to Marvak’s inner sanctum. Woven of pure strands of time before any of you were born. The strands squirm and drip, congealing on the smooth crystal below. The ticking comes from still deeper. Voth steps forward, his throat tighten. His heart skips a beat. The entryway is destroyed, as if something far too large for its dimensions forced its way through, but there are no marks. No handprints, no clawmarks, no signs of struggle beyond the fact the blast door was torn from its hinges. The ticking is louder now. Voth leads the other five down dozens of spiraling staircases, past collections of Marvak’s favorite clocks. Each is stopped, and all their reflective surfaces - plastic, glass, polished metal, far stranger things, are corroded into oblivion. The ticking is deafening now. The secondary Orrery. It’s almost angry, almost furious, so sharp and crisp you worry it might snap your bones. The last set of blast doors, the same as the first, embedded in the nearby walls like shrapnel. Beyond them, in gangrene green lighting, lies the body of Marvak. She is slumped against the cracked powder-blue keyboard of the Orrery, face twisted into an expression of terror. She is still now, so still. Voth has never seen her like this. She was always moving, always in time with thousands of possibilities, watch-coated arm in watch-coated arm. Her bright crimson curls always bouncing back and forth as she hummed or sang to herself. Now they are coal-gray, streaked muddy-snow white. There is not even a breeze to animate them, and no obvious cause of death. But the Orrery ticks on, the secondary failsafe for the Pillar of Time. Voth presses an arm against her shoulder, cold. A letter falls from her sleeves. To My Darling Little Brother He opens it. quote:"It has to be this way little brother, none of the other streams end in anything but stagnation and ruin. I love you very much, and I know you can do this. When you see me again, it won't be me." pre:WARNING: STRUCTURAL PILLARS HAVE BUCKLED. PRIMARY COORDINATE SYSTEM IS OFFLINE. SECONDARY SYSTEM HAS FAILED. TERTIARY DISTRIBUTED STAR-BASED BACKUP IS FAILING. FABRIC OF REALITY IN CRITICAL CONDITION. ------------ OOC: Welcome to The Crash! Take a moment for introductions. You may use the livescene channels to do this if it tickles your fancy. You’ve already got two disasters and several mysteries on your plate. The map will open up with routes to explore other worlds next update. Ask questions about what you want to discover about this ‘new’ universe and what might be present or missing from the old! Disasters ----------- The Dying Stars: The last few hundred stars in the universe are all in their final phases of life before collapse. They are key to the last surviving backup for the spatial location system - required to keep objects and entities separate. If they all die it is very likely the universe will undergo a secondary Crash. The Shattered Cycle: Without the Cycle of Life and Death the weight of trauma from experiencing the Crash is beginning to warp and mutate the trapped souls. What effect this will have is totally unknown, as a disaster of this nature and scale has not occured in living memory. You must either create or find a way to store as many souls as possible in stasis. If all else fails the Microcosm of Genesis, a hybrid lifeboat/seed for a new universe, is supposed to have large soul containment systems but its beacon has failed for unknown reasons. You’ll have to find it and figure out if they’re still viable. Also to be clear, you can not save all the stars, or all the lost souls. This is purely damage control at this point. Hopefully the mysteries are self-evident.
|
#
?
Jun 30, 2018 18:06
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 19, 2024 11:03 |
|
|
Siderous The Star-Heart, Marvak's Orrery In The Light Of The Orrery posted:Behind you, the Orrery ticks in perfect tune - tracking the motion of every molecule in the universe, outlined in weak copper orange light. When you blink it is always a new scene. Stars, rubble, or atoms zipping between one another. The tape computers in the room hum and spin their spools, punchcards jump back and forth as their programs run. Siderous steps out of the ruined structure, gazing up at the sky. A sky that had once been filled with friends, and family. Rivals, and allies. Now filled with naught. He reaches up to the heavens, searching - finding. Not all were gone. A few... And perhaps... He gives out a sigh and floats upward, his form expanding suddenly in a flash as his humanoid shape is abandoned for an amorphous nebula, expanding out in space in all directions, glowing with an internal light. He knew that he didn't have much time - the ticking of the clocks in his head reminding him all too well of what was left in the universe. But it was not the ticking of the clocks that made him work with haste. He could hear them - hear the last cries of his peers as they struggled against the encroaching Chaos that the universe had become. At first one. Then two. Then many more. He reaches deep into himself, gathering up the stardust that made up his form. He heard the cry of concern from Starkin, his gestalt children, but ignored it. There was no one else. No over-gods to save the day, just him. The pain of his loss was excruciating, a cry of pain muted by the lack of reality around them. A stream of gas and dust gathered in front of him, coiling and compressing over and over, thinner and thinner, until finally it seemed like the mass disappeared altogether as he formed it into a Defect. The ritual began. A loop of Cosmic String formed, bending space and time around it as it waved to and fro in a nonexistent stellar wind. A topological flaw, a bit of spacetime that should not have been - indeed such a thing was nearly unheard of in the Universe. But there was no universe anymore. Just this bounded island of reality in a sea of lightless vacuum. Siderous felt his essence bleeding out from the wounds he had inflicted on himself, but again waved away Starkin. His glowing eyes searched the cosmos with hope against hope - there. She had survived. As he lifted his new artifact into the air, he tried to rationalize. The exotic stars were more stable by nature. Bringing them here would be enough to save many of them from the unreality, at least long enough to treat whatever injuries they had. Bringing a member of the Sequence here, it might not have saved them. Or maybe it would have. He began to twirl the loop of cosmic string in the air, making it stretch out into the cosmos in an ever-tightening spiral coil. At the center of the coil space began to distort and warp, collapsing in on itself - bridging the distance of a galaxy away. She was there, he could see her through the loops of compressed space - to mortal eyes, it was a neutron star. Cold now, the surface hardened and cracked, spinning listlessly through space as he brought his old friend through the coils and to the Orrery, where reality might reimpose itself. Finally, Siderous turned to Starkin. "Help Vela. I'm going to bring as many here as I can - save them, whoever you can." OOC - I'm going to use Immaculate Designer to form the Cosmic Lasso to help to wrangle as many of the surviving stars here as possible, starting with the Exotic stars: white dwarves, neutron stars and other remnants. They should be in the least danger of spontaneous explosion once they are out of Unreality. Rather, starting with Vela the Pulsar, Siderous' best friend from the time before the Crash. After that the rest of the priority will be: 1. Divine Stars 2. Divine Stars that seem like they can be saved. 3. Divine Stars that are unlikely to be saved. 4. Regular Stars that seem like they can be saved. 5. Regular Stars that are unlikely to be saved. Action 1: Immaculate Designer to take a Level 2 Liver Injury, sacrificing part of myself to form the Cosmic Lasso. Action 2: Use Gravity +2 and the Cosmic Lasso to retrieve Vela, then as many other divine stars as possible, and if I have any time left over begin rescuing regular stars. I will Push here as well for an extra dice. Cohort Action: Use Gravity +2 to try and do stellar triage on the stars that come in, try to save as many as possible. Spin up the neutron stars, try to extract the heavy elements from the core of the regular stars, that sort of thing. If nothing else try to increase the gravity in the mantle of stars to make fusion happen there so they stay up and don't collapse.
|
|
#
?
Jun 30, 2018 21:06
|
|
|
 The Trespasser The Trespasser cawed with glee, for the harsh vistas of the Crash brought them much joy. First, there was the matter of their continued existence. The gamble has paid off. Second, there were no prying eyes to witness the indignity of a god struggling to get their bearings. Eyes used to the dizzying confusion of height, width and depth so intertwined and yet all so jagged and bent. The Trespasser might have been mere seconds in this place, but it took only a glance to understand it was a mess. As if one shattered the entire universe on a floor, pieces strewn all over. Then again, perhaps this would only make it more malleable to one's will. But none of that mattered. The plans were already put into motion and the eyes were set on the prize. And the message! A distress call with the exact coordinates of the Grand Orrery. Keys to this place handed on a platter. Upon arriving at the scene, the Trespasser saw others that have already arrived. Bad. Dangerous, perhaps. Some apparently having trodden this place before. Yet it was too late to back down. With breath held, they listened, hoping for an opening. A weakness. And they have found one. Grief. "Step aside, for I have already arrived too late," they said, soaring into the room. Confident and focused, as if too preoccupied to bother with the pleasantry of eye contact. "Unless you wish to confess to this crime and accept just punishment." Three beats of silence, circling the corpse and glancing at the machinery. Long enough to form questions, not enough to voice them. "I might have failed to protect her, but I shall persevere in continuing her... Contingency plan. Voth, the Educator," Trespasser said, turning slowly towards the gathering. A twitch. Oh, that's the loud brother. Figures. "Know that you are the sole pillar on which I can rest my faith. Faith, that you were not responsible for what happened to your beloved sister. Hence, I require two favours of you, if you want to see your sister avenged and her killer stopped. First, to ensure no trespassers enter this vital place, wishing to snatch whatever truth we can still extract from it. Then, we shall embark on a journey to retrieve the Microcosm of Genesis. You don't think whoever brought this ruin would just leave the single place that could undo it, do you?" Hopefully, his lack of inner monologue would prove useful to unravel the workings of that most useful place. - - - - - Action 1: I use the Key 2 to gaze beyond the knots of causality and follow the weave of time from beyond itself. Perhaps the only way to investigate the current Orrery settings. My line of thinking is, there are signs of tampering rather than regular failure and I'm assuming that with the controls left unusable, yet the machine working, there are some very particular settings someone wants to see enforced. I want to know what said settings are, if anything sticks out, or was noticeably changed recently. Also anything that will make me sound like I actually know what I'm doing in the Orrery. Action 2: Once sticking around the Orrery inevitably becomes more trouble than it's worth, I solemnly announce embarking on Very Important Mission and promptly gently caress off for a scavenger hunt. it's such a shame to see all these souls going to waste, decaying because this world doesn't have a working life-death cycle. Well, I'm not this world and I don't mind a bit of manual labor. Using Rebirth 2 (and force) I do the exact same thing mortals do to preserve their food from rotting - grind them down to the very essence, to recombine into a new, fresh being. Entropy be damned, there's plenty where it came from. Since I only wanted to lead the way to microcosm for others anyway (hey, Prowess 1) and have decided unravelling the mysteries of the Orrery is a more interesting use for the Key, I think I'm fine with being all talk about it. Lichtenstein fucked around with this message at 10:57 on Jul 23, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jul 2, 2018 01:27
|
|
|
 VOTH In an instant, VOTH took upon an imposing visage, seemingly becoming far too giant, far too towering to be confined within the bounds of the Orrery, yet he was still contained within. He extended an arm towards the Trespasser, with his palm open, as if to bar its way. Armed with scorn and a glowering glare he spoke, his voice a booming thing. "HALT!" "Your INSOLENCE is unappreciated, interloper", even through his helm, his gaze could be felt scanning the alien divinity, "I KNOW you not. CREATION KNOWS you not. Yet you still DARE walk in here like you are a KNOWN thing, like your PRESENCE is a given. Like an INQUISITOR you act, but a mere TRESPASSER is what you are!" "Do you take me for a FOOL, alien THING?" "Do you THINK that VOTH is one to fall for a bluff as blaze as this?" VOTH crossed his arms. "Let it be known. HE IS NOT." "He is no such fool as to ALLOW unrestricted entry to the core PILLARS OF CREATIONS to an unknown THING of unknown MOTIVES." A moment passed. Words echoed. "Yet neither is he UNREASONABLE." "If there is an ounce of TRUTH to your blithe claims of a common good, if your attempts to INVADE my sister's WORK are truly done with good intentions, then you must PROMISE it so. You must PROMISE it so, and wear your WORDS on your alien HIDE!" "You must PROMISE as THUS:" "You are ONLY to LOOK within the ORRERY to find information for the time being." "You are not to LIE or DECEIVE about any findings within the ORRERY you might make, not by claiming falsehood, by withholding relevant truth or by any OTHER means." "You are not to make ANY changes upon the STRUCTURE, FUNCTION or any other relevant part of the ORRERY without my EXPLICIT permission." "You are not to arrange for an ACCOMPLICE or any other entity to break any of the three other PROMISES for you." "These PROMISES four you must ABIDE by." "Now. SWEAR!" OOC: No action yet, but the Trespasser is given the choice to accept bounds to their operations relating to them mucking with the Orrery. Otherwise there will be conflict. Theantero fucked around with this message at 19:00 on Jul 2, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jul 2, 2018 18:58
|
|
|
 Cat Already, there seemed to be trouble in the control room, unpleasant sorts of debates that Cat had no particular interest in. Before the Crash, he knew this place had been important to the function of the universe, defining the interactions of all the various rules that kept the multiverse running. But while they were arguably important, he understood that ultimately their function was to provide a place for Cat to exist. It was like the sun that fed the wheat that attracted the rats that fed the cats - obviously, quite critical to life, but one mustn't forget that their ultimate purpose was to sustain a place for cats. Despite his lack of previous interest, Cat was quite clever, and a glance at the controls reminded him of the somewhat mythic Microcosm of Genesis. Obviously, such a thing would likely be useful in such a situation, assuming it was not lost utterly in the void between the stars. He turned towards Ivadora. "Come with me if you wish." And without further conversation or explanation, he slipped from the control room. Outside, the fading, screaming universe was rather distracting, but Cat's senses were keen, and he'd seldom failed a hunt. Never, really, unless you counted the times Coyote was playing one of his pranks, which Cat did not. He concentrated, blocking out any distractions, trying to find something he'd never tried to look for before. The principle was simple - when everything was working properly, the Microcosm and the Orrery were connected somehow. Even if their link was corrupted, if he could perceive it, he could follow it to its source. Of course, the principle was far simpler than the reality - in practice it was the equivalent of finding a thread of a particular shade in a tapestry the size of an ocean Cat began to prowl around the surrounding space, flitting through the stars. In his wake, a strange change occurred. A few of the stars, hollow and fading, perceive it. It's not life, nor matter, nor space. It's the memory of Cat, gracefully threading his way through the guttering universe. A memory of grace, freely given, always unearned. A small measure of comfort, even in the face of the dying universe. It's not enough, but for a short time, perhaps it might seem like it? *** Action 1: Using the Domain of Cat 2 to hunt down this missing Microcosm of Genesis. Desperate action, so +1 to dice and success. Action 2: Using the Domain of Grace 1 to make the guttering stars along the way last a little longer. Will spend 2 Hubris to push for an extra die.
