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Let's be a godde: 1d100 89 Materials Pepper Haunted Houses Beer Slime paper bag with a face fucked around with this message at 03:18 on Mar 14, 2019 |
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Mar 14, 2019 03:13
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Name: Farrow, Chosen of Change Species: Ohmian Traits: Advanced Gaussery: "I remain charged, but the spark is gone." Basic Polarization: "The Magnate art of thoughtcraft, of making your ideas take hold in others and becoming unassailable. I am pleased to see their teachings transfer to fleshling speech." Basic Murder: "Ever since the experiment, I've been seized by urges. I could resist them, easily, but why would I?" Description: A primitive experiment into the nature of soulenoids, the seat of Ohmian thought, went horribly wrong. Farrow now has Reversed Polarity. He is Disconnected, Violent, and Incurious. He eschews the acetic nature of his people, choosing to dress in extravagant clothes with an equally large and ostentatious hat. The Gausserer enjoys the blessed silence his condition brings, but has lost all passion for his once beloved art. There is only ambition now. Keen observers will notice that the red and blue trim of his body is reversed compared to other Ohmians. He also has a vaguely sinister long, but thin beard made out of metal filings stuck to his face. 
paper bag with a face fucked around with this message at 01:54 on Mar 16, 2019 |
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Mar 16, 2019 01:11
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  Farrow tried the vocal exercise again. Blast, still much too harsh. The flesh creatures liked *soft* voices, resonant ones. And the Senior Gausserer was starting to get the hang of intonation. Apparently the occasional rising tone in voice at the end of sentences indicated a question. Preposterous, but efficient in its own way, Farrow supposed. At least he felt confident in his actual grasp of the language. Like all members of the Biot-Savant, promising Gausserers were sometimes selected by the Magnates to receive training in Polarization, the art of thoughtcraft, to more efficiently communicate their discoveries and insights with others. Farrow found the teachings transferred over well to the Common Cant. The words were abstractions representing specific, smaller ideas and the grammar was like a steady current, ensuring they flowed smoothly into a larger whole. All of this was incredibly Annoying, but a small price to pay for precious precious Quiet. Nothing pleased Farrow more than the newfound silence. He had gone a week in his quarters without so much as an errant, inane thought from random passerby invading. His thoughts uninterrupted, his and ONLY his. Blissful as it was, it couldn't last much longer. He had lied to the others at the Biot-Savant, told them the experiment had only "deafened" him and that all he needed was some rest. According to his last well-wisher, the Supreme Gausserer was planning on paying him a visit soon. The thought filled Farrow with terror. She was sensitive. She would know. She was the only reason Farrow hadn't killed his apprentice, a witness, the second he stepped out of the protective cage. Even though they were deep in The Rarefied Earth, Farrow had no doubt that she would be able to *feel* even the weakest [#COIL-HEAVEN-SPLITTING-DISCHARGE] from far, far away. She would feel it and there would have to be an Accounting. No, no, no, a meeting with her would have to be avoided at all costs. Fortunately, the Biot-Savant were in the process organizing a group to study abroad in distant Libraria. It would be a good idea to be away from the mountains for a while. Plus, while the destination did not interest him as much as it should've, the journey looked to be enjoyable. The trek across the Pepper Plains would likely have some lively fun to partake in, and wasn't the ocean supposed to have pirates? An unnatural hunger churned in Farrow at the thought of an attack at sea. Oh, yes. Pirates. That would be glorious. Guide the Ohmite pilgrims, sweettalk the bookkeepers to let them in: 1d20 18 MOST GLORIOUS! And Farrow would have to butter up some Encyclopi when they got there. Whatever. paper bag with a face fucked around with this message at 04:48 on Mar 20, 2019 |
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Mar 20, 2019 04:44
