Register a SA Forums Account here!
JOINING THE SA FORUMS WILL REMOVE THIS BIG AD, THE ANNOYING UNDERLINED ADS, AND STUPID INTERSTITIAL ADS!!!

You can: log in, read the tech support FAQ, or request your lost password. This dumb message (and those ads) will appear on every screen until you register! Get rid of this crap by registering your own SA Forums Account and joining roughly 150,000 Goons, for the one-time price of $9.95! We charge money because it costs us money per month for bills, and since we don't believe in showing ads to our users, we try to make the money back through forum registrations.
 
  • Post
  • Reply
Randalor
Sep 4, 2011



Yeah, but we could say that we're just really good at singing. Which we know we are. The others are either too pretentious for our role at the Moot, or run the risk of us becoming "entertainment" for the Fae.

Adbot
ADBOT LOVES YOU

Black August
Sep 28, 2003

DREAMING: [ ~ ][ ~ ][ ~ ][ ~ ][ ~ ][60%]

??? posted:

"Aw. You really don't want to?"

You're fighting to keep your patience. You're being petty again. You're looking for a cutting remark again. You're not explaining the why to him because it takes you right back into the black, and you're not being honest by telling him you're just not comfortable doing it.

Your nails are biting into your palm. Your jaw is creaking with how hard you clench it. Your lungs, your world-class evervaunted lungs, seize and shrink and deny you air. Come on. Come the gently caress on. Stop. Stop being that bitter old monster. Stop flashing back to every injustice. Stop slamming your hand on the counter after every show and reaching for a bottle, reaching for a gun, reaching for a noose, reaching for the one- the one that would finally be End.

Stop. Stop going back. Stop feeling muscles ripping themselves apart microscopically with every violent tense. Every bone-grinding clench. You feel sick. It comes on so suddenly that you finally find a way to end the conversation - you tell him you gotta run to the bathroom.

"Oh! Take your time."

You can't look at his smile as you rush off. You can't, because you'll think it's fake and full of hate, and you'll start to let the night in your head speak. You can't. Not to him. Not now.

It's half an hour later and you're sitting in the stonework bathroom of the school, hiding in a corner where water and tropic plantlife breaks through the rock and decorates the stalls. You managed to not punch the stone so hard your hand breaks again. The Doctor wouldn't believe a lie the third time. You stew instead, shaking away the creeping voice that tells you, hey hey, sharp little knife, now now, slice the chords. You're not listening. You're breathing. In and out. Skin slowing from a crawl to a cold shiver.

Does it still make you happy when you do it? Yeah. But you want to keep it to yourself. You don't want to share it with the world anymore. You don't want to be the one who walks out onto stage, With A Smile Like The Sun.

...

...but Mom smiles so bright when you do it around her...

Maybe. Maybe maybe. The ratlings were here to trade, and everyone was going gonzo over what they wanted to do for entertainment, to impress the colony's first trading partners. Maybe. Maybe a private show. For a select few. You've never done it for lovely little rat people before. Maybe. Maybe maybe maybe. It isn't who you ARE anymore, after all. Maybe. Just once. Mom said, hey, everyone needs a hobby; you loved the sound of that. Not an identity. Just a facet. Just a sometimes. Just a for-fun.

You could be it again. Under the Sun.

You,

The Singer.

You write it down on the sheet presented by the sylvan, after you grab the crow mask and affix it with eager ease. The weight of the dream is comfortable on your mind, though its logic does make you think strangely. The Singer? Yeah. That was a nice medium kind of title to hide behind. Not too big, not too small; you're Just Some Crow in a cloak, here to herd cats.


The sylvan takes the sheet, her back still always to you. She pauses when she reads what you've written, long enough that you start to feel nervous... but after a tense second, she speaks again with the same softly professional tone.

"Esteemed ambassador, please, follow me to the elevator so you can begin the ascent of Euamur. I will meet you above to escort you all to your room, but in the meantime please enjoy the company of the Hierarchs, and all the accommodations we have to offer."

She steps aside to gesture at an elevator, with gemlit interior. You step inside with the cats (almost missing Chowder as she vibrate-meows so rapidly she nearly phases through the dock), and the doors close with a quiet chime before it starts a rapid climb. It hums pleasantly while it rises, moving through solid stone rich with a thousand veins of colorful minerals. You can SMELL how goddamn rich this place is, and you haven't even seen it yet. The cats swarm around each other, chittering and communicating with one another in anticipation of a nap and good meal. You stare at the elevator doors when you feel the car come to a stop, briefly confused as to why they don't open- but then you see the cats are leaving behind you. Turning, you put a hand up to cut the glare from a sudden flood of light you don't expect. There's a warm breeze and the scent of water and flowers.

You step out blinking, and catch yourself right before you walk right off a rocky cliff. You pull the mask off for a second to adjust, and then nearly fall again as you're taken aback by the immense view of it. Eaumur. The mount where the Great Ones once walked in resplendence. Forever summergreen, crowned with a thousand waterfalls going up and up and up and up and up and up and up and up and up and up and up and up and...




























...JEEZE.

Black August
Sep 28, 2003

[Well, it looks like it was time to do the Eaumur quest, as it just became active. Taking the pills from Pariah had been a good and bad choice. Good, because it was the best was to rapidly heal up from a dangerously low amount of HP. Bad, because the Dreamlands connection meant that there was a continual chance of falling directly into a dream. Thankfully, that didn't proc until after reaching the Hideout- spending a bullet on Salted-Earth was a good call along with the luck of having an invis potion. Since the Cat Card had been accepted, it meant that the next fall into a dream had a high chance of starting Ulthar's quest, which had happened first try.]