|
|
#
?
Jul 3, 2018 02:38
|
|
|
Fa She arrives late - she’s usually late. Punctuality is important in music, but apparently less so in person. Anyway, there were detours to take in, matters to digest, before she summoned up the will to arrive at the Orrery. Her entrance is unceremonious, and easily ignored amidst the exchange between Marvak’s brother and the one she doesn’t recognize. Dealing with divinities was not exactly her forte but what choice did she have? She wanders about the clocks for a moment in her mortal guise - as she passes by, those that had fallen out of sync or gone still since whatever calamity are slowly restored to a consistent, measured tempo, Fa willing them back to harmony - the effect is temporary, and collapses if she passes too far away. The passion lingers in the antechamber outside Marvak’s sanctum, listening to the raised voices - not so much to eavesdrop, but only until she can know - there is no solution forthcoming, there is no plan here. It is as much disorder as anywhere else. Things are still falling apart. The silence pains her. The loss, it pains her. And, on some selfish level, the notion of putting in the hard work to try and salvage what they could feels a little unfair. That is not her nature - she is not a being of Physics, or Salvage, or some great builder - she wants music, and life, but… She sniffs a little. There is a trace there, of souls, and souls have passions, those funny little things, fragile and inchoate as they might be. Maybe she could leave the heavy lifting to that Lord of the Pillar or the Star-fellow, if she could just fetch a contingency of souls, right? With a resonant chord, a pulse, her form is gone, and the sound travels out into the space, trailing in the direction of the Cat, Fa chasing the pull of lingering concentrations of souls. Action 1: Using Passions 2 to sniff out the, well, passion and essence of the souls themselves. Action 2: In an effort towards the same goal, using Senses 1 to more conventionally comb and pursue the wreck of the Crash for this soul contingency!
|
|
#
?
Jul 3, 2018 03:50
|
|
|
VOTH quote:The bird elicited what can be best construed as a mirthless chuckle. A moment, yet of such intense contempt that it seemed to stretch to eternity. "PROCEED", VOTH finally stated, "And perform ILL DEEDS not, or my WRATH shall be a BURDEN upon you FOREVERMORE." Such an irksome creature. And it wasn't just them, for their entire makeshift Pantheon seemed to be largely comprised of entities holding marginal import in past Creation. Not that VOTH was one to ride on status, but he was not entirely comfortable carrying the weight of prudence on top of ORDER all by himself in this gallery of malcontents. The wisdom of the Elder Pantheons would've been appreciated at a time like this, that is to say. At least Siderous the Star-Heart seemed trustworthy enough. A small mercy. But VOTH took it. Done with the Tresspasser for now, VOTH turned towards Siderous and his starkinconsort. Already they were showing great diligence, great sacrifice in performing their tasks. These were qualities VOTH admired. "SIDEROUS", VOTH boomed, "KNOW that your great EFFORTS on behalf of your dying KIN have not gone unnoticed", he extended his arm and opened his hand. A warm sort of glow, far too bright to look directly at emanated from it, "And as such I wish to ASSURE you: What remains of the LIGHT of THE THREE PILLARS shall be given to breathe life into the dying EMBERS of the last STARS. I would do more, if I still COULD. ALAS." His gifts given, VOTH turned once again to his late Sister. He gazed, but all he felt was a great annoyance, for he was still no closer to an answer. But still, there had to be some unifying element between all the clues. The destroyed reflections, the horrified visages, the stolen colors, the corrupted messages on the dials. There had to be something there, some conclusion to be drawn. A strand of ORDER among the Chaos, singular though it may be. And VOTH was determined to find it. OOC: Action 1: VOTH will be using Light +2 to assist Starkin by breathing some artificial divine light on the stars to give them some godly CPR for the time being. Action 2: Using ORDER +2 to properly analyze all the disparate hints scattered around the crime scene to get some clue as to what is going Theantero fucked around with this message at 16:55 on Jul 4, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jul 4, 2018 15:45
|
|
|
Ivadora - Having shamefully demonstrated her foreveralone single credentials by gushing over a kitty, Iva decides to put her money where her mouth is and get to work. She had extensive experience collecting piles of dead people, but usually only in the corporeal sense. Some mild looting of the giant scrap heap/tomb while Voth and co are otherwise distracted yields enough material to get the project started. A filter and flytrap of sorts, to lure them on. Once that was done, she did what she could do best on an emotional level, prime the trap by radiating what those lost souls felt most; crushing insanity and sadness. Engraved on the side of this giant device are the words "This is awful, this is terrible, this is right where I belong." Foreveralone Calls. ****** Action 1: Using Metal and Meat +2 to use scrap from the orrey to build a soul trap to house all the errant nobodies who have no body. Action 2: Using Madness and Melancholy+2 to lure them in. Action 3: Hello Darkness will use Industry+1 to attempt to sort and collect them.
|
|
#
?
Jul 4, 2018 18:34
|
|
|
Turn 1 - Objects In Motion Log for the Introduction livescene is here. Big thanks to 9IronSwingersClub for developing a better system for displaying them.  Pictured: The Microcosm of Genesis Careening Towards The Orrery, Tendrils of Black Oil Streaming In The Pale Night Trespasser (2/10H) and VOTH - In The Shadow Of The Orrery Marvak’s body is a network of mysteries. Her joints are so stiff they creak as Voth takes measurements. The angle of her collapse against the keyboard, the position of her hands relative to one another. She was raised up, and then slammed against the keyboard several times. Dry details of a messy crime. He runs fingers along her neck, looking for signs of injury. He finds three raised spots. Something shifts under the last, squirming under his divine power. His fingers sink into her dead nerves, and retrieve something between a tapeworm and a millipede. Hundreds of legs divided into little sections. It drips with a black, oily substance and VOTH hears it squeal in his mind. A sound like ice sloshing around in the brainpan. It snaps in half, and the bottom drops to the floor - growing a new head and skittering back up Marvak’s dress before VOTH can catch it. Meanwhile, Trespasser listens to the Orrery. It sings, when you pay attention. In call and response, the tide of casuality. They ride the sound, try to understand it. They are too foreign, too new, all they leave Trespasser with is a hollow rattling in their beak. They hmph and turn up their beak at the ceiling, why they would just have to use other means to understand this vulgar machine. They hop down to a panel behind one of the control systems - a set of punchcard machines chittering in the dark. Their beak looks at the screws, shifting and mutable in the wake of time. It only takes a moment to understand it, what a petty little defense. Each screw pops out with a gentle tink. When it falls to the floor Trespasser can see another millipede this one covered in microphhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh The Unlife Aquatic fucked around with this message at 22:31 on Jul 5, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jul 5, 2018 21:10
|
|
|
hHhhHhhHhHhHhhHHhHhhhHhHhHhhhHhHhHhHHhhHhHhhHHHHhHhHhHhH hHhhHhhHhHhHhhHHhHhhhHhHhHhhhHhHhHhHHhhHhHhhHHHHhHhHhHhH hHhhHhhHhHhHhhHHhHhhhHhHhHhhhHhHhHhHHhhHhHhhHHHHhHhHhHhH hHhhHhhHhHhHhhHHhHhhhHhHhHhhhHhHhHhHHhhHhHhhHHHHhHhHhHhH
|
|
#
?