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4/4 Advanced Gaussery, Advanced Polarization, Basic Murder His lessons on Polarization had paid off. The fleshlings had an unfortunate tendency of staring at his mouth and not his eyes, but there was little Farrow could do about that. The ride over to their new colony had proven agonizingly uneventful, and the pitying looks the other Biot-Savant members occasionally gave him were starting to become irritating. Why would they pity someone who had everything he wanted? Farrow could only imagine the gossip that was bouncing around the collective gestalt. At more than one point during the trip, the senior gausserer had to excuse himself and go down to the holds to grind his teeth. If only they were more like him. Hmm. The construction of the colony, New Faraday, proceeded smoothly; Farrow's mastery of levitation greatly sped up the building. Getting the archive compliant with the Encyclopi's ridiculous standards proved to be a bit more work, but nothing the Ohmian scholars couldn't handle. With the din of construction gone, there was only the quiet of study and contemplation. One of the few admirable things about the Magnates' teachings, the Right Hand Path, in Farrow's opinion. While Farrow could no longer force himself through any books on theory, to his delight he noticed that books on practical matters were MUCH more to his interest. He devoured books on charm, oratory, and fashion. The tomes on politics and philosophy were surprisingly fascinating as well! Farrow's mind swarmed with ideas, his and his alone. What if he were to recreate the Experiment with others? Much too unpredictable. What if he were to- A knock on the door to his quarters interrupted his train of thought. Most of his fellow Ohmians avoided him now, but Farrow had someone listening for opportunities. Opportunities to cement the colony's position. Opportunities to secure more books for New Faraday from the Encyclopi's byzantine intra-library loan system. But most importantly, opportunities to make Farrow look good! After hearing what the lass had to say, Farrow immediately took the next boat out. quote:What is one particular area or place you would like to visit? Farrow meditated on an outcropping overlooking The Paper Wastes, a desolate section of the largest of the Dewey Islands, giddy with excitement. He was hunting a Great Bookworm, a fierce beast said to be able to devour entire libraries in a single gulp. According to the Encyclopi authorities, this one was growing big and restless enough to start moving towards civilization, if its tremors were anything to go by. Apparently they didn't have the manpower to deal with it themselves, and were surprised when Farrow claimed he could do it by himself. Hmph, clearly they had never seen (or felt) a Gausserer in action. Farrow chanted the ancient Codes of Authorization, his Grimoiarm hummed to life. The Gausserer did a warmup, passing his internal energy through all one hundred of its internal coils. Wait, that wasn't right. Too easy. Much too easy. His previous best was only 87. The High Gausserer could power the previously unheard of number of 93. Yet there he was, capable of a godlike total of 97. How wonderful! He released the frightened couple of cowyenne he had acquired as bait. The cattle landed messily on the scattered pages that made up the Waste. There was an earthquake-like rumbling and the hum of a Grimoiarm powering up. This was gonna be good. Exterminate a Great Bookworm: 1d20 19
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Mar 28, 2019 23:33
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4/4 Expert Gaussery, Advanced Polarization, Basic Murder TheNabster posted:In addition you claim for yourself a trophy from the beast as both proof of your deed and reminder of your power, what form does it take?)[/i] Farrow put his free arm up to his eyes and squinted at the horizon. Blast. There was a reason Gausserers tried to avoid performing a Discharge skyward. No telling where the damned magspike ended up. The Gausserer turned back around to oversee his guides, who were loading what was left of the Book...Worm? Wyrm? Its head was being loaded into a cart. What a wonderful trophy! Just the thought of it decorating his home for all to see filled Farrow with glee. And it was practical too! According to a book Farrow read as part of his preparations, the wyrm/worm (drat the Encyclopi and their so-called homophones) had a gland in the roof of its mouth that secreted a powerful, Pepper-based acid, theorized to help it tunnel through tough lodestone and railium deposits. On top of that, it apparently decomposed rapidly in open air, leaving few to no traces. Farrow's mind raced with the possibilities before eventually settling back into mentally repeating his 'battle' against the dread beast. He slowly licked his chassis, momentarily lost in reverie. When Farrow made it back to New Faraday in triumph, he noticed the usual pity from his fellow Ohmians was replaced with (sometimes reluctant, but nevertheless sincere) praise. Farrow slept like a baby that night. - - - Farrow sat at his writing desk, attempting to magnetically swirl his ink pot. The Blood inside was still much too weak. He sprinkled some lodestone powder and gave it another test. He repeated the process a few more times, adding small pinches of powder, so as not to ruin the consistency or distinctive color. He had finally settled on how best to make more of Him while also reining in his more...problematic tendencies. The answer was staring him in the face the whole time; philosophy! The Magnates exerted control