[Eaumur was no joke. Many onerunners saved the quest for midgame, since the chance for failure or a vicious derailment of early-game plans was high. Compounding that was how random the quest was. Which Fae showed up, what was on auction, how negotiations go, the random events that could come into rotation, the climax... doing it well early game, before Megalith, did have the benefit of giving the shot at a lot of resources and clout to fall back on for later. But it was at the mercy of RNG. The one upside is that Dreaming was based off of Will, and that was a resource in abundance. The first Dreaming check went well too.]

[The crow mask is a solid pick, especially with the Camp Champ synergy. If not for that, the hyena mask would have been interesting- it wasn't a mask mentioned in the list of typical choices. 'The Singer' was an interesting random-gen title too, what with the Moot being ABOUT the Singer of Cadanza. The game even hung for a second after selecting it.]

[It's exciting. The Eaumur Moot was something many onerunners looked forward to going through, whether it goes well or poorly. Seeing who comes up in the rotation was fun, and sometimes a REALLY broken item could be dumped into the auction pool.]

[While the game loads the enormous map, the Blue Book provides insight.]

The Blue Book posted:

"...handful of times on record. It's difficult to earn his respect, but if won over, he can teach rare techniques; Vorpal Fang is the most prized of them, followed..."

"...arguments over which cat is best, with most onerunner votes agreeing that the best one is..."

"...not possible to win as a Farmer, it got the furthest of any onerun but Śmiercią..."

"...do you remember? Do you remember? Do you remember the Island? I remember. I remember. I remember the Island..."

"...figured out what the 'Cistron Mk VII' key item does, except for the message it..."

"...time to get to the top, but it's worth the effort for a better scout of Burner's Land, as well as the chance to engage one of the Matriarchs in..."

"...Joy bonus. A SMALL one, but one that adds up, and all it takes is the patience to pick it up and carry it back to the Hideout. Kwiat loves to sit on top of it as it cleans and..."

"...of the highest risk-reward systems. Trash Demons are incredibly powerful, randomized in abilities, and infest every Trash Dimension road that..."

"...potions you really REALLY want are Celerity, Fire, Overdrive, Boosting, Joy, Gold, Luck, Invulnerability, Philosopher..."

"...Skinless Wolf is the most dangerous of the three, with regeneration even greater than the Beast (or a Moloch!), and enough HT to make every death roll up til..."

Vox Valentine
May 31, 2013

Solving all of life's problems through enhanced casting of Occam's Razor. Reward yourself with an imaginary chalice.

...we need to keep an eye out for a Roomba so Kwiat can ride it.

Princey
Mar 22, 2013
Trash Demons sound like Pan lords.

Now I'm excited to find out our random assortment of fae, items on auction, and bullshit to deal with!

Grond
Mar 31, 2016

quote:

"...Skinless Wolf is the most dangerous of the three, with regeneration even greater than the Beast (or a Moloch!), and enough HT to make every death roll up til..."

I'm guessing this refers to Pariah. It'd make sense, considering the Chirurgeon class was stated to be an HP brick wall. Good thing we didn't piss him off.

pumpinglemma
Apr 28, 2009

DD: Fondly regard abomination.

I feel like we’ve seen the name Vorpal Fang before - is it one of Pariah’s moves? Or Kaigen’s?

XkyRauh
Feb 15, 2005

Commander Keen is my hero.
If a vorpal sword goes snicker-snack, what sound does a vorpal fang make?

Mukaikubo
Mar 14, 2006

"You treat her like a lady... and she'll always bring you home."

XkyRauh posted:

If a vorpal sword goes snicker-snack, what sound does a vorpal fang make?

Champy-Chomp

Black August
Sep 28, 2003

...ah, poo poo! The cats are getting ahead of you!

Scurrying up the cliffside, you follow the Council and Kitten as they lead the treacherous way up the ascent of Eaumur. You allow yourself a little happiness in the beauty of the place; the bright Sunless sky, the abundance of dream-flora, the clean warm waters... though something in the back of your brain keeps nagging, insisting that this was wonderful, but not nearly as wonderful as-

-well, as what? As water that is a different color, maybe. As plants that are more brilliant with life, maybe. You shake the thought when you realize you're going to have to start climbing. The cats have no problem making their way up, considering they can jump to the Moon and back when needed, and they expect the same of you. But you have that skill; with a crack of your neck and hands, you start scaling the multi-hue stone face of the divine mountain.

(ST - Climbing) 14 - [3]+[6]+[3] = 12 - Success!

The Cat What Swims watches, floating inside of a cliff to make sure the kitten gets up safely. He peers at you as you scale the stone, and you sense approval at how well you've managed yourself so far. If there was one thing Ulthar prized above all else, it was independence, and you haven't disappointed.

Despite needing to climb miles and miles of stone, the logic of dreams makes it feel surmountable. It's dreaming-noon by the time you make it to the start of the enormous glass structures built into Euamur, clambering onto a triangular red-marble platform with gold railings. You're not actually sure if this is how you were supposed to get here, or if the cats just wanted to take a snuck-in backdoor. You wonder that because when you approach the balcony doors, you find them locked.

The cats are taking five, lounging in the warm light on the heated stone. You bend down and examine the lock, while the kitten climbs onto your back. You- hm. You don't know what you're doing, but your hands are moving anyways. Here in the Dreamlands, your psychic senses are quieter, drowned out by the roar of the magic in your biology, made mighty by the ambient Mana. It tickles your fingers as you paw the keyhole, and dream-logic sparks you to action.

Your mind wanders as you work...