Jul 5, 2018 21:11
|
|
|
Both blink. The millipede is gone. VOTH scans the room. So is Marvak’s body. But neither have a moment to think before the weight of a hundred dying stars presses on their skulls. Good roll for VOTH here, you can ask further questions about Marvak’s body. And as for Tresspasser wellllll...the Orrery is fine. You’re sure it’s fine. It’s totally fine. ----------- Siderous (2/10H) , VOTH, and Starkin - The Gallery of Dying Stars Xela is wounded, critically wounded. Her ‘heart’ is seconds away from shattering. She can barely speak. There is so much Siderous wishes to say, but the Starkin takes her, and throws a quick patch on her wound before arraying her with the rest. Each he brings in is worse than the last, dimmer, sicker, hollower. It is as if a billions of years passed in a moment. Once young, vital torches are now nothing but guttering cinders. And as he pulls in one after another, his rope begins to fray. By the time he has hauled in his one hundred and eighth star it is gossamer, barely held together. The Starkin and VOTH call to him before he can contemplate what to do about it. Stars are dying faster than either could account for, some of the first he pulled in are on the edge of slipping away forever, and require the touch of the smith himself to stand a chance at life. Mediocre rolls mean your situation has deteriorated into a desperate situation. Xela is alive, but barely. ----------- Trespasser (2/10H), Ivadora, and Hello Darkness - The Soul-Sump Not too far away, Ivadora rolls her eyes. The weeping and screaming from the star ward was loving with her concentration. While she works Trespasser watches with bemused curiosity. Any excuse to learn a little bit more about the mechanics of this universe, though the noise from the ward is rather dreadful. Darkness handles the electronics, eating magnetic tape and then vomiting it back up to change its contents, and using his teeth to edit punchcards. The machine he ends up making belches smoke and screams swears at everyone nearby, much to his enjoyment. After he helps Ivadora cut and bend metal from the Grand Orrery, while he’s working on a piece of the funnel he chips his tooth. He grumbles, and emits various whimpering noises for the rest of the work-time. Annoying both Ivadora and Trespasser. The Sump itself works perfectly, a network of pilfered clockwork and twitching angel guts that emit the strangest smells Trespasser has encountered yet. Musty? Zesty? Acrid? What was that word again? Ah, it doesn’t matter now. So many souls stream in, the most corrupt are flung out of the universe, to who knows where. But the sweetest, the most fragrant are sent into tanks. What a waste. While Ivadora screams at Darkness for nibbling on her leg again Trespasser slinks over to the sump, and skims the best souls for themselves - turning them into a gray, sparkling powder. They drink it in gulps, and learn much of the old universe, all its mistakes and fobilies. Goodness, so many places for improvement. When they’re finished, they still have more than enough for future use. OOC: Perfect roll for Trespasser. You have three charges of Soul-Snuff. Soul-snuff can be used as an ingredient in any recipe that calls for mortal emotions. Ivadora also rolled well, though Hello Darkness has taken a Chipped Tooth which is a Level 1 Liver injury. ----------- Cat (2/10H) and Fa - Outside the Orrery The vibrations Fa leaves in her wake catch wayward souls of the dead and pull them closer to the source. Invisible soulstuff gathers in a wake, first small and then growing larger and larger. The ethereal feelings of screams and confusion lose strength and are replaced with warmth and acceptance. Cat knows that if Dog were still here she would be trying to jump in the soulstuff as if it were a pile of leaves. She could never leave well enough alone. Maybe she’s in there somewhere, where she can do no harm but still comfort the lost. That’s the kind of thing she would care about. There’s nothing more to be done about the dead, at least for now. Without a receptacle for them, they can only hold onto each other. And so hold together they shall. --- The Grace of Cat gives some of the stars the pride and dignity to hold on longer. They are not sapient, but can understand now that they have beauty and individuality to maintain. The energies want to return to their lowest resting place a little more slowly. --- The divine signature of the Microcosm is spotted among the morass of twisting soulstuff and cosmic energies, barreling towards your planet. It is massive enough that imaging equipment at the Orrery helps you see it. A black oil seeps out of it and seems to entangle celestial objects it passes by - moons, planets, nebulae - pulling them not just out of orbit but seemingly also out of the laws of physics. They stop and go and change directions randomly. But the Microcosm itself stays focused, directly towards the Orrery at high speed. If it is not stopped, it will arrive in a few days time. And presumably create an explosive catastrophe the likes of which have not been seen since the days of the Warring Titans. ----------- Everyone - The Edge of All Things As ‘night’ passes, marked by an erratically zig-zagging sun from the south, a swirling storm becomes visible over the tip of the horizon. Slums and apartments are lifted up and dance in a slow waltz, not seeming to impact each other, but losing a little bit of material with every cycle. They are from Oximil, the City of What If, where exiles and widows came to leave their regrets behind. The ancient walls were stuffed with small letters and notes in holes and pockmarks, where the denizens wrote their fears and broken dreams so that they could be kept outside and not at home. Many thousands, possibly millions of pieces of paper encircle the city like a cloud of doves. The storm is a powerful thing, radiating energy that none of you have felt before except when traveling to the farthest edges of space: the energy of creation and conversion. It is not pure, having already seeded itself with patterns. It is a Sacred Place, and it echoes the Domains of Wind, Dust and Regret.   (OOC: So begins the map. Players may move anywhere on the map at any time, unless a pathway becomes blocked for some reason, but they may perform their actions in only one place per post. Cohorts may be given instructions to perform an action in a different area than the deity. Divine beings may travel through open space at great speeds with a modicum of preparation (no in-scene super speed except as an action), and even with injuries.) Ivadora and Trespasser have drained a decent number of souls, or converted them into fun new divine nacrotics. And Fa has gathered another great clump of them, ready to be processed, stored, or otherwise dealt with. The situation in the Star Ward at the Orrery is critical, any rolls involved with saving the stars are Desperate now. Meanwhile Cat has bought a bit more time to deal with more dying stars. Oh and the Microcosm is a horrifying morass of corruption charging straight towards the Orrery and yet another cataclysmic disaster. You should probably do something about that. You can either simply destroy the Microcosm, or attempt to enter it and disable the engines internally, and as a bonus objective see if the soul stasis tanks are still usable. Entering the Microcosm is a livescene for two people, I strongly suggest characters who have the means to defeat, subvert, or sneak past hostile entities. Special Thanks for my Co-GM, 9IrongSwingsClub, for finding the art used in this update, producing the map, for writing the Omixil and Cat/Fa sections, and editing. The Unlife Aquatic fucked around with this message at 21:55 on Jul 5, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jul 5, 2018 21:13
|
|
|
Siderous The Star-Heart, Marvak's Orrery Nothing else exists in the universe except his task. Memories flash through his mind as he calls for his children-made-child, Starkin. He stretches himself across the realm, assuming the guise of a full nebula enveloping the "star ward." "Help me, Starkin. We must buy more time. I will seal this place as best I can - we must cool them down. Lower gravity in this ward, and I will dim the power of light. Then I will attempt to remove the impurities of a billion years of life lost for our kin." As reality warps inside this zone, Siderous will reach a ghostly hand down into the ward, then another, and another - it was a desperate act, for a desperate time. He weaves waves of gravity itself, reaching into the heart of these dying stars. He will attempt to pluck out the heavy elements at the heart of his kin, and pull them out. He will try to leave them with cores of light hydrogen, the heart of a young and vibrant star. He looks up at the sky momentarily. Once, there were trillions upon trillions of his kin. The sky glowed. Now there was a scarce hundred. OOC - Siderous, M.D. Action 1: Use Light +2 to lower C, the speed of light, at a proportional level to a decrease that Starkin is going to do. Basically Siderous is going to turn down the stellar-pressure that is holding up these stars at the same time that Starkin will decrease gravity in the same area, hopefully slowing down their natural processes without causing them to explode/collapse. I will be Pushing for another dice. Cohort Action: Starkin will use Gravity +2 to turn down G in the "star ward," while Siderous lowers C, in combination slowing down the natural rate of fusion in the core to give more time for the next action. Action 2: Use Gravity +2 to try and carefully pull the heavy-elements from the cores of the dying stars, leaving them with young and vibrant hydrogen cores once more. I will also be Pushing for another dice here. I am at a total of 6 Hubris.
|
|
#
?
Jul 6, 2018 01:31
|
|
|
The Trespasser It was clear the clock has been ticking, with the Orrery being pressured from all sides, including from within. And yet there was so much to do in that very short slice of time. Learn. Take in. Grasp. Pick up. Digest. Comprehend. Study. Master. And so there was no other way but to hurry, one's priorites straight and focused. The Orrery seemed fine, if in need of diligent bugbombing before there's time to gaze into the threads of causality again. A task best left to those of more irate persuasion. The stellar reconstruction effort apparently turned out to be some petty personal drama.Then there was the soul business. The grim lady seemed to have this figured out - and more importantly, it seemed prudent not to overstay one's welcome. That meant it was time to establish another foothold for the Grand Design. One of powerful truths, the kind that could pierce through the troublesome bounds of this place. The kind of ideas that could trespass on the very notion of possibility. And one seemed to just have swirled into existence. - - - Action 1: I embark on a journey to the shattering cities of Omixil. En route, I swerve towards all the stars Siderous left behind, all these sure goners not worth the time of the impromptu triage whose resources have already been stretched thin. Unbound by personal ties to these dying relics of the past cycle, the god of Rebirth 2 (and forcing it) steals whatever light and warmth still clings to the dying rocks until they have enough for an abrupt implosion of a new protostar. A flash in the sky followed by another and another and another shall light the way to Trespasser's newfound nest and these fierce new burning signposts shall sing to the void about the glory of the new Omixil. (If it's of any difference map-wise, I imagine it to count as within the Omixil location. Think of this as stellar city suburbs.) Action 2: Once at Omixil, I utilize my Insight 2/Key 2 (I'd go with Insight, but feel free to go with whichever you feel is more appropriate) to study the assorted gestalt of regrets this universe has had up to this point. There is bound to be precious knowledge hidden there. Repentant secrets the tongue did not dare to share. The true nature of this place. Or at the very least, plenty of lingering emotions. I'm interested in major construction projects at Omixil in near future (in no particular order): - A domain temple, with my eyes set on Regret for reasons. - A thriving mortal city. Given I'm going for some creative Bird Solutions here, a second "competing" city at this place could work pretty well. Lichtenstein fucked around with this message at 09:58 on Jul 14, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jul 7, 2018 15:41
|
|
|
Livescene # 2 - Cat, VOTH and Ivadora travel to the Microcosm: https://saroleplays420.wordpress.com/livescene-2-microcosm/
9IronSwingersClub fucked around with this message at 05:33 on Jul 9, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jul 8, 2018 04:34
|
|
|
VOTH - The Edge of All Things Hubris: 2 It was his brother's work. The way the connections crossed in perfectly organized pattern, the way how that distinctly angular Divine Presence held it all together, held it all in check. Mayhaps it had kept the tanks safe as well? VOTH gave a silent thanks to his late brother for his due diligence, and promised to follow in his steps as well as he could. He took one last look at the framework, then deactivated it, and left with the tanks and other assorted loot in tow. He would return here, but more pressing matters still remained. Near the Orrery, Siderous still toiled with their ward. Their task yet undone, the situation dire. But at least, now there was VOTH as well. "I RETURN with my QUEST a SUCCESS. I APOLOGIZE for my ABSENCE during such a time", he stated, and got to work without further word. OOC: Action 1: VOTH will be using Light +2 to assist Siderous with his Light. Action 2: Using ORDER +2 to assist Starkin with their efforts to mess with natural constants.
|
|
#
?
Jul 8, 2018 11:40
|
|
|
Cat Cat came flying out of the Microcosm, almost seeming to vibrate in place, and occasionally belching some sort of sickly ooze from his mouth. He was purring, oddly enough - well, odd to anyone who didn't know much about the behaviour of Cats. He felt...strange, a little woozy. His faculties seemed intact to him, but he was self-aware enough not to trust his instincts in this situation. That'd be just like Coyote, the jerk. And so, like all sick cats, Cat retreated, blurring across space in a streak of starlight. He found a dim brown dwarf towards the end of its life cycle, barely hotter than a warm lake, and dove into its surface. Ignoring the gravity and terrible pressures still at work, Cat just curled up in a ball and tried to clear his head. Dumb, it was all so dumb! And Coyote was the worst, tricking all these people into thinking the universe had broken. This was worse than the trick with Owl and the vomiting! Cat was angry again, but this time he caught it, and pushed it away. He was cool, he was calm - even someone as perfect as Cat could make a mistake if they got angry. He had to clear his head if he wanted to get back to work. *** Hubris: 10 Action 1: Meditate! Action 2: More Meditation!
|
|
#
?
Jul 8, 2018 14:16
|
|
|
Ivadora - And now there were so many more to play with, and play she does. Over a rather horrifying song-and-dance, Ivadora attempts to put together some beings based on the Microcosm's bestiary capable of powering the soul vats. When she gets something functional, she transfers what's left of the soul stash over. Meanwhile Hello Darkness, ordered not to eat any more of the inhabitants, is ordered to lay out infrastructure for future building. ****** Action 1: Using Metal and Meat +2 transform and breed enough bioorganic beasties (uh, while avoiding using the crew or anything sapient) from the microcosm to build a reliable power/electrical system. Action 2: Using Insight+2 to hook the soul storage up and fill it with the souls we collected. Action 3: Hello Darkness will use Industry+1 to clean up the Mircocosm and prepare it for future expansion
|
|
#
?