over the Ohmian People with their Right Hand Path, what was stopping him from doing the same? Finally satisfied with his ink, he smeared some on his test sheet of paper. He slowly and carefully repulsed the magnetic ink across the paper, drawing the Ohmian symbol for tranquility in one clean, continuous stroke. Even before the Experiment, Farrow's calligraphy was the envy of the Biot-Savant faculty. The inverted Gausserer felt contentment at the fact he could still find joy in something so simple; it was even better now that all was nice and quiet. Today was shaping up to be a good d- Oh bother, who was at the door this time? Farrow hastily applied his beard, a collection of lodestone shavings, to his face and went to go answer the door. "Can you not read?", he indignantly asked as he opened it, "The sign says 'By appointment o-'" At the sight of his visitors, a Paladindex and what he assumed was some kind of apprentice, Farrow changed conversational gears instantly, "Ah, my apologies. I was not expecting a visit from our gracious hosts today. I do not believe we've had the pleasure of meeting, I am Gausserer Farrow of Heaviside. How may I be of assistance?" paper bag with a face fucked around with this message at 01:03 on Apr 12, 2019 |
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Apr 12, 2019 00:57
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4/4 Expert Gaussery, Advanced Polarization, Basic Murder Something was off about these two. Farrow decided to hear them out for now, lavishing in the praise the strange visitors were giving him. Swedish Thaumocracy posted:‽ Sara exclaimed as the Gausserer opened the door, revealing to her the majesty of his Constructed form. She had barely been speaking for a minute and already Farrow was imagining tearing her apart, page by ink soaked page. Apparently whoever trained the Encyclopi Scholars didn't bother with basic communication skills like the Biot-Savant did. And why was she doing that pink-face-thing? Ohmians in general were no stranger to body language, but their lack of skin made interpreting this one particularly difficult. Farrow thought back over some of his reading and concluded this must be what they called a 'blush'. He wasn't sure why though. She didn't seem especially embarrassed (though she should've been, in Farrow's opinion) or angry. By process of elimination, that left only one option. Hmm. Odd. Fleshlings usually didn't see Ohmians that way. When she finished, Farrow replied with a note of confusion in his voice, "I am sorry, I am not certain I understand, my dear, not completely. Slaying the beast was trivial for a Gausserer of my Potential, it had no recourse against someone attacking from range and it was not nearly as clever as the stories portray them. Oh, and I don't mean to be rude, but could you stop staring at my mouth, please? My eyes are up here, same as everyone else." AJ_Impy posted:He bowed with a flourish as Sara introduced him, his one eye roving everywhere as he took in the Ohmian and his dwelling. He spoke earnestly and enthusiastically, almost wistfully as he described the scale of the task. The Gausserer found the big one much more agreeable. Intimidating too. He didn't say he killed it, per se, but if the Columbatants were to be believed, just lasting more than a few minutes against one was a rare achievement. He pretended to give the Paladindex's offer a few moments to consider, but he had already made up his mind. The urges were starting to come back. And, even better, it was a legendary monster. If killing just a regular monster made him the talk of the region, imagine what a legendary one would do! "I will accept, on one condition. I have certain responsibilities to New Faraday here. If I am to do this, we must receive a cut of the spoils." Hunt the Lexiviathan and KILL it: 1d20 20 "Strange watch you've found. The hand moves, but I cannot *feel* any internals moving." paper bag with a face fucked around with this message at 00:29 on Apr 13, 2019 |
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Apr 13, 2019 00:18
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4/4 Expert Gaussery, Advanced Polarization, Basic Murder Well, this was an unexpected and somewhat unwelcome turn of events. On one hand, Farrow was quickly learning that with great power came great obligation. Though he didn't care a whit for this city or its inhabitants, he could hardly slip away in the chaos. Not with the two strange Encyclopi watching. Especially not with the other Ohmians watching, imperceptibly judging. And what would the beast do after it was done here? Head for The Pole? Unacceptable, utterly unacceptable. Farrow had *plans* for The Pole. On the other hand, Farrow mused as he lifted one of the Pepper beasts into the air and spiked it back down with a wave of repulsive force, killing these things was delightfully fun. How they shrieked when smashed into walls, like music! What a lovely mess they made as they splattered! Farrow's hands were "tied" on the matter, and the