The Boss posted:

...another week, another night at the Barspital, where you hung out with your weekly group for a night of pub food, drinks, and studying the lock. It was when you had time to get some space from Aitvaras, Mom, and the others, so you could be a little bit of someone else, someone new you wanted to explore. You sit in your usual booth with a glass of some cheap sangria-red made from the rejects of the New Cadanza harvest and local fruits, a number of locks spread out before you. It was a great time to just sit and be quiet, listening to your crew chat each other up and share the lowdown of what's going on around the colony. You were a part of that too- the Boss specifically has you do locksmithing around the town both to help you learn a trade, and to pass on anything interesting you saw or heard.

The Boss was across from you on his booster seat, sipping his usual glass of chilled bleach with blue mint. With him was the Thief, the Berserker, the Necromancer, and Wash. The Psychic wasn't there today, and neither was Nyx, but they sometimes came by to join. The Thief was acting his usual hoity-toity too-important self, mustard hood pulled up and bent over with conspiracy to share his latest spyings. The great conspiracy going around was that none other than the Singer of Cadanza was here, among the colonists, hiding in plain sight.

It didn't concern you too much. You were distracted, trying to bury yourself in the locks so you could ignore the ones in your head. It worked, really- after a night of hard study and pointers from the Thief and the Boss, you usually found clarity regarding other things that were troubling you. Not so much this time, as you struggle and fumble a simple lock for the third time, quickly pushing it aside before you lose your patience. Taking a first sip of your drink, you look over and catch the Berserker giving you a glance. You pretend you didn't see it, turning attention to the Boss. It was awkward with her right now. She... had a thing for you, and you're pretty sure a thing for Aitvaras as well. But she had some bad hangups over relationships from her last life, and poo poo, you were right there with her, which led to a confused fondness. You had to stop playing stupid and say something, but-

"A whole continent!"

The Thief slaps the table as the music rises, masking his conspiracy. "She sank an ENTIRE CONTINENT, and it's true as stone in the quarry. I nicked some files back in Anidus from the Black Guard and got a read. Out of nowhere, sunk, and she escaped to the Dreamlands to be the big showpiece of the Fae, and then ZOOSH. She's gone from the dream, and nobody knows where she's been since. And now she's here! I'm telling you, my intel is solid!"

The Necromancer and the Berserker still think he's full of poo poo. The Boss drums his claws, indicating that he didn't. He took it seriously. He knew something nobody else did, and you could tell. But you're still too caught up in your own head to really want to pay it mind. First, you have to open the lock. Right here. Easy easy. Just relax, slip in the pick, feel for it, and...



(DX - Lockpicking) 11 - [3]+[4]+[4] = 11 - Success!

You pick the lock. You use the red-tip chicken feather, slowly working the chamber... and when you think you're stuck, the kitten paws at the hole you're waving the feather in front of, and hooks her claw inside. There's a CLICK, and a drop in your stomach as the Mana reacts, and the door is unsealed. The Council cats immediately perk up from their nap, because a Door Is Open, and they're going to look inside.

Perfumed extravagance washes over you, your sight adjusting as quick as the cat's to the change of bright light to unlit interior. Looks like a strange bedroom. There's a lovely skylight, refracting the light from any point in the sky down onto smoothed curved stones. Fabrics of a hundred designs and colors hang from the ceiling, creating a strange ocean maze. There's a weird smooth pit with drains in the bottom... but it can't be a bath, because there's an adjacent bathroom with shower, and a VERY deep jacuzzi.

Wait. So. IS this your room? The cats are already sleeping on the heated rocks. The kitten is investigating the bathroom. Cornstarch is hovering through the silk sea, while Chips tears a bunch of them down. You set down your pack by the balcony and itch your head for a while, wondering if you should go find the sylvan who said she'd meet you above. Maybe you'd raid the drawers or like, look for soap to ste-

*click*

The door to the room is opened. The cats startle, jerking to turn their heads and stare where you can't clearly see through the fabric field. You're immediately on one knee with a drawn gun, iron sights aimed up and out. Something... something is moving behind the cloth. Making its way steadily towards the light of the open balcony. The tails of every cat goes up, their pupils knife-thin. It's a threat then? You slowly pad to the side, parallel to the advancing figure. You can make out white... still can't make out a clear profile, but all you have to do is juke them to the side, bend under a curtain, and you'd be right at their flank and be able to hold them up by-

"Well. You smell like nothing I've ever known."

YOU got the juke?!. How? The voice is directly above you, the figure having moved more silent than air; you roll to your back the gun aimed high ready t-

ttttttttttttttttooooooooooo-

ooooooooooo. Ooo. Oh that's- that's a- he's tall. Oh wow he's tall. He must be, what, is that what ten-foot looks like? Thereabouts? Oh, those are claws, with a sinister green sheen over their pearly black, as long as your torso. The teeth! So MANY! So sharpbright. Oh God. The claws are raised up, he's opened them wide, you gotta take the shot now annnNAAAUUGHGH KITTEN ON YOUR FACE.

"...ah! AH HAAAAH! It's you! You've all made it!"

His voice; thunder controlled and released one syllable at a time. The giant stands tall, the kitten climbing up his leg, now full in the light for you to see clear. He's HUGE. His head- is it a snake? Is it an alligator? A crocodile, a panther, a shark, a raptor? Serpentine for sure, albino in hue. The body... monstrous, hidden-wrapped in the finest white suit. The claws of those hands, moving with unreal grace despite the extreme of their curve. His slitted pupils are as thinned as the cats, who all gather up to swarm meowing about the feet of the reptilian giant, while you remain with gun aimed on the ground.