Jul 8, 2018 18:09
|
|
|
Turn 2 - And It’s Quiet Down The Hallway, Where The Doctors Wash Their Hands… Siderous (6/10H), Starkin, and VOTH - The Star Ward One hundred and eight stars. One hundred and eight operations. Each divine star’s mind is totally gone, only Siderous and Xela are left. But in the hollow spaces of each mind, you find a strange golden fluid. It glitters against the darkness, smells of honey and steel and blood. It seeps into Siderous’s skin, and he hears the whispering of a thousand voices, the memory of a thousand prayers strung together. It is a substance VOTH has only read about in books stolen from Marvak and Gogoth’s libraries - Ambrosia. The raw stuff of creation, unseen in the universe for octillions of years. He scrapes it out with a careful hand, and breathes new life into each of their hearts. Their minds will never stir again, but they will live on. They will live on. When VOTH and Siderous are finished with their work, their hands shake, their souls shake. The Starkin collapse, sick and shaking. Together their souls whimper in the dark as stomach acid spreads across the floor. They hid their illness while they worked, desperate to save the universe against their own pain. OOC: You fuckers actually did it. You saved all the stars you found. But the Starkin have taken a Punctured Stomach (level 2 Stomach Injury) in the process. Cat (4/10H) - The Heart Of A Brown Dwarf Why would Coyote do this to poor innocent Cat? You cannot think of a good reason. Sure there were a few times things weren’t great between you, but there was always a respect Coyote had for you. Cryptic jokes, shared laughter, sometimes even a card. But then what were those eyes you saw? Those sickly yellow eyes still burn in the dark corners of your mind. The laughter still rings in your ears, why didn’t that dumb angel hear any of it? Dumb angel, didn’t appreciate your divinity. Your tail swishes back and forth in the stars heart, so much so that it stirs the heart, keeps it alive. OOC: You burned 6 Hubris between two rolls, and accidentally saved a stars life. Well done, hairball. Ivadora - At The Microcosm “Boss, boss! They won’t stop biting me!” Hello Darkness screams. He runs from the Microcosm towards a platform made of spare deck plates Ivadora scrounged up. A dozen inky seal-squids follow him, and Ivadora actually has to put down her drat blowtorch/meat tenderizer long enough to save the loving thing. Her hands are slick with gore when she’s done. The batteries wouldn’t take electrical input anymore, the fuckers. Electricity was too unreliable, couched on too many laws that were too loose now. There was only one real solution to this problem, instead of trying to treat them as two pieces of a separate whole she puts a spin on the problem the Imperial Lady herself would approve of - she merges the tanks and the flesh, making them into a whole living organism. It doesn’t jive quite perfectly, and the thing is liable to get sick, or need a recharge in a few aeons, but its still some of the cleverest engineering Ivadora’s ever done. She’s actually sort of proud of it. The souls are easily and safely funneled into it. And the machine hums happily, tethered to the Edge of All Things. OOC: Hello Darkness got the locals in the Microcosm riled again, but you managed to finish the biobattery. It’s working for now, but it’s likely to eventually need maintenance. You then safely loaded the souls into it, making a real dent in the mess by soaking up what you and Fa had. You also managed to salvage either the fingers or the teeth of the great alligator-like creature in the Microcosm, your choice which. The fingers are lined with powerful sensory organs and muscles, while the teeth are quite sharp and corruptive. Trespasser (4/10H) - Listening To Omixil Mixing stars is a delicate art. So many little electrons floating around, at least you think they’re electrons. You’re still not entirely sure on the details, these physics are odd. Plastic, yet stiff. Lively, yet ordered. They live between every contradiction you can imagine, and that makes it so hard to balance all the factors in a star’s heart. You raise a few protostars that spark and take life, but most gutter and die in the dark. Oh well. It was an interesting object lesson at least. You have already been to Omixil. It was happening here. In this little courtyard. You see yourself land on a broken pipe. It screeched under your weight. Birds hung mute in the sky. Bits of stone glittered in the dark, flashed faded green and powdery blue. You listened to the wind, and it listened to you. Your heartbeat became the wind, and the wind moved between the cracks and crevices with greedy fingers. They soaked up so many secrets; forgotten affairs, lost battles, silent addictions, and dead dreams. History stretched in your mind like a dead snake, breathing ink into your heart. When you left Omixil, there were tears in your eyes, and a smile in your heart. OOC: You somewhat succeeded at making new protostars, creating somewhere between 20 and 30, depending on how you count them. And you crit on the Omixil roll, as a result you recieve two free pushes for the purpose of remembering, or using history to your advantage. You may only spend one a turn. --- With the Microcosm stopped mid-charge and set into a stable position, many of the celestial bodies it was dragging with its black tendrils stopped alongside it. Three new planets can be seen in the near sky.  Mortals lived in the few valleys available on Keeling’s surface, so named for the need of boats and planes to travel through treacherous terrain. Great mountain ranges and vast oceans separated what little arable land could be found. It is now flooded, with only the tip of the tallest mountain jutting out of the ocean planet. This was not caused by just changes in gravity. Something divine deep inside is creating more water. What society used to exist a few days ago is many miles away from the visible light of the surface. But with a view like this, what else do you need from life? Keeling Mountain is a Sacred Place, and echoes the Domains of Water, Ruin and Tranquility. ---  Heart’s Ease is - or rather, was - one of the few great fears a deity could have in the universe. The serene beauty hid a dark purpose and even darker clientele - the containment and rehabilitation of dangerous divine beings. Rough warriors of ancient battles kept the peace with zero tolerance for shapeshifting and magic, fully devoted to their grim cause. It was a dangerous world, but one which most deities seemed to feel was necessary when asked and then forgot about. Out of sight, out of mind. But the facilities and the guards are now gone. And so presumably anyone unlucky enough to be caught on that side of the world. It is difficult to see further - the atmosphere is clouded in thick dust, some of which glimmers in bright colors and randomly sets alight again like a sparkler. Violet and mauve chemicals pool in the recessed cracks of the planet. This was not natural. Ivadora met a few of the deities kept here, before or after their sentence. There was a particularly memorable one - Chrysie. A young woman with wispy, round poms in her gray hair, the most innocent smile, a penchant for sass, and the shortest temper. Goddess of Chemicals. Confined to the planet on an indefinite sentence. Her crime? An explosive ‘surprise’ in the birthday cake of someone who annoyed her, that took out their home and servants and left a frosting tattoo on their godhead that lasted for weeks. “All I did was throw the biggest loving party bash those nerds had seen in their misbegotten lives,” Ivadora heard her rant when the heat started to build up and other people in the underworld stopped feeling safe around her. Not that they really did before - if a room was silent for too long she would interrupt it yelling “KABOOM!” People liked to buy her explosives for fun or profit, but stayed far away from her. No doubt she's been up to plenty of trouble in the years since. It seems like she stepped the party up a notch. But was it before or after the light switch flickered? ---  No one can recognize the third planet. A city of giant pyramidal temples covered in mirror plates are the only standout feature of the desert planet. You can’t identify any divine presence from the outside, but you do notice light behaving oddly at the entrances, where rather than reflecting off the plates it seems to converge in a maze of threads traveling around the premises. As you walk through the complex, the passage of time takes on a special weight. It moves against your lungs, whispers in your throat, even the speed of light squeals under its blazing, invisible eye. And as you approach it the sensation only gets worse, gravity begins to bend, objects float around the beams - stones, pebbles, bits of bone and dust. Something deep inside this planet is wrong. Even without the Microcosm’s black ooze, this place feels corrupting. Even moreso than the Microcosm does now. (OOC: This can be explored in a 2-2.5 hour livescene for 2 players, or through actions) ---  OOC: Mooring is now visible. This is a numerical representation of how much a region is attached to the laws of the universe, going from -6 to 8 with 8 being the most stable. Strange things tend to happen in areas of low Mooring if they are left alone for too long, and negative Mooring can be a near-term danger. You can increase a region’s Mooring through the creation of Mooring Temples, Mortal worshippers, or by certain actions specific to a region’s challenges and nature. Connections between regions on the map may go through changes as the game progresses. They may be moved into new positions or blocked by actions taken by the players and NPCs. NPCs and disasters will tend to travel along the same connections that players can. We are changing the update schedule to once every four days. Fa may have their own mini-update to resolve actions before the next update on Friday the 13th. Each PC takes 2 Ambrosia, thanks to Siderous and VOTH. You may spend one Ambrosia to roll with a fundamental stat of your choice to heal yourself at no penalty, filling your injury clock in with accordance with clock advancement rules. Each PC acquires Orrery Scrap and Salvage Microcosm Hull Plating. For those with Immaculate Designer you will be able to build a temple in Omixil with a single action. Those without with need to fill a 0/4 clock, according to clock progression rules. Each action is 1D and you can use two deity actions (not cohort actions) towards it. The Complexity of Light wrote the player action results and part of the ??? temples and I wrote the rest! <3 9IronSwingersClub fucked around with this message at 06:03 on Jul 11, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jul 10, 2018 03:46
|
|
|
The Trespasser The wind. The wind. The Trespasser cawed with glee, despite the tears. It was all so obvious once you got it. The wind. It was the wind that still sang of shame, of sorrow, of longing, guilt and repentance aeons after the riddles of flesh that spawned them ceased to be. Free from the trappings of an inferior mind. Ripped from strands of context that ruthlessly anchors within space and time. Merciless and unceasing. Just pure, unadulterated regret. And so the nidification effort began. Right now, this was but a chaotic dump of interwoven steel, marble, neutrons and assorted bits of machinery stolen from the dead husk of Microcosm. Yet the Trespasser could see the complete design as clear as day. A grandiose egg hovering in the very middle of Omixil's dizyying vortex, protruding five flowing garlands, adorned with glistening, soundless instruments. Rows of small bells, pipes and tubes that catch the song sang by the gusts, rather than joining their choir. A simple, elegant structure of a single, elegant promise to all in the Creation: come bathe in the maelstrom and let us take your regret as but another tear in the stream. The one thing left to do was to choose an appropriate name for the nest. Thankfully, this was the easiest decision the Trespasser had to make since their arrival. Նվերներ չկան, they whispered to the void. Admittedly, this was supposed to be an entirely new Creation, but a single hint of nostalgia surely wouldn't matter in the big picture. --- Both actions: are put into Construction of a Regret domain temple on Omixil. As for future plans, I intend to - visit the time pyramids as soon as irl possible, - sooner or later, attempt to add Keeling Mountain's Ruin aspect as part of Rebirth, along wordy musings on the rise and fall of civilizations. An early warning on requisite resource quest would be appreciated, if might wait until I - take a dive at the Keeling Mountain to meet the Blastoise god. Lichtenstein fucked around with this message at 09:58 on Jul 14, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jul 10, 2018 22:07
|
|
|
Cat Cat came out of the heart of the dying star feeling oddly refreshed and invigorated, much like the star itself. He was ready to provisionally concede that Coyote had been a trickster, but not the kind of trickster that would wipe out the majority of the known universe. Well, at least not on purpose. His understanding of the universe thereby un-shaken, he pawed his way across the remaining (and now slightly unsettling) known universe, seeing what the other divinities had been up to. He noticed some new stars, some scooped up souls, and a collection of Ambrosia that had clearly been marked for him. He purred a little as he secreted it away to wherever gods put things when they don't have pockets. There were some new places as well - a strange city, and a few new planets. Bits of Heart's Ease were still carrying heat from when it exploded, and Cat noted that for the next time he felt like warming himself, but he stayed clear of Keeling Mountain for the time being, not wanting to get wet. But this strange new pyramidal planet looked off-putting, and wrong in the way the others hadn't. It reminded him of the Microcosm, and to him that meant more vermin trying to creep in under the floorboards. Between one heartbeat and the next, he was sniffing around on the planet's surface, investigating further. ~Livescene stuff goes here~ After a no doubt normal experience without any earth-shattering revelations for Cat, he returns from the planet deciding he should perhaps turn his efforts towards his actual divine responsibilities. Firstly, the unshielded souls are making a rather dreadful noise, and Cat finds that quite unpleasant. Fortunately, he's picked up a thing or two about shepherding the souls of the dead around. He'd learned a trick or two from Vulture, and when the humans got around to Naming an underworld god, he'd slipped into a totem animal role for a few thousand years until he'd gotten bored. Obviously, even on his small planet he couldn't show up for every death to escort the soul to the Great River (or was it the Endless Plain? It had been a while), so he'd sent lesser manifestations of himself in his place, little sparks of divine Cattery that would lead the souls home. Cat concentrated his divine energies - it was the same old trick, just on a little larger scale than he was used to. He simply had to lure them back to the batteries. With that out of the way, he decides to go back and check on the star he'd inadvertently churned back to life, and was surprised to find it was sustaining itself just fine! Though upon further thought, how could the movements of such an incredible god do anything else? Struck with a charitable impulse, Cat started going from star to star, frothing up their innards with flicking tail and darting paw. *** Action 1: Using Cat domain to drag some of those souls back to the Microcosm's batteries. Action 2: Using Prowess to manually stir up some stars!
|
|
#
?
Jul 12, 2018 22:59
|
|
|
Siderous The Star-Heart, Marvak's Orrery Siderous gives out a sigh of relief as the task is done, the intense focus of his being expanding outward as he begins to relax slightly. The immediate danger was over, but there was still work. Always work. The Universe was ending. There was more to be done. He looks around at the wreckage of the Orrery and where it was shattered. He breaths, and the "Star Ward" begins to shift and move. Gravity begins to shift, warping space and bringing the wreckage together in quiet harmony. Pieces begin to fit themselves back to the shattered Orrery, not to return it to its former glory - but instead to build something new, something necessary. Around, the 108 stars of the New Universe will orbit in a complex dance, silent sentries orbiting the last remnant of the reality that was. At the center of their orbit will be the new addition, a clockwork construction that seems to collect the light and energy of the surrounding stars. Light was warmth. Light was life. And as he works he creates a hospital, a place of divine healing for himself and his peers to help in the battles ahead. Concentrating the healing light of all the true stars left in the Universe. Out of respect for the former master of this place, Siderous makes sure the orbits are precise, complicating - a celestial clockwork of precise timing and stellar perfection. The outer walls are golden metal, but also seem cloudlike when you aren't looking straight at them. Inside the hospital is warm, reality itself seeming like a fuzzy blanket wrapping itself around those inside. Siderous first places Starkin there, letting the healing light suffuse them. He orders them to rest. They protest, but he insists. He is still a nebula. A vast, mercurial thing. He looks out at the cold darkness of the Universe. He knows this cannot be allowed. There would need to be stars again. Many more - enough to light up the whole sky. His vast form sees the distant city of Oximil and the endless dust whipped by its wind. He knows what he will do. However, it would require more effort. More sacrifice. The Potential - the remnants of soulstuff from his kin. He says a prayer. "Dust we were. Dust we are. Dust we will be. From the brightest star, the to darkest hearts. And though you are gone, it is not the end. We will meet again, when the cycle starts." As he whispers his words over the ambrosia, he sends part of himself with it. He feels the breath leave him, more and more. In the darkness a shape begins to form, a twisting spire. He tries to make the foundations of another temple, something to create a new nebula - the first of many. Taking the dust of this land of regrets, and turning it into a new source of light and warmth in the universe. He feels the divine connections forming, the metaphysical matrix and stellar mechanics snapping together as he goes to his work. He overreaches. The nebula convulses, a cough - he tries to finish the process, but can't. The temple stands half-completed. The materials unassembled. He tries to continue, but cannot. He has nothing more to give. His vision blurs slightly. He naturally drifts back toward the Divina Hospitium, settling next to it. Inside one of the rooms, a special permanent addition - he can see Vela. Wounded, but stable. Kept so by the constant stream of healing light from the drifting stars. "It's just us, now. They're all gone. Not just the stars, either. Of the Pillars, only one remains. There are a scant handful of other survivors. Why us? We were not the greatest, the wisest or the most powerful. Not all of us, anyway. I..." the nebula stills. It slowly contracts in on itself, "I don't even know if you can hear me." Action 1: Using Immaculate Designer and the Remnants of the Orrery to create the Divina Hospitium, the hospital for the gods as part of the Orrery iteslf. Action 2: I will use Immaculate Designer to take a Level 2 Lung Injury and spend my 2 Ambrosia to begin the material gathering process to construct a Temple of Dust on Oximil, with the intent of using it to generate nebula/star creation areas. Corhort Action: Starkin will utilize the Divina Hospitium to reduce their Stomach Injury to level 1 Hubris: 6 +2 Stellar Wrangling +2 Turning down C +2 Star heart surgery Injuries [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] ---Level 2 Liver Injury (Immaculate Designer) ---Level 2 Lung Injury (Immaculate Designer) Items/Artifacts ---Ambrosia [0] ---The Cosmic Lasso: Assists in moving objects across great distances in non-combat situations. ---Divina Hospitium [Used]: User can spend 1 action to reduce their injuries by one level. It must recharge for a full turn before it can be used again. If a PC doesn't take an injury during a turn they get 1 segment of their healing clock filled from hereon out.