Keynote fellow was correct. The longer the abomination was allowed to fester, the harder it would be to deal with. It had to die and it had to die *now*. Farrow made an approximation of a throat being cleared, "I am with you, Paladindex Keynote. Show me to an suitable vantage point. I will rain down the wrath of the heavens upon it!" The Columbatants posted:“We are but a few hands in this situation, we could aid in the evacuation of the civilians or we could possibly assist Mr Keynote and the defense effort, what are your intentions Master Farrow?” Farrow stroked his beard as he considered the optimal course of action. Wasteful to put them at the front. Some of the beasts, Farrow noticed in the course of his brutality, were filled with juices that popped and sizzled in open air and left etch marks in whatever surface they landed on. The senior Gausserer did have an idea, though. "If you've all been trained as Columbatants...", Farrow stated authoritatively, "Then you've all had your Potential tested, yes? Which of you had the highest and how much?" The scholars-turned-militia looked among themselves and silently deliberated. There was an awkward moment as they remembered Farrow couldn't hear them. The highest, Greig, had a surprising amount of Potential. The rest were decent to middling. It only took Farrow a few seconds to run some arcane calculations, they weren't Gausserers, but they'd have to do. "Greig, Berber, Fabin, and Pirrho, you're coming with me. Fetch the sealed jug from my tent and my brush. The rest of you, assist in the evacuation. Let no one say the Ohmians had hearts of stone this day." - - - The bluff was tall enough to make scaling difficult and had excellent lines of sight; they could clearly see the abomination pulsating in the distance. The four Columbatants dutifully stood watch as Farrow dipped his brush into the jug of ritually conductive paste and gracefully drew the sacred Gausserer's symbols. First came the repulsive wards, both to keep out any who would dare interrupt and to modulate the forces generated within. Then the circle he would stand in, followed by the runes of Capacitance. He connected all the constituent parts with thick, flowing lines, adding a few flourishes both for safety and to demonstrate the pride he had in his work. Ah, he hadn't drawn one this beautiful since the day of the Experiment.  "It is prepared.", a pleased Farrow crooned, "Tell me, have any of you participated in a Rite of Capacitance before?" The confused looks he received told him all he needed to know. Of course they hadn't. Time for a basic safety lecture then, despite Farrow's baser instincts. When Capacitor rites went wrong, they tended to govery wrong. "Right, so all of you will be standing on the Runes of Capacitance, across from each other, in parallel. Greig will be standing on the one marked with a one, Pirrho on the one with a two. Berber and Fabin, you may take the other two. When I begin to charge, you will feel a force drawing your Potential into the Circuit. You *will* relax and allow it to take what it requires, no more, no less, and no resisting it. If at any point you begin to feel pain or lightheadedness, you *will* notify me so I can disengage you and refactor the Circuit. Do not try to be a Hero and give more than you have. We stand more to lose than just your life. Am I perfectly clear?" The Columbatants solemnly nodded and took their places. Farrow stepped into the central circle and engaged it with a tap of his foot. Farrow removed a jagged magspike, designed to create great, bleeding wounds that did not heal easily, from his cape and loaded it into his Grimoiarm. He leveled the deadly sorcerous implement at the Atrocity in the distance and began passing his and his allies combined Potential into it, making sure to do it slowly enough for the others to ease into it. Not that he cared, but there was little margin for errors with Capacitors. "READY?" "READY!" "AIMED!" "[96-COIL-HEAVEN-SPLITTING-DISCHARGE]" A sound like thunder. "AGAIN!" The sound of the Grimoiarm repeatedly firing masked the maniac laughter coming from the center of the circle, but if anyone asked, Farrow would say it was his way of coping with the obviously enormous stress. At one point Farrow caught a glimpse of Keynote in the scrum. It would be so easy to snuff him out. But what was the point. The fool would kill himself easily enough. Commence Bombardment: 1d20+1 9 paper bag with a face fucked around with this message at 05:33 on Apr 30, 2019 |
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Apr 30, 2019 05:28
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Enchanted, Orbiting, Stones. Io
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May 16, 2019 01:12
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| # ¿ Apr 26, 2024 09:32 |
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So how does this mAke you feel?
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Jun 29, 2019 21:37
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