He pauses his delighted greeting, and looks down at you. His perpetual smile grows, with teeth of rows and rows and ROWS, as he squats to get a better look, making a point to leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeean in to almost press an eye up against the barrel of the gun.

"A fine piece. Steady hands! The smell of blood on them... and such a noble mask. You're the ambassador, then? Come, come and stand. No fault that you have to follow where the nobility of Ulthar goes. Even my private quarters!"

You. Hesitate. But, you slowly, slowly, with two cats walking on top of you, holster your gun and then allow yourself to take the offered pearlscale hand. It carefully closes around the entirety of your arm and lifts you to a stand. You smooth out your cloak, but not before the serpent supreme parts it open with the tip of a claw.

"A fine-tailor suit... an unusual style. I smell blood on its threads! You are an ambassador with taste."

You yank the cloak closed, and manage to stop your hand from scrambling back to your gun. He- ok, chill, he's complimenting you. You think. It feels like it? Dream logic is saving you from at least sixteen diplomatic incidents right now, and the relaxed nature of the cats allows you to drop from the feral and into the vaguest idea of, uh, a diplomat. Sure. You can dream that. Especially when someone like this guy is standing over you with that kind of smile. Alright. Time to test that out, since you broke into his room and he thankfully blames the cats. Right. Ok. So. Yeah.



(IQ - DIPLOMACY) ? - [5]+[2]+[1] = 8 - Succe- No Idea To Be Honest.

You- right. Right you DON'T draw your gun. Right! Diplomacy, easy easy. You stick out your hand, cordially. Hi. Yeah. You're The Singer. You're with the cats. You were looking for where the food is?

The giant blinks, and allows you to shake one of his clawtips. He pauses a beat, and announces himself. "I am Duke Sauber. I bit my way to the top- and I don't intend to stop."

You're awful glad you're dreaming. You tell him that you REALLY gotta get these cats to their proper room, sorry about the torn curtains, you-

"Ambassador! I insist! I can hear the demand for predation in your bellies. You're looking for where the food is, aren't you? Come with me to the dining halls. Join me with my sister sisters for lunch!"

He leans all the way in again, his voice reverberating through your neck.

"Won't you, Singer?"

Mukaikubo
Mar 14, 2006

"You treat her like a lady... and she'll always bring you home."
Terrible luck to have your first act as an ambassador be to turn down a formal request to dine together imo

Vox Valentine
May 31, 2013

Solving all of life's problems through enhanced casting of Occam's Razor. Reward yourself with an imaginary chalice.

Man I hope he's not a Gug.

King of Bleh
Mar 3, 2007

A kingdom of rats.
I feel like it should be up to the cats and not us to accept or decline.

Rubix Squid
Apr 17, 2014
The duke seems like a swell guy but its the cats' call. Of course they are cats so I doubt they'd say no to dinner.

Regallion
Nov 11, 2012

quote:

The Cat What Swims watches, floating inside of a cliff
who?

Rubix Squid
Apr 17, 2014
The Cat What Swims In The Ground, who is level 99.

Black August posted:

The eldest of the Council, who has been a part of it since its formation, is The Cat What Swims In The Ground. He sits with just his head bobbing above his pillow throne, gently wading through the fabric, colored a pale gold. The lean and languid cat is in charge of all things mystical, hiding the secrets of Cat Magic.

Regallion
Nov 11, 2012

Yeah but you are not allowed to abbreviate cat names, ever, for any reason.

Rubix Squid
Apr 17, 2014
Well you can try, though I don't recommend it.

Black August
Sep 28, 2003

VOTING CLOSED - Lounge Lizard Lunch

Join the Duke for lunch. - 25
Sorry, thanks, no, really sorry, I, I gotta go do a thing. - 1
[Say Nothing] - 7


LOADING...

...LOADING

Black August
Sep 28, 2003

You- you mean the cats, and you, you should really...

You stop and say nothing for a moment, as Duke Sauber remains leaned down and uncomfortably close.

You look at the cats. The cats look at YOU. What do you think you're here for, to sleep on warm rocks and take 20 hours naps? This was all you.

So, you tell the Duke, sure. Yeah. Lunch. He claps his hands together and lengthens his smile as he says his individual hellos and see-you-laters to all of the Council, paying especial mind to the kitten. "Lovelies! Esteemed apexes. Have use our quarters as long as you wish, as I will be with your ambassador for lunch. They will surely discover your room, and I will inform you when I return. All are invited at their own pace."



He sweeps open half the room's fabrics with one reaching motion, giving you a colored tunnel to walk through and reach the door. The Duke follows behind, leading you out into a red marble and gold inlay hall, lit with orange and spaced with dark mirrors. The kitten and Chips both decide to follow along, racing out of the room with incessant chatter. Sauber graciously keeps a low pace to allow you a slight lead, though he directs which halls to walk while he talks. You're really thankful for the mask.



"An exciting day, Singer. An incredible opportunity to meet the most powerful of the Dream! Not all took the call, but the ones who are paying attention, the ones who will matter, did. I anticipate the auction, and do hope there can be an agreement over financial rights and... ah. Do you smell, chicken?"

You respond a little too fast that NO, no of course you don't smell chicken. But then you do smell chicken. It smells really good! You admit that. But you're back on edge a little more after that.

DREAMING: [ ~ ][ ~ ][ ~ ][ ~ ][50%]

"Ahhhh! The kitchens are busy. We will eat well soon! Not as well as at my home I can assure you, but MCD never fails to appeal to their entire audience. You will meet them at the sideroom I have reserved - my sister, sister, sisters; Roma and Amora."