|
|
#
?
Jul 13, 2018 04:39
|
|
|
VOTH - Keeling Mountain, The Microcosm of Genesis Hubris: 2 A perfectly still thing it was. As far as the eye could see stretched a watery surface so devoid of movement it could have as well been a mirror. And in the very middle, a white Pillar pierced the surface, rising a few feet above the waters. And upon the Pillar, stood VOTH, perfectly silent, perfectly still. Not that he could be otherwise, even if he wished it, for the Seat of Serenity allowed for no such thing. It was orderly, peaceful tranquility made manifest. A small piece, but a piece still, of this shattered, corrupted remain of creation that was pure of any disturbance of any sort. A place for him to think. A place for him to unwind. A place for VOTH to be alone with his thoughts a moment, a place that reminded him of the past. Yes. In the Seat of Serenity, VOTH was content. He wished such a state would last. Alas. VOTH spared a thought, and then the Pillar stood alone. ~~~~ He had only been there once before, but VOTH stalked the halls of the Microcosm as if he had known the place for years and years. There was a certain standardized sameness to all the things GOGOTH designed that made them feel almost instantly familiar to VOTH. Thus it didn't take too long for VOTH to arrive at his destination. A scurrying hive of the strange, insectile aberrations that now called the Microcosm their home, if they even did. But their opinion mattered little to VOTH, for to him it was their home for it was where they now lived. They would be allowed to stay. It was unlikely, VOTH thought, that the creatures had a hand in their presence on the ship, and thus evicting them would've been pointlessly cruel, at least as a first step. But they were still inhabiting a room of one of The Three Pillars. And in so doing, they would need to live with rules. "HEED!", he spoke to the creatures, "For I am VOTH, the last of THE THREE PILLARS. And I WILL for you to KNOW, that you inhabit the HOUSE of my BROTHER. And I WILL for you to KNOW that I will ALLOW you to stay." VOTH kept a pause, to let the words echo. "HOWEVER", he continued, "If you are to accept the GIFT of HOME, then you must also accept the DUTY of VIGIL, lest you overstay your WELCOME. For this is NOT a place I will allow you to DEFILE. If you are to STAY, you must take CARE of it like it were your own HOUSE. You must keep it PURE, you must not allow the creeping CORRUPTION to set in. And in so DOING, shall you find a PLACE." "Now", VOTH's presence grew heavy. "Are you a BLESSING, or a BLIGHT?" "CHOOSE." OOC: Action 1: Instacompleting a Domain Temple (The Seat of Serenity) on Keeling Mountain, nabbing Tranquility which is subsumed into my ORDER to make it lvl 3. Action 2: Using ORDER +3 to set some house rules to the riled up denizens of the Microcosm to get them to behave if they're going to stay. Theantero fucked around with this message at 18:35 on Jul 13, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jul 13, 2018 18:07
|
|
|
Livescene #3 - Geometry of Shadows - Cat and Trespasser explore the strange desert temple: https://saroleplays420.wordpress.com/livescene-3-geometry-of-shadows/
|
|
#
?
Jul 14, 2018 02:34
|
|
|
Ivadora - Spending time on dissolving hellballs probably isn't a good idea, but Iva takes time to tour it and some of the stranger areas that have popped up. Meanwhile, Darkness pokes around where he is not wanted back on the Microcosm. ****** Action 1: Exploring Heart's Reach for anything useful, or any survivors, just on a lark. Prowess+2 for a primarily physical task? Action 2: Poking the machine in the temple with Insight+2 Action 3: Hello Darkness will use Insight+2 to investigate the black goo animating so many of the creatures on the Microcosm, while trying to avoid being smacked by VOTH. Ronwayne fucked around with this message at 13:27 on Jul 17, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jul 14, 2018 03:05
|
|
|
Turn 3 - Have to Start Somewhere, Right? VOTH (2/10H) - The Microcosm of Genesis They listen, they listen oh so well. The sound of waves is still fresh on your voice, a gift from the Keeling Mountain, from your temple there. As they listen they are gripped with fervor and passion, perhaps too much. But all the same they set off with holy purpose to “clean” the ship for you. Unfortunately they’re part of the corruption themselves, but instead of giving into despair they channel that self-hatred into working harder - pushing as much corrupt material into storage as possible, and making their homes in it - leaving the rest for you. OOC: They got the message and won’t need to be pacified again, but they perhaps got the message a little too well. They’re at risk for getting a little too frisky with deities VOTH might look down on. ------------------ Trespasser (4/10H) - Omixil; Your Temple When it is finished, it whispers into your mind. You choke on tears again. Remembering all the regrets of every soul, they’re starting to bloom into something new now. Something terrible and wrong. There is screaming, a rancid sweetness that clings to the back of your beak and fills your mind with anxiety. Throats are born to be torn out, to make new sounds. Hands cover eyes, more hands to carry their burdens. All this, you can hear. And all this, fills you with terror. OOC: Your temple is finished! You have Regret 1 now and also Gnosis 3 as a result. ------------------ Cat (6/10H) - Among The Stars A flick of the paw sets solar winds in motion. It is a little more complicated than just the movement - a lot of preparation and energy goes into something like this - but the gesture should look as powerful as befits a vain being. Some stars move towards each other and grow stronger, some move away and grow weaker. It seems to be a bit of a wash, but on closer inspection there are more strongly burning stars than there were before. A few of them settle closer to the Edge. Maybe someone else can get a closer look at them, if they care about such things. With that matter complete, it is time to take another look at the souls still crowding around the place. Terrible things, mewling all the time. It’s like they’ve never died before. Well, they’ll still get to serve in the afterlife as part of the Microcosm’s Battery. Maybe everyone should start calling it the Bastery - after all, it’s the cat doing all the work maintaining the place. But something is different this time. The souls stop heeding the call. They go in the other direction, instead. They congregate in masses and stretch and contract, and start to take physical forms while they do so. Ones they had in life, possibly. But they are uniform in the funeral attires of their cultures. Blacks and whites, masks and veils, all in pale ghostly visage. And they seem to have picked up another pair of arms from somewhere. That is curious. But Cat doesn’t stick around to inquire further. These congregations seem to mean business, so it’s time to split. ------------------ Siderous (6/10H) - Omixil The Divina Hospitium is quiet. So quiet. It is lit with soft golden-brown light, with high shadowy ceilings. Lights flicker across them in moments, in breaths. Xela listens, and when Siderous finishes she laughs in her own way. A storm of radio waves and light that is familiar and comforting to Siderious. “Of course I can hear you, oaf.” The same playful spirit, strangled by wheezing. “Don...don’t know either.” A bitter laugh, it catches in the ceiling and you can hear it a dozen times over. “Maybe we’re just lucky.” Siderous does not feel lucky. Neither does Starkin, surrounded by a warren of beeping tape-computers counting out it’s life. ----- Omixil is so crowded with sounds, the sort of sounds that a star finds strange. Whispering, whistling, sobbing. The sounds born of quiet, alien to your mind as red to a dog. Ambrosia and star-fire become walls of yellowed ivory and powder blue. It is beautiful, it is almost perfect. It is only missing one thing, the essence of regret. A powerful regret must consecrate this place before it can truly be built. This is only a shell, not the soul. OOC: Xela can talk back, I’ve gone for a playfully sarcastic tone for her. If that doesn’t work, let me know. To begin construct of your Temple of Dust you will need a Symbol of Profound Regret to consecrate it. ------------------ Ivadora - Heart’s Ease The choking ash still permeating the atmosphere is too thick to allow for sight, and it seems to dampen sound. The only things that can be heard are the cackling electrical storm of a magnetic field out of whack and the fizzle-pooooom of stray chemicals igniting. You try to summon a gust of wind from your pure divine energy, but you only breathe in more fumes. It will take more effort to search here. It takes a lot out of you to warp away, and some of the gases follow. [Level 1 Injury: Lungs] ----- Temple of Prism Poking around the machine is difficult. Very little of this technology makes sense to you. You can tell that it is divine in composition but follows the most advanced concepts of the modern age. You can confirm Trespasser’s suspicion that the circuit boards are heavily weighted towards arithmetic operations, on a scale that seems abnormal for a device this size. There is input in the form of switches and dials, but the output seems to go nowhere. Perhaps whoever made this machine didn’t think anyone else would need to operate it, and so didn’t bother with the effort of labeling its mechanisms. On your way out of the temple, you hear the pitter-patter of bare footsteps in the dark. Whatever the others encountered is still here. But they don’t seem to be causing any more trouble. At least, none that you can tell. ----- Hello Darkness - Microcosm “BOSS! BOSS!” Hello Darkness screams into Ivadora’s head from across the stars. “THEY’RE TRYIN’ TO THROW ME AWAY! THE ANGEL GUY YELLED AT’EM AND NOW THEY’RE MAD AT ME!” OOC: Hello Darkness is being dragged around by the denizens of the Microcosm because they were told to take out the trash. The machine is beyond you without further assistance. The Lung injury may be resisted if you desire. ------------------  An ancient mansion orbits one of the stars Cat pulled in. Completely intentionally, of course. It sits on a dug-up foundation of roots and trash. The stone walls are warped, seeming to be pulled in different directions. It is a curious sight on its own, but it radiates a divine presence - not an intelligent one, but a powerful one nonetheless. Ambrosia and something else. Perhaps that is how it was able to survive whatever calamity befell its neighbors. OOC: The castle may be explored with actions (no livescene needed). ------------------  Majakazumi’s Magical Scrapball becomes caught in the wake of Heart’s Ease - a place Voth remembers well. The busted animatronic dummies Majakazumi left outside always animated just long enough to quip at him when he had to come by, usually because Marvak had partied too hard (thankfully, a rare occurrence) and was vomiting in her toilet. Those visits always left her smelling like motor oil and engine grease for weeks, and with disreputable stains on her dresses. A small smudge on her otherwise perfect record. They also traded clocks back and forth, whether it was a rivalry, a strange courtship ritual, or both is a question left only to history now. It still grows, picking up bits of trash and forgotten things that would otherwise go to waste. A perfect loop, it may well grow forever if nothing is done. Thankfully, it would take many aeons to become a threat. But all that divine power...maybe this could become a Sacred Place with the slightest bit of tinkering. And Siderous can sense...something inside. Something that whispers of unsaid words and longing glances. OOC: The Scrapball can be explored with actions (no livescene needed) and can be turned into a Sacred Place with the domains of Trash, Forgetfulness, and Jury-Rigging with some effort. It also has an object that will satisfy Siderous’s needs at its heart. ------------------  OOC: All the stars you didn’t manage to save have blinked out. I’d say in the overall analysis it’s about 150, mostly around the Orrery and Omixil. Also, the souls you couldn’t save have curdled into Mourners. Mobs of Mourners will attack the fabric of reality regularly, eating it and turning it into more Mourners. When Mourners first attack a place they temporarily reduce it’s Mooring by 2. If they are not dispersed within a turn they will do permanently damage the mooring by -1. The temporary mooring damage will be adjusted to account. (So -2 becomes -3). Also, pursuant to conversations on Discord everyone who doesn’t get an injury in a turn takes segment on their healing clock. Please keep track of that. And we allowed some fudging on movement rules this turn, but in the future we will keep to the 2 deity actions in one region rule. Special Thanks To NineSwingersClub for writing Cat, Ivadora, the castle description, and the livescene. The Unlife Aquatic fucked around with this message at 03:56 on Jul 14, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jul 14, 2018 03:51
|
|
|
The Trespasser Ah! A first visitor to my new nest! The Trespasser quickly shook its creeping anxiety, as the occasion called for a regal welcome. "Greetings, good doctor," they began. "Welcome to my humble abode. It might be but a pile of wind and dust, yet it offers the most precious of gifts. The promise to reach deep inside you and tear all your regrets away. And you do seem like a man who could use some forgetfulness before he truly enters the new age of creation." "But I'm getting ahead of myself. I've been really admiring your work on these... Stellar constructs. The skill, the precision, the touch of love that makes everything so much better, doesn't it? I've wondered what an artiste such as you could achieve if unburdened from the menial economics of it. Say... If you've met a kind patron, who'd understand the beauty and importance of your designs, willing to shower you in ambrosia with not a single string attached. Oh, just think of the marvels that would lie at your fingertips! Say, for example... A triangular star? Tetrahedron is the proper word, I believe." ''Surely that wouldn't be a problem for someone of your calibre, would it?'
|
|
#
?
Jul 14, 2018 10:38
|
|
|
Fa - Omixil It sucks. It all sucks. She kicks a stone off a paved path, the remnant sent spiralling off into the void of space. She hates the quiet. It gives her too much time with her thoughts and she hates thinking. But that’s all she’d done lately. She tried playing music, but her heart just isn’t in it. Not even some mournful dirge or swelling depressive score. So she’d been scouring this city. The Star Lord and the alien crow are trundling about the cityscape somewhere, and it isn’t like she hides from them, not exactly. It’s just… the former seems pretty content with nursing celestial bodies, and the latter… she doesn’t trust that one. Some oily veneer is carried on them and she doesn’t quite know what to make of that. Barefooted, she scrambles up a wall to a crumbling boulevard, a stack of crumpled letters and unsent prayers held in her hand. As she makes her way downtown, she turns the missives over, reads them, and tosses them in her wake. Sorrow. Regret. That’s all these prayers can mostly amount to anymore. Fa sighs and dumps off the over-burdened cloth sack she’d been carrying. Which isn’t really a sack, of course, the entire thing is a metaphorical manifestation of a notion of a bundle that she does carry in so much as she brings it with her. And the contents are similarly a symbolic representation of the real precious cargo she’d been gathering: souls, unreaped by whatever End had befallen the cosmos. Fa turns to her left, nodding to Fa. That Fa looks across to a third Fa, giving a nod, and that one in turn, acknowledges three more standing before them. Right. Journey of a thousand leagues begins with a single yadyadawhatever. And if you don’t do it, who else will? There’s a lot to work with here. She could use this. Regret is a passion of a kind - a function of passion, anyway. She doesn’t need much. Just enough to keep the lights on, so to speak. Each of the images of Fa’s mortal guise split up down the boulevard, grasping and tearing at stonework, manipulating matter, laying down lines and patterns. There is a resonant hum that begins as the Passion breaks and borrows from the ruins of the city Omixil, repurposing it in her pursuit. A great well is carved out of a stone basin, stepped with benches like the ancient odeons her adherents had built in their bygone eras. The goddess-images shove their fingers into the stonework beneath the seats and stage, then tug metal pipes and tubing out of motes of space rubble. The whole thing is nonsense, devoid of most any sane engineering, but these things matter little. It is about the idea, the aesthetic, the passion. What results is some strangely smooth and ornate marriage of a sprawling pipe organ and a kinetoscope, with the guts and reels and tubes riddling the underbelly of the odeon. Burnished brass mirrors and topaz lenses take the pale, winnowing starlight offered by the dimly-lit galaxy, and create a warm, orange and golden light that suffuses the outdoor cinema. As the montage winds down, all the Fa-images reconvene and coalesce into a single being, who takes the shards of mortal essence, made manifest as tiny glittering shards of purple quartz, and gingerly tosses them into the funnel mouth of the grand device. There is a lurching hum as reels and wheels turn, a clicking and other assorted bells and whistles, slow at first, then faster until it settles into a dull hum. The air of the odeon is filled with a hazy fog, billowing out from before-mentioned whistles. Light pours through the topaz lenses, projecting honey and sepia images out onto the floor of the stage, somewhere between a three dimensional hologram and a two dimensional film. A few frames or stills of a sunrise. Cut. A sink, a human’s hands being washed. Cut. A woman’s face, smiling. Cut. Spinning on and on. This is what it looks like when we tell each other the stories in our heads. A shifting stream of snippets from the dreams of souls, which splay out and stimulate or inform the other souls stored, who in turn dream out more images and scenes, feeding on eachother. A cycle of stimulus to entertain and refresh and nourish these untethered souls while they languish in containment. This is what Fa has made. Until mortals can be mortal again, until a true cycle is put into place, this raw material will be watered and preserved, and spare them the horrific disfiguring trauma of being untethered spirits at this End of Time. A sanctum for soul survivors, a cinema of ghost-haunted dreams, an ark, built on Regret, animated by Passions, meant to dazzle and amaze the Senses. And for now, a place that isn’t so quiet and dead as the rest of the crumbling universe. Fa takes more than a little time to settle back and enjoy her own theater. Sorry for my absence, as talked about, had some IRL stuff in the way. I don’t care terribly about making up lost actions, Fa is primarily just wanting to seek out bits and pieces to lay down the fundaments of the universe again. She is in damage control mode, or at least trying to be! Likely as not, she will attempt to repel or reap Mourners and feed anything salvageable back into her Dream Theater. Past that, she would probably look to increase the mooring of places or repelling Mourners, but especially Omixil and the Microcosm. Is there a standard action for Mooring, or is it more like, you have to do something to the place to restore it? So I guess, Fa’s turns look something like this: Action 1: Passion 2 to Construct the Dream Theater Action 2: Senses 1 or Ritual 1 to Construct the Dream Theater Action 1: Spent trying to secure the mooring on the places she feel’s most important to restoring harmony Action 2: Ditto.
|
|
#
?
Jul 15, 2018 13:43
|
|
|
Cat Cat was feeling a little miffed that the souls had stopped listening to him - truly it was a symbol of these strange times that souls no longer followed where cats beckoned. Fortunately, Cat was also quite good at dealing with vermin, especially the kind that snuck in and started chewing on important things. If any of them tried to mess with his hard-earned stars (Cat considered himself to have also earned the stars that the other deities saved, since obviously they couldn't have done it without his help), he'd claw them up something fierce! Maybe if he bit off their extra set of arms, he could shove them in a battery too? But that could be dealt with later, right now, there was a strange new castle around one of the stars he saved! It looked spooky, warped, and otherworldly, with just a hint of the divine. It reminded him a lot of the Sanctum, a demiplane the human god of Magic used to live in. She'd always tried to keep Cat out of it, so naturally Cat had used it as a second home whenever he'd gotten tired of the other animals in the pantheon. Only Dog had as much access to the human gods as Cat did, and Dog was too dumb to just ignore their repeated warnings not to sneak into the Sanctum, so Cat could curl up on some books and nap for a decade or three without being bothered. In fact, it was so familiar that Cat was prowling around for secret entrances and eventually slipping inside before the other gods even noticed the place existed. Either Cat would find some interesting god-stuff in here, or some vermin to snack on - win/win, really. Action 1: Using Cat domain to sneak in and prowl around inside the strange castle. Who knows what he'll find? Action 2: Using Insight to find some secrets in the weird castle! No one knows how to slip into rooms without permission like a cat!
|
|
#
?
Jul 16, 2018 20:12
|
|
|
The Trespaser The Trespasser has reached the Temple of Prism in somewhat low spirits. They knew the task before them would take more time and effort than they usually have the patience to spare, yet the rewards - oh, the possible rewards! - were more than enough to grit one's beak and persevere. Expertly navigating the temple's maze, Trespasser arrived in the inner chamber and patiently waited for the host to appear. Well, it might've taken making a bit of noise to draw her out, but surely nothing that could be considered faux pas. Once her attention was drawn, it was time for the true work to commence. Lure her curiosity, fiddling with some shiny pebbles borrowed off Omixil and Keeling. Get close, but not too close - regrettably, the whole anti-divinity thing seemed to be a matter that will be fairly late to discuss. Then, carefully arrange the piles between them. Speak slowly and make broad gestures. "One. Two. Three. Four. Հինգը. Six." A pause. "One. Two. Three. Four. Հինգը. Six. One plus one, two. One plus two, three. Two plus two, four." Your turn, lady. --- Action 1: I try establishing the basic language of mathematics - some common names for numbers and operation. Then mathematical functions like logarithms, sines and tangents. All this boring poo poo that will nevertheless form a frame of reference for subjects of mathematics and physics. Consider it Insight if you want to roll something. Action 2: Now for the intermediate lessons. With somewhat fluent pidgin established for maths, I step it up to interchanging increasingly complex physical theorems, through familiar calculations and proofs. Basically attempt at having a friendly discourse on theoretical physics. While mostly a pleasant exchange of already-held knowledge, it is not without an agenda. First, it allows to weasel in a number of - oftentime advanced - concepts through the language of mathematics. Space and time, energy and masss, and all the poo poo in-between. And mind you, I don't only look foward to dropping some names for them. If it all goes well, I'm willing to enter the territory of weird time-bending fuckery, thanks to the fabric-of-the-universe-piercing gaze of the Key granting necessary perspective. Perhaps the mystery of the prism will turn to be one of the easier topics, all things considered. PS. I'd find it rather funny for Trespasser to teach the being through their own լուսնի լեզուն speech, out of selfishness, secrecy and mostly sheer laziness/habit, but I'm not looking for it to really have further consequences than maybe "someone in the future rolls a 1 so I guess this one crucial word of alien's warning has only been remembered in the unspeakable interdimensional language" or an equivalent comedy scene.
|
|
#
?
Jul 17, 2018 12:18
|
|
|
Ivadora 5/10 Hubris PREVIOUSLY, ON THE CRASH: Ivadora spends a lot of her time literally coughing her lungs out. First phlegm, then blood, then a horrible tar substance that might be aeons of smokes coming back to haunt her. Through it, she see her lovely little imp begging for help. Taking time to grab it from the dumpster of the Microcosm, she sets sights on new things. "Boss, what are you going to do with it?" Iva and Darkness stare at the swirling mass of Majakazumi’s Magical Scrapball. Iva cracks her knuckles and smiles. "Oh, many things, but first, let's get to know it, and then let's make it home." ****** Action 1: Exploring Majakazumi’s Magical Scrapball with Insight+2 Action 2: Hello Darkness shuts down the trash maker per our discussion with Industry+1 Action 3: Starting construction of a domain temple to Meat and Metal+2 using the Jury Rig aspect using the parts from the Microcosm. Banking the sensory organs from the Microcosm by jamming them into a flesh wall for now. Ronwayne fucked around with this message at 13:41 on Jul 17, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jul 17, 2018 13:25
|
|
|
Siderous The Star-Heart, Divina Hospitium They talked, in the natural way. The vulgar words of the smaller beings were difficult for Vela to articulate in her condition, and there seemed to be a small bit of time without any immediate disaster to pull him away. To the outside it looks like they were unmoving, unwavering. Two glowing beings of light simply existing next to each other - it took a careful eye and knowledge of the Sun Gods to notice the gradual shifts in light, the bursts of radio, infrared and the rest of the electromagnetic spectrum. It was a slow form of communication, as Siderous tries to explain what has happened from his perspective, but it was... comforting. A single mote of familiar nostalgia of what was. Then a strange thing occurred. A bird that Siderous did not recognize fluttered up and began to offer Potential for the great projects. "I would welcome... The chance to build once again, to create... Anew," Siderous begins to gather his nebulous form again, "However right now there is... something specific I must... find." Tetrahedron stars? Siderous can scarcely comprehend such a thing. Even for an a exotic sun-god as himself, such a thing bordered on heresy. What was this strange bird who appeared and disappeared so suddenly? Questions for later. He excused himself from Vela, for there was still work left undone. The Scrapball It had taken time for him to move to this place. He still felt trouble returning to a smaller, less stellar form. However for these purposes his current nebulous shape would do. He can hear the echoes of regret and longing, feeling them like rays of light. Siderous seems to puff up then deflate in his cloud-form, knowing that he will not like what he finds here. But the universe was in tatters, and there was something in this ball of detritus and memories that could help in its repair. He reaches out a hand - a tendril of gas and dust, compressing down to a size to match the scrapball and beginning to glow with the pressure. He begins to seep into the tangled passages and darkened spaces, his glowing radiance casting aside concealing shadows as he explores this place. A place he felt a strange kinship for - a place of Creation, where the remnants of what came before can be forged into something new for the future. Unbidden thoughts of the black sky come to him. Friends and enemies. Stars he had known since their accretion. Stars that had known him since before he become the Star-Heart. The regrets begin to flow outward from his mind, drawn forth by this place. He steels himself, and continues. This had to be done. Action 1: Siderous will Meditate with 1 dice, relaxing from the intense burst of action at the start with an extended chat. Action 2: I will reach out a cloudlike hand into the scrap pile, glowing with stellar Light +2 to banish the concealing darkness and find the truth of these unspoken words. I will push for an extra dice. My Hubris is now 8-Meditation roll. Corhort Action: Resting/No Action Hubris: 6 +2 Stellar Wrangling +2 Turning down C +2 Star heart surgery Injuries [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] ---Level 2 Liver Injury (Immaculate Designer) ---Level 2 Lung Injury (Immaculate Designer) Starkin Injuries [X] [ ] [ ] [ ] ---Level 1 Stomach Injury Items/Artifacts ---Ambrosia [0] ---The Cosmic Lasso: Assists in moving objects across great distances in non-combat situations. ---Divina Hospitium [Free]: User can spend 1 action to reduce their injuries by one level. It must recharge for a full turn before it can be used again. If a PC doesn't take an injury during a turn they get 1 segment of their healing clock filled from hereon out.