Ok. Um. You don't exactly do large social situations well, much less with terrifying and powerful people, but you're officially one mask on and in too deep to try to wake up from what the cats have landed on you. You know you'd be lying if you didn't think this was terribly exciting, and the one proof against true rejection was the dream soaking your logic, allowing anxiety little say. But it still speaks loud enough to prickle your skin at the idea of lunch with the Duke. It'd be speaking much louder, soon.

But, again. Two cats in, in too deep.


The long walk passes with dreamed brevity, and when you next turn a red red corridor you're blinded by a blade of late-afternoon skyfire. It comes from a door to a sphere of crystal suspended off the side Euamur, one half washed by waterfall of perfect stonecut flow, the other aimed towards the indescribable vista of the immense ocean distances below. The clouds are already shaded by the impossible colors of starlight as it filters in from above, leaving the entire room a well lit prism. Among the terrarium designs of one thousand bonsais there is a collective of tables, shaped from smoothed stones and thick silk pads. The duke leads the three of you down to it, and it's there you meet your company for the late lunch.

There's two... like... snake people. Half snake, half people. Sauber introduces them as they slither-turn around. "Ambassador of Ulthar! Meet them, my sister sisters. Roma, Amora."

Roma's serpentine is redscaled, shaded dragonfire and garnet. The humanoid half is clothed in swathes of witchworn gowns in the Shades Of Black, and through the hood is seen the serenity of her face; she has the eyes of one who has crossed over as their original self, through the paths of the Dream and back up into the remains. Amora is the match of her sister sister, but with scales more sapphire and ocean, though still adorned with the Shades Of Black. The same look. The clear signs of twins, one degree above the level of genetic sameself. They both smile and make greeting. It seems that the Duke needs no mask, and neither do these two.

"Hello, Ambassador.
Would you like to sit with our brother?
We're having a small meeting with some Agents and other Ambassadors.
Have some of our tea if you like.
Sit, please."




You have legitimate trouble telling exactly when one stops talking and the other picks up seamlessly. You stiffly take a smoothed silk throne, relaxing when Chips demands some attention by immediately raiding your lap and smashing his head into your hand. Roma and Amora both smile with the sincerity of delight for Catkind, careful with their long nails to give the kitten attention as they recklessly jump up onto the dining table of smoothed stone. Sauber kneels, and finds a gap in the stonework floor that allows his tremendous height to rest a more reasonable level over the shared diners. You are both poured a suitable amount of some kind of violet flower tea, which you hold but don't yet sip.

"My sisters, sisters, who is coming to join us?"

Roma and Amora exchange a smile, and fill you in with their brother's excuse.

"Well, since we have such a long afternoon and evening before the midnight auction,
we're seeing if we can't have a small celebration of the coming end of the 199th year.
Rotating door allowance."


You adjust your mask, and pet Chips to soothe your nerves. He gets his claws caught in Red's cloak.

"So far, joining us is another Ambassador, one of MC&D's Level V Agents, and... one other I believe who said they'd come along if able.
They should be here very,
very soon."


Sauber clicks his claws on the stone with an eyes-closed smile. "Good! We're being taken seriously; I adore that smell. Oh, to have them arrive and here is Ulthar already ahead of them! A sip to that scent, yes?"

Sauber, Roma, and Amora all lift their tea glasses. The kitten tries to bat them out of their hands. You do as well after a second, and join in as is your role - here's to being the ones ahead of the trillion-tier pack. The cats seem content so... you just need to...

Lean down, and take a sip and-

(Disquiet) 9 - [4]+[5]+[1] = 10 - Failure By One...

NIGHTMA̶͢RE̕:͏̷̀ ̶[̀͘ ̷̕ ͡͞]̢͘[̡ ̀͠ ̷]̴̸͞[͜ ͟ ̵҉]̸̴̸[̀ ͏҉ ̕]̧̡͞[̴͡0̡%]̷̛

you gotta get up this is so so so bad so bad you can't do it but wait wait wait what if you could what if what if what if you were magic and you managed to

(Dreaming) 9 - [4]+[3]+[1] = 8 - Success! By One!

Stop.

DREAMING: [ ~ ][ ~ ][30%]

You have a cat in your lap. They're here to make sure you're safe. You have to play your part as promised, and you can do that in a dream. Your body relaxes, the Mana still waterfalling through your heart. You can handle a lunch. You sip the tea, mask designed (by the best) to make it easy. The flavor is wine-deep, and it calms you into the belief of the dream. The belief of you-

The Singer.

pumpinglemma
Apr 28, 2009

DD: Fondly regard abomination.

In the mythos, Daoloth is a god of wormholes and scrying worshipped by the mi-go, while Chaugnar Faugn is a vampiric elephant thing. I'm inclined to go Daoloth for the chance that they'll react well to our fungal friend. I'm inclined to go Cassandra for the agent just because she's the wrong gender to be another name for Deimos. And I'm inclined to go with Rita for the other because rats are cool.

e: Although perhaps it would be more sensible to go for the troll, given that a troll is unlikely to be put off their stride by the presence of cats.

pumpinglemma fucked around with this message at 23:02 on Feb 20, 2021

Randalor
Sep 4, 2011



I voted for the Troll, just because... yeah, the cats and the rat may go together like oil and water.

Razakai
Sep 15, 2007

People are afraid
To merge on the freeway
Disappear here
Bit disappointed that Crocell isn't winning because I think that might be a reference to something prior. Or a coincidence.

PetraCore
Jul 20, 2017

👁️🔥👁️👁️👁️BE NOT👄AFRAID👁️👁️👁️🔥👁️

pumpinglemma posted:

In the mythos, Daoloth is a god of wormholes and scrying worshipped by the mi-go, while Chaugnar Faugn is a vampiric elephant thing. I'm inclined to go Daoloth for the chance that they'll react well to our fungal friend. I'm inclined to go Cassandra for the agent just because she's the wrong gender to be another name for Deimos. And I'm inclined to go with Rita for the other because rats are cool.

e: Although perhaps it would be more sensible to go for the troll, given that a troll is unlikely to be put off their stride by the presence of cats.
The original Singer also specifically started singing again to welcome the ratlings, so I'm thinking having Rita show up might unlock more interesting memories for us.

Black August
Sep 28, 2003

VOTING CLOSED - Unforgettable Luncheon

The Ambassador
Chaugnar's Holiest - 6
Daoloth Faithful - 12


The Agent
Agent Crocell - 3
Agent Cassandra - 16


The Other
Rita the Red, Ratling Sovereign - 15
Halda, the Troll Hristan - 4


LOADING...

...LOADING

Black August
Sep 28, 2003

Ok, great, ceremony over, so when's lu-

"AH!" points the Duke, "They have arrived!"

Oh. Ok. More social pressure first cool.



A figure holds the door open for the other two first. One is a sylvan you think, a young one. Ashen skin, brilliant with peridot veins. Head obscured by a masking skull-shell of alien geometrical metal. His mouth is exposed, but it's one twisted into a permanent grin - he has no lips. Right leg gone, replaced by a bizarrely-shaped prosthetic of the same metal as his head. Ragged shroud is his dress, with colors of a xanthous tree.

The other is small! Smaller than even you and of mostly-bipedal murine form. She wears a crimson jumpsuit that makes you think of a fencer, with a little red cape. A menacing red crown, sitting over a wolf mask. Sword strapped to her side. You catch sight of a regal-clawed hand, and it's white in color. She shows her station with a bow, and then shows her self with arms flung open and an airy-cheerful tone.

"My Duke, my DUKE! Ześćjour! I am with courage once again seeing you!"

She scampers with frightening agility down the stairs and slopes, while the religious sylvan walks slowly. Slower than him was the one who closes the doors after a final peek down the halls. The logic of dreams captivates- you see the one standing at the door, and your mind says "Hey!" and "Red Roosters have those comeback plays", but that makes no sense and it comforts you dearly.



DREAMING: [ ~ ][ ~ ][ ~ ][40%]

She was young as well. Capable and competent, but nobody who should have to do this kind of work at such an age. It's sadism. Her professional was visibly kill-ready, with the finest black suit and red tie, the material pleasing but obviously protective. A scruff of blonde hair, eyes faded green, evidence of small old burns visible here and there. Her lapel bears a pin, marking her one of the Agents of MC&D. Something you have to be wary of, then... but still there was the cheer of thousands somewhere far behind the back of your mind.

You prepare yourself foOH MY GOD THE RAT IS FIGHTING THE CAT

"Entraży, Fiend!"

The wolf-masked fencer has drawn her blade, and she-

(!Duelist) 25 - [2]+[6]+[5] = 13 - Success!
(!Cat) ??? - [2]+[2]+[4] = 8 - Success!


-she stabs and waves her sword, a slim ruby blade, in and around the air of the kitten. The kitten is on her back, batting and clawing at the sword every time it comes in close, until with a lightning exchange it somehow gets slapped away by the kitten, sending it flying over the edge. The murine then leaps back, and pretends a dramatic death on the floor, while Roma and Amora clap and Sauber cheers the kitten (deftly lifting her up for praise, before she leaps onto the face of the wolf-mask rat). Chips is content using your amazing heater cloak to keep nesting in your lap. He's already passed out despite the commotion.



The rat-person says "I am bested, once again! This is the thrill we must NEVER wish away. My Agent, lovely, please will you bring back my deftly-disarmed baton?"

The Agent doesn't say anything, and just nods before she turns to go. But the masked sylvan stands up and speaks, with a papery tone that seems to come from every direction at once, which creeps you right the Hell out.

"I have it. I'm f͏e͟e̷l̶in͞g the surface of the glass, let me..."

(!Dimensionalist) 17 - [4]+[4]+[4] = 12 - Success.

What the HELL is he doing with his arm?! What direction is that?? He's leaning back and then up as if he's holding a globe, running a peridot finger over its surface until it's pinpricked and then with the other arm a quick twist of the wrist and...

(WL - Minor Mythos Fright) 19 - [1]+[6]+[6] = 13 - Success.

Oh God. Ohhh Hell. Ok. Ok you're not cool with that. He's holding the sword and- ok wait. Wait. Wait. Oh no.

Trash Compactor posted:

You want to know something cool? The emptier I am, the smarter I get. Funny, huh?

I get meaner, too. Really mean. You want to know what makes me even meaner than that? All this... this mass excess of energy bundled up in me. Your mitochondria are hurling! It's an inspiring biological high but you know what makes it worth poo poo to me right now? That we're dreaming passed-out, you puked a lunch I really needed and then put me through miles of pain, and you're high on unstable alchemical drugs. The point is that I am in pain, I am full of energy, I am EMPTY of food, and now, now you make me watch someone who smells like a math book make their arm do that, and you want me to just keep sipping tea.

How about gently caress you, feed me.

(HT - NOT. GONNA. DO IT.) 14 - [5]+[4]+[3] = 12 - Success...