|
|
#
?
Jul 17, 2018 14:16
|
|
|
VOTH - The Scrapball Hubris: 2 The Scrapball. It was a place that VOTH remembered, though not one he remembered particularly fondly. After all, he mainly ever visited to drag his Sister home after one of her... escapades. ... But all that was in the past now. He had a new quest, a new mission, and if he wanted to turn those creatures in the Microcosm into exemplar inhabitants of the New Creation, he would have to fix up their home first, and secure methods for energy conversion so that they could do what he wanted them to do. And for spare parts, no place other than this yet existed. "HEED!, you CROWING AUTOMATONS", he greeted the animatronics still standing guard, "For VOTH once again STALKS these halls!" He cast a glowering gaze at the machinery. "And he will TOLERATE no OBSTRUCTION." With that, he breezed past with an imperious stride. OOC: Action 1: ORDER +3 to sort scrap for the stuff I need for my Mooring Temple Action 2: LIGHT +2 to shed light onto the Scrapball to uncover its mysteries
|
|
#
?
Jul 17, 2018 15:00
|
|
|
Turn 4 - Trash Plus Trash Equals Trash Flavored Trash! Siderous (5/10H), Ivadora (5/10H), and VOTH (2/10H) - The Heart of the Scrapball Sometimes there are lights strung up for you. Siderous can run his fingers across the wires, they carry light across them and connect passages. Street signs, fossilized lunch boxes, and ever-present country music from busted radios - sometimes with little taped notes from Maja. “This way, if you’re Marvak, to the B0N3 Z0N3. Tin-Can can sit on a can while I get her off the can.” The can is still there. Still has a dent in it. Onwards, across the fallen boom arm of a half broken bucket-excavator yawing over a trash chasm. Hello Darkness rants at VOTH the whole time. “I don’t understand why you wanna throw me away like that! Ain’t you supposed to be the good guy? Defendin’ lil’ ol’ me against that grouchy monster?” He snaps some live wires in your path, still ranting with jaw clenched, smoking belching. “Nothin’ makin’ sense an’more, not to lil Darkness.” He only stops when you reach the heart, made of bulging fish-eyed trucks and a rotten RV right now, and right beside it Majakazumi’s private quarters. Still an awful mess, the country music is even louder. You can smell eggs cooking, somehow just on the edge of being done. Pieces of toast just frozen, popping from her toaster. (which hangs down from the roof, clearly not safe VOTH notes) and just a few feet away in her workshop - Majakazumi herself. Frozen in time somehow. They can still feel her, life pulsing slowly. In front of her sits the convertor VOTH needs. He grabs it. Under is a note. “You owe me one, tin-man. You’ll even the score by checking the toaster.” In it is a piece of toast with an oddly specific toasting pattern, almost like a memory access code for a hard drive. Whatever hard drive it’s for is not in her residence, clearly. Hello Darkness darts past all the drama, straight for the heart. His mouth opens a dozen screwdrivers and saws tear through a few wires. “There, that should do it!” It takes Siderous a little longer to find what he’s looking for you. A journal, under her bed. It pulses with sorrow, regret, the sense of the unshared sunset, if only someone special were there...just then, then maybe. Maybe it’d be something to remember. Instead, there’s only a long sigh. He takes it, reads it. When he finishes, there are tears in his eyes. It will be perfect. Ivadora has already left, scrambling back to the surface. Next to Majakazumi’s old shop she begins building, from deckplates and orrery scrap, it begins to form a… workshop? The outer shell, at least. Hello Darkness drags up a lathe himself and starts working on it. They’re the first to hear the screaming, the crying, the wailing. Distant at first, Ivadora takes it for a trick of her mind. Then louder. Ivadora can hear something pop in her ears. Hello Darkness takes his tentacles out of the lathe and sneaks out, past a ruined animatronic dummy - trapped with a rictus grin. Across a field of cars and trucks he sees them, chewing on sparking wires - men and women and every kind of gender identity tearing into reality, stealing the energy of this place and shoving in their mouths with extra arms. Mourners. As they eat black eggs roll off their bodies, and they hatch into new Mourners, they begin chewing all the same. OOC: Critical Success! Siderous finds his Symbol of Profound Regret, VOTH gets his energy converter, and together you’ve turned this into a Sacred Place. Your bonus opportunity is a quest from Majakazumi. Somewhere in the Scrapball there’s a hard drive hidden with directions on it. For what, you’re not sure. The Scrapball has also become a Sacred Place. It provides Trash, Forgetfulness, and Jury-Rigging. The Clock for Ivadora’s temple is at 2/4. Mourners have attacked the Scrapball while you’re inside, lowering its Mooring. Siderous is now at 5 Hubris. -------------- Fa - Dream Theater The spirits move through a million plays, musicals, concerts. They sing silently, but you can hear. You hear so loud. The theater is perfect - curved plates of the Microcosm carry their silence to the farthest geists, clutching to corners and staring out like scared children. As she listens, she begins to weave. Her fingers remember the technique of one of her sisters, older. Goddess of inspired textcraft, Fa cannot remember her name at the moment. Threads of emotion, like the illusion of mortal life, fit together. It is not the real thing, but it might fool the universe long enough to make things a little more stable. It clutches to the space around Omixil, and spills into the Microcosm’s corner of the galaxy. Reality twitches under the weight, part of it knows, in its heart. But it doesn’t want to believe. It wishes for life just as much as you, so it will listen to the lie. You listen with it, until you can feel something your feet. Far away, something cracks, and you can feel divine energy building in the air. The smell of cordite and ash. OOC: Your blanket will temporarily (for two turns) raise the Mooring of Omixil and the Microcosm by 1. Your Theatre of Dreams is finished now, and provides you with either a point of regret or a bonus to Passion. Your choice. -------------- Cat (6/10H) - An Ancient Castle; A Looted Horde It’s strangely cold inside, to be fair space is technically colder, as Owl would have said. But here, you feel it. It settles in your soul. You jump between catwalks (they are made for you, afterall) hanging from the castle like compound fractures, and sneak inside. Below you are cauldrons, now full of dust, once flesh. Rows and rows of dried up potions, crumbling shelves, and empty boxes. Then armories, all with the same seal - a triple headed eagle, a blade in both talons. Wasn’t that the sign of someone Owl told him about once? The Impressive Lady? No, it was Imperial. No one is as impressive as him. The armories lead deeper, far deeper. Through twisting passages of dessicated meat. It must have been a very long time since anyone walked in here, judging by the dust. He gets lost in the tunnels for a while, and almost hears...a voice? Is that a woman’s voice? Farther down. There’s swearing, then an explosion. Silence again. He follows the sound into a grand hallway - with a hole in it leading back outside now. Murals on the side depict old gods doing old god things, boring stuff, but probably important for making Cat’s throne. “We Made Ourselves Five We Turned Ourselves Right…” The rest has worn away, but there’s something funny about one of the figures in the drawings. A pot shifts, and that catches Cat’s attention. A dripping sound. Ambrosia is dripping from a mural behind a great throne - depicting a battle with some sort of blackened serpent. “I LOVED YOU” is scrawled across it. OOC: Someone beat you here, but you still managed to find enough Ambrosia to give everyone One Ambrosia. You also get to say something regarding the appearance of a deity from the Age of Creation. -------------- Trespasser - Deep inside the Temple of Prism The androgynous being is still present, and markedly different from before. Their ginger hair is slicked back, what little skin was on their face has shifted around to fill gaps, and they have either found or constructed a set of black robes with a neck cowl.  They take quickly to your basic number instruction. “Krucks, iminthul, regoma, thphis, voro, alshke,” the being responds in monotone. The last sound is one you heard in your last encounter. It has a questioning tone. They raise a hand out of their sleeve - which you notice this time has six long, bony fingers - and count again while tapping each one. As your knowledge of each other’s language builds, you are a little surprised to see how little they seem to be satisfied from it. They are succeeding in both understanding and teaching, but show no happiness for it. The tone is curious, sometimes nervous, but they rarely stray from a straight crease for an expression. Only when you jump to the questions of physics do they appear interested. They pat around their robes looking for some pocket. When they find it, they toss out six perfect triangles of two colors - seeming to be made of materials from the Temple - that fall into an equidistant and perfectly angled configuration.  “Alshke,” they say, pointing to themselves with their thumb while also pointing to the triangle configuration with their second pinky finger of the same hand. Then, pointing all six fingertips towards the triangles, small threads of light protrude out of the tips and attach to different triangles. They pull in their respective directions, three going up, three going down, to contract the shape’s hole and widen its area. OOC: A clock for rudimentary understanding of their language is 5/6 complete. There is a second clock for complex conversations involving more than “I am”, “it is” sentences. -------------- Everyone The wailing of the mourners is heard throughout explored space. Sometimes stronger, sometimes weaker. Besides the Scrapball, they can now be felt on Keeling, deep within the water. Miles of ocean depth do not muffle their voices, nor the sound of their eating. Near Omixil, an asteroid whose presence was not mapped by the Orrery slams into the ground, pushing the land upward and outward for a hundred miles. New debris joins the stable orbits of the spinning city, along with something else - a divine presence which seems to be exerting a lot of power into making itself noticeable, like a beacon. Something or someone has entered the shattered city.  OOC: A Mourner attack at Keeling is decreasing the Mooring and may spiral outwards if not kept in check. And something is happening at Omixil that requires immediate investigation. This will be a short (2-3 hour max) livescene for two players. Thanks to NineIronSwingersClub for writing Trespasser, and the Everyone section, in addition to her multimedia finding and mapmaking.
|
|
#
?