Slow slow slow. Grab the- silk napkin perfect there we go. Tea tea tea just they're all distracted clapping cheering just gently pour the rest out into one of the purple silk pillows there's dozens ok ok you got this, cough, cough once, then the cup up under your mask there, there! COUGH, and up it comes, just one mouthful of searing bile. Ok. Ok cup down onto the counter, plate OVER the top of it and it's fine now, concealed, you're not going to puke.

You are under direct orders to not puke.

Ok. Back in. Hands folded and thank God. Swallow. Pet Chips. Sweet little sleepy cat. The kitten is the life of the party on the table, as Sauber carefully positions himself next to the rat royal to keep her at a height the kitten wasn't going to make a diplomatic issue of. The creepy lipless guy is taking his seat on your side, ok, sure, and the Agent she's just standing by the table, professionally relaxed. She... oh poo poo she took your cup. Is- ok the plate is still lidded on top. She just put it on a side tablestone. What a relief.

Keep petting Chips. There's banter. The lipless one staying quiet but still more talkative than you, the rat simply the life of the party, unflinching in front of a crowd of apex superkillers.

The Duke breaks off to allow his sister sisters to speak with the ratling royal, while he asks the Agent "Amora tells me that Agent Crocell was invited. Is she not coming along?"

She speaks for the first time. Warm voice, controlled and restrained. "No Sir. They need her for the Auction, so she's being trained. She sends her regards."



Sauber smiles, in that special way only his raptor shape could achieve. "Please. Tell the Prince of Cold I am VERY looking forward to tonight's presentation. I can think of no better way to create a bond of good will and test of mettle than the auction."

You quietly belch under the mask, clearing your throat. Yuck. You feel stable, at least. The Duke and the Agent chatter with one another, which leaves... well, you think you can actually deal with this guy next to you. You have to try. So you turn towards him a little, remind yourself of your headscar when you stare at his missing lips, and tell him, heya, I'm the Ambassador for Ulthar. What's your (do not think of the arm twist) deal?

He responds, that classroom-dry voice again. "I always have this mask on, you know. My name is Santek. I don't need to hide my identity. I'm the last Priest of Daoloth. They are living physics, and they took my eyes to let me see."

...





Wow. Ok. Hi?

His smile never changes. But he quirks his head, at angles just precise enough to spark the idea of his smile growing more friendly.


"Well, like you, right? I can read the equations of your sightline; you can see without seeing too. It's a big honor for Daoloth to have interest in this. They'd like to keep on the good side of Ulthar, and they know something is up with the Corporation Entity doing something as blatant as inviting them."

...


He's right. You feel comfortable all of a sudden. So this is good diplomacy? Look! Chips is even getting up to smash his head into Santek's hand. You take the time to smooth your outfit and sit better and you hear the name Daoloth and you think that they sure do love mushrooms and it itches your brain with the spores insane as something sparks back awake while you sleep.



(!ESP ɑ) 9 - [1]+[5]+[1] = 7 - Success!!

What Am I Thinking? posted:

You tell Santek, well, this is funny, right? Get this. You unbutton some of your shirt, and you show him- Black Crows! Champ. Now Santek, he's all-in on this. He's laughing and slapping his knee, and the geometry of a body bends such that you think he does have lips at this angle, showing teeth with a smile you understand.

"Yes! I remember. I remember. Yellow Yaks for me. I still have my shirt back in my tent. It was weird, being ten again ten again ten again. I placed out... I want to say, in the last month? The spiders got way too smart by the end. Phased right into a pack of them. Ouuuuuhff."

He shivers, and you pat his arm. We've all been there. He exhales with relief at meeting another colonist, and mentions "I'm happy the Pact with Ulthar is going well. Daoloth will be content when that becomes formula. They remember your equation with holy fondness, you know. You made sure the Plutos didn't have to die. I can create a much more effective holy ground out of their architecture."

Santek scratches his dark hair. He glances at the Agent, and towards the door. "It's a murderhouse... we're both Ambassadors of things the Fae don't like to abuse, and the Corporation doesn't want to cross. But they're still going to try to find ways to close us off and make life difficult. I think we can find the angles around it."

Thank God. He's competent, as expected from a camper who tested out that late. Daoloth is BAD News, but they were the kind of Bad News that didn't involve radiance and nonstop neuronal scrambling. Santek is an incredible asset, and his secret maths will steal as much information as MC&D intends to swindle out of everyone at the Moot.

"Speaking of, I need to remember that the Holy Emperor asked me to teach her the Dimensional Angle. I need to get something from the Duke to pass along to her back at Home as well, she wants-"

You wake up into a dream as the door opens with a bang. The Agent's hand goes to her jacket, but she stops. You're fighting to clear your dreaming thoughts- you were about to talk to the lipless creepboy next to you, but you forget what you were going to say. Someone is here for lunch it looks like. Sharply dressed in vest and tie, gun openly strapped to one side, a strange mask of a red moon worn over his face, as he gestures grandiose and calls down the smooth stone stairs.

"THE DUKE OF DISASTER! You made it early this time! Holy poo poo it's good to see you."


DREAMING: [ ~ ][ ~ ][30%]

Nuh. You're getting itchy uncomfortable, and you don't know why. You feel silver sloshing around your brain's mushroom colony, little sparks and jostles of the waking world bleeding around and leaving gaps in the dream. You shuffle in closer to the math boy, though you don't know why that seems like a good idea, and make room as the red moon man plops down next to you. He starts by talking to the Agent, and handing out silk squares of lightscript. Even the kitten and Chips get one.

"Hey Cass. I got the menus, since you didn't. Good to see everyone here. I'm going with 'Agent Red Moon' today, because Micky-CD's doesn't actually give a poo poo about concealing identities or Fae nature."