Jul 18, 2018 02:22
|
|
|
Cat Cat had no idea what this battle against a serpent was, or who might have left this strange scrawled message upon this mural. He gazed upon it, his divine senses easily piercing through the gloom and dust that had accumulated on this room. The snake was clearly facing down multiple entities, but only one remained visible - a massive griffinfly that towered over the mural's landscape, shadowing entire mountain ranges in its wingspan. What remained was remarkably intact - almost miraculously so. Which made sense, considering it was obviously a godly image created by a god. But while that might be all a mortal saw, a god's eyes could see much closer, and he noticed that the massive insect was in fact made up of swarms upon swarms of smaller bugs. Well, 'smaller' being relative - if this mural's scale was anything close to accurate, each mosquito that made up the god's body would be the size of a rhinoceros, each centipede like a good-sized river. And while even a god's eye might stop there, Cat was admired (not just by himself!) for having keen senses even among other divinities. Each of those smaller bugs was made up of swarms of even smaller bugs. At that point, either Cat's senses or the artist's ability to capture detail reached their limit, and he wondered if there were only three levels of recursion to this god, or if it was, perhaps, bugs all the way down... Eventually, though, his inspection was interrupted by keening cries coming from Keeling. It was Mourners, perhaps desiring to change the 'l' in the planet to an 'n'. And Cat was a working animal who had Responsibilities, so he snapped up the remaining ambrosia and headed for Keeling. Cat didn't much care for water, but he liked the end of local reality even less; he dove in without hesitation, whirling like a dervish through each cluster of the corrupt souls he could find. Alas, when he arrived on the water planet, he found Trespasser already there, tearing the little pests apart. He yowled a bit at being denied his rightful prey, but in truth he didn't really want to get wet. And he heard more cries coming from the strange scrapball that had just showed up. With a flicker of divine will, Cat vanished from Keeling and reappeared on the surface of Majakazumi’s Magical Scrapball. It was all trashy, but if Cat got greasy he knew he could dive into a star to clean up. Crouching into a hunter's pose, he went to work. Cat's methods seemed cruel, but they were arguably effective. He'd slash off their two sets of arms with a powerful swipe from each of his fore paws, and then, when they were off balance, he lunged in with his teeth. Most he simply destroyed, tearing off what looked like their heads in a single bite, and watching them disperse. Some, though, he played with, the way his namesakes played with mice. Once their limbs were gone, they were rather helpless, so Cat experimented, tearing off bits of them to see what they could survive and what they couldn't, what parts of them they needed to feed, and the particular ways they faded when they were destroyed. And once they were gone, if he had time, Cat would go wander around. Trash attracted vermin, after all, but also he could probably rummage up something interesting in here somewhere! **** Action 1: Using Prowess to take care of the Keeling Mourner infestation! Action 2: If Action 1 succeeds, using Cat to scout out the scrapball, looking for shinies or interesting baubles.. If Action 1 fails, I will use Cat to push out the Mourners once again, Pushing for an extra die! Wound Clock: 1/3 Green Bean fucked around with this message at 23:48 on Jul 20, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jul 18, 2018 03:21
|
|
|
 Fa - Omixil She lies back, indulging in her creation, letting the salvaged wraiths drift through the odeon, over the seats, over her skin, and back into the machine. A little ambrosia would complete the experience, but she’s dry and has to suffer the moment divinely lucid - or lucid as she ever is, anyway. More of your scene, Te. But this whole thing is Em’s vibe. The pieces inside her that had been Te, that had been Em, they hum and resonate. Maybe they concur. The sensation makes her nauseous, and she regrets thinking of her sisters immediately. She sits up, rubbing her eyes, Mercy. When I really need a distraction, someone went and destroyed the whole loving universe, and now there’s nothing to distract m- On cue, an impact rocks Omixil, her head snapping toward the source, senses piercing through stone and rubble and distance. She hops up from her seat, “I’d call that luck, but I think it’s called ‘providence’, on account of the divinity.” The parts that were Un concur. She reaches down and pulls a bright yellow hard hat out of thin air, plopping it on her head unceremoniously. She shuffles out of the theater, steel-toed workboots manifesting on her bare feet. Fa whistles an ancient tune as she heads off at a leisurely pace, out to survey the damage. Will drop the point on Passions. Will investimigate Omixil’s impending trouble, then followup with actions, yeah?
|
|
#
?
Jul 18, 2018 10:46
|
|
|
RETCON - None of this happened
professor_curly fucked around with this message at 01:21 on Jul 20, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jul 18, 2018 23:37
|
|
|
Livescene 4: I'll be around a million years, let the party begin - Fa and Trespasser https://saroleplays420.wordpress.com/livescene-4-ill-be-around-a-million-years-let-the-party-begin/ --- Chrysie is making a run for the stars at the Edge. 9IronSwingersClub fucked around with this message at 23:27 on Jul 19, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jul 19, 2018 22:38
|
|
|
The Trespaser The Trespasser sighed. The time for ruminations on the encounter was over, at least for now. It was high time to return to the immediate priority. Namely, the one place that has evaded their unsatiable curiosity so far. The Keeling Mountain. Its untiring abyss, unceasing streams and the single majestic summit that just happened to raise itself. This world has died, and the Trespasser had to know what has been born in its place. The answers clearly lied within, far from the prying eyes of lesser godlings. Truth be told, he couldn't blame them for being oblivious to this mystery - the crushing depths of the endless oceans and grimy, rocky undersides of mountains were no places for gods to just stroll casually. But that had just made them so more exciting. --- During their journey, the Trespasser fell prey to a distraction - that of the mourners, as the beings soon became known. Clearly the result of curdling souls left out of the metaphorical fridge. Yet, far more interesting than the useless, dissipating goop the god expected them to become. Not quite what one would consider monsters, nor even life, really... But some crude form of existence nevertheless, dangling right on the thin border of animate and inanimate. Perhaps, in these most unusual circumstances they have not as much decayed as fermented? Well, there was only one way to find out. --- Action 1: Using Rebirth 2, I harvest the Keeling Mountain mourners like escaped livestock they are, perhaps even less concerned with waste than with the first batch of souls. Just like with fermented alcohol or mouldy cheese, the results could be either really interesting or really toxic, but they sure will be interesting. Mistakes can always be discarded, after all. Action 2: I invoke the Key 2 to embark on a journey to the center of the Also please at last tell me at last what would it take to temple up the Ruins out here. Lichtenstein fucked around with this message at 10:53 on Jul 23, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jul 20, 2018 14:38
|
|
|
VOTH - The Edge of All Things Hubris: 4 VOTH shifted through the scrapball, looking for usable parts and evidence, for the most part ignoring the yapping lesser divinity at his feet. Eventually, though, he did reply. "HEED, you SLITHERING wretch. You are treated as TRASH, for that is what you CHOOSE to be." "By your OWN deeds have you EARNED this. Fix your DEEDS, and fix your TREATMENT." A prime opportunity for a lecture. Alas, a keening from afar brought a warning of far more pressing matters. Without wasting a second more, VOTH departed for the Edge. ~~~~~~ VOTH did not really know who or what the assailant was, merely that a divinity proficient in explosions was fast approaching, with omnicidal intent. No matter, he would stop them regardless of their nature. VOTH floated alone in the void in perfect silence as he had in the Seat of Serenity, flanked on all sides by Pillars in perfect stacking rows, reaching far farther than one could perceive. In front of him, a gravity well centered on nothingness, maintained by divine power. Should the one trapped within try to push the pillars that were to fall down on them and pin them away, the pillars would merely immediately fall back on them with the very momentum they themselves had given them. A fitting prison for one such as their threat, a fitting punishment too. VOTH closed his eyes. Let them come. He was ready to mete out justice. All there was left now was to wait. OOC: Action 1: ORDER +3 to make a Pillar-Gravity well trap to keep Chrys pinned, Hubrising that up to 4 due to there being a lot of pillars Action 2: VOTH will meditate whilst waiting
|
|
#
?
Jul 20, 2018 15:59
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 19, 2024 11:03 |
|
|
Siderous The Star-Heart, Scrapball Siderous is done. He can barely move anymore. There is nothing in his mind but regrets, some his own and others not. The weight of his failures falls upon him suddenly. All the stars that he couldn't save. All the people lost to this madness. Dimly he is aware of a horde of tiny, irreverent things moving to attack the scrapball. He just wants to stay still, the grief weighing down on him heavier than any physical burden. His divine form is wracked with pain. He is unsure of time - his injuries make time seem so immaterial. A moment stretching to infinity - as though he were falling faster, forever faster. A roar in his senses as it feels like reality recedes from him in every direction. He wants it all to just go away. He takes a shuddering breath, in preparation to unleash a wave of frustration upon these creatures, these walking reminders of his failure, to make them disappear. But then a divine warning - someone, another god. Another survivor. This one heading straight to the Orrery to steal the stars there. The stars that he had given part of his own essence to save. That he had worked so hard to save. The stars he had arranged in their orbits to power the divine hospital that kept Vela's condition stable. That currently housed his child, also recovering from injuries. To watch them explode. They were going to steal stars, to make them explode. So they could watch. He should have been angry. He should have visited upon them wrath unlike the universe had seen in twenty stellar generations. Encase her in a pair of magnetars. Tear her apart with a black hole. Demonstrate the ultimate sanction of the Court of Constellations. But he can't. He just can't. He is done. ------------------------------------------- Space Outside the Orrery ------------------------------------------- As Chrys flies through space, she passes a strange, vaguely humanoid cloud that seems to look at her as she goes for her prize. Not so strange in this time though. That is until she passes the same cloudman, who waves. After the third time, perhaps she stops. She threatens. Demands. "So, let me start by saying, I am over four hundred billion years old. My best and/or only friend is slowly dying and I don't know how to save her, and my children-child is in a hospital bed right next to her. I have nearly killed myself in an attempt to keep this universe from completely falling apart, and although there are a few of us to split the weight, it feels like the whole universe is still right there on my shoulders. Let's add onto that the universe seems completely intent on reminding me, over, and over, and over again about all my failures, and I do hope you understand that threatening me won't get you anywhere. I have stopped caring. You can try to kill me if you want. Maybe it will help. Maybe it won't." Perhaps she tries to flee again. She ends up, once again, where she started. "That won't work. Gravity in this place has wrapped space and time around us, so the local curvature has become positive. In effect we are in a spherical manifold, or more plainly, no matter where you go you'll always end up right back here. Now I can see you're upset. I must remind you, that I am very much beyond caring right now. So we're going to deal with the fact you are currently heading to my new home to kill my friends and family." From the quantum foam a massive topological defect in spacetime appears, taking the shape of a celestial chair. Siderous immediately turns that chair backwards and sits in it, looking over the back at Chrys, "So sit down, you and I are gonna rap here for a hot second." "See, the irony here is that if you had happened along in, I dunno, a week? This wouldn't even be a conversation. You want to blow up stars? Child, we a have a universe to rebuild, where do you think those materials were going to come from? The trick is stars require raw materials. And I have nearly driven myself mad trying to find this loving book of horrors and woe that loving city required to in order to get that process started, so now that I hear a hasty little poo poo is trying to murder everyone I know and also all of reality understand that maybe I'm not in the best head space right now." "Let me say, I can see what you are. What you can do. You could help us rebuild this universe. You could have a hand in reshaping reality. We are all truly gods now. We can reforge creation in our image, to our whims. Maybe that doesn't interest you. Maybe you just want explosions. But let me just say, the paltry few stars you could steal now are nothing compared to what I have planned. There is an infinity out there, empty and formless. I would see it glow with light and life again - and you could be the Death of Stars, the reaper of suns. Oh child, I can see the destructive impulses inside you. They burn you, as they used to burn me. A raging inferno that consumes until there is nothing left. But I'll make you a deal. I have seen things, things that you could scarcely imagine. I have seen the roiling of a star too large to exist, an explosion that happens again, and again until there is nothing left. I have seen chains of supernova at the edge of what was, a wave of force that reshaped reality. I have seen what happens when two magnetars collide." The cloud of gas begins to become more distinct, eyes appearing dull and red, almost bloodshot. The whole mass seems to whirble and convulse in small, strange ways. The clouds of the nebula churn, reflecting outward the inner turmoil that echoes through his being. Although his next words are spoken with honesty and without guile or hostility, it is clear that he is also on the brink of some sort of divine break. "I could show you." Action 1: Siderous is officially done. His will to do things is gone. So he's gonna go have a sit for a while and he's going to attempt to use Gravity +2 and Push for an extra dice to create a Closed Spacelike Curve - a region of space turned in on itself so no matter what direct you look or where you go you always end up back where you start. Action 2: I'm gonna realtalk with Chrys using Insight +2 and he will also be Pushing on this roll as well. Corhort Action: Starkin will use the Hospital to heal themselves. The Starkin and Vela certainly heard the gravity waves from that once they travel far enough. Hubris: 9 = 5 + 2 + 2 ---5 (Previous Meditation) +2 (Grief - Gravity) +2 (Rap Talk Real Talk) Injuries [X] [ ] [ ] [ ] ---Level 2 Liver Injury (Immaculate Designer) ---Level 2 Lung Injury (Immaculate Designer) Starkin Injuries [] [] [ ] [ ] Items/Artifacts ---Ambrosia [1] ---The Cosmic Lasso: Assists in moving objects across great distances in non-combat situations. ---Divina Hospitium [Used]: User can spend 1 action to reduce their injuries by one level. It must recharge for a full turn before it can be used again. If a PC doesn't take an injury during a turn they get 1 segment of their healing clock filled from hereon out. professor_curly fucked around with this message at 15:39 on Jul 21, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jul 21, 2018 06:01
|
|