There's a share of laughter among the murine, Sauber and the sister sisters. Lipless stays silent, and Agent 'Cass' just glares as her masked companion. The wolf-mask rat says "Come, come! All will feel sharper with something to eat."

Ok. So. Good distraction from this dread in your hunger-smart stomach. You pull open the silk, and read the choices from the lightscript. The Council of Ulthar was right. This place doesn't skimp on the catering. You got one to pick from of...


Appy
Lunch
Drink

OneWingedDevil
Aug 27, 2012
Eek. So many choices, and nothing in the Blue Book to guide.

I went with Sunshine cherries since they seem pleasant and we need that, the King Calamari since it seems the most normal (wouldn't be surprised if stone cutlets are somewhat literal and Dragon Steaks might be a bit too spicy), and Cadanzan red since we're maybe taking the role of the Singer of Cadanza

If only something apple-related was in here...

Vox Valentine
May 31, 2013

Solving all of life's problems through enhanced casting of Occam's Razor. Reward yourself with an imaginary chalice.

Yeah we didn't react too good to eating that firemeat burger, which may have just been a consequence of the spices but I'm gonna bet firemeat is a more colloquial term for dragon meat.

Razakai
Sep 15, 2007

People are afraid
To merge on the freeway
Disappear here
The unpowered snack sounds like a SCP reference (a strange vending machine that outputs all sorts of random snacks, which take on even more bizarre properties when the machine is unplugged). https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-261

pumpinglemma
Apr 28, 2009

DD: Fondly regard abomination.

Personally I'm afraid "king calamari" is going to be something kraken-ish and horrifying and hard to keep down. The firemeat burger had ghost peppers in it, also known as the chilli pepper people apply to posts to keep elephants away - I'm guessing that's what our stomach reacted to, so dragon steaks for me. Agreed on sunshine cherries for the starter. For the drink, I went with the martini - "pale mead" is going to be made with some pretty weird honey since mead is normally golden, and "100th year Cadanzan red" could be either wine or blood.

e: Also, Rita has quickly established herself as The Best.

pumpinglemma fucked around with this message at 21:36 on Feb 21, 2021

PetraCore
Jul 20, 2017

👁️🔥👁️👁️👁️BE NOT👄AFRAID👁️👁️👁️🔥👁️

pumpinglemma posted:

Personally I'm afraid "king calamari" is going to be something kraken-ish and horrifying and hard to keep down. The firemeat burger had ghost peppers in it, also known as the chilli pepper people apply to posts to keep elephants away - I'm guessing that's what our stomach reacted to, so dragon steaks for me. Agreed on sunshine cherries for the starter. For the drink, I went with the martini - "pale mead" is going to be made with some pretty weird honey since mead is normally golden, and "100th year Cadanzan red" could be either wine or blood.

e: Also, Rita has quickly established herself as The Best.
Plus, we ate the burger when we were super hosed up. I don't think it was actually bad for us, I think it was too much and too rich when we were in that state. There's definitely shades of our physical state peeking through into the Dreamlands, but the power of the Dream is smoothing that over and helping calm that down, so I don't think we're going to hurl as easily.

Pale mead could mean pale golden, but I went with Cadanzan red for the reasons other people have given.

Black August
Sep 28, 2003

VOTING CLOSED - Yes, I'll Be Having The...

Sunshine Cherries - 12
Just One Chip - 5
Unpowered Snack - 4

Stone Cutlets - 1
Dragon Steak - 10
King Calamari - 10


Pale Mead - 4
100th Year Cadanzan Red - 12
Mint Martini #447 - 4


LOADING...

...LOADING

Vox Valentine
May 31, 2013

Solving all of life's problems through enhanced casting of Occam's Razor. Reward yourself with an imaginary chalice.

Yeah baby, Surf-N-Turf special! Also I figured the Pale Mead is a Carcosan brew and we've been doing a good job steering clear of that.

Regallion
Nov 11, 2012

Oh Casey bat seems amazing, anything that bypasses the target's def and is not self-breakable is goddamn great. Basically it's effect with proper use is "Iif your hit chance is lower than 25%, set it to 25%, your attacks always crit on hit).
That's on top of the will boosts. Very nice.

With REALLY stupid interpretations you could just swing it in the air not even aiming at anything and one in four swings will just auto-hit.

PetraCore
Jul 20, 2017

👁️🔥👁️👁️👁️BE NOT👄AFRAID👁️👁️👁️🔥👁️

Oh god, another tie.

Randalor
Sep 4, 2011



I'm sorry, I voted for the calamari and that made it a tie.

pumpinglemma
Apr 28, 2009

DD: Fondly regard abomination.

Regallion posted:

Oh Casey bat seems amazing, anything that bypasses the target's def and is not self-breakable is goddamn great. Basically it's effect with proper use is "Iif your hit chance is lower than 25%, set it to 25%, your attacks always crit on hit).
That's on top of the will boosts. Very nice.

With REALLY stupid interpretations you could just swing it in the air not even aiming at anything and one in four swings will just auto-hit.
As a bonus, murderous intent makes our crits twice as good. Combine that with anything that gives you more attacks per round or lets you manipulate hit chance and baby you got a stew going. (Although tyranny is sword-based, so probably not a build-around - just a very good way of dealing with high defenses.)

PetraCore
Jul 20, 2017

👁️🔥👁️👁️👁️BE NOT👄AFRAID👁️👁️👁️🔥👁️

It being cursed makes me think you can't just swap it out for another weapon, though, which would mean it only becomes really viable on characters not really built for melee combat to begin with.

habituallyred
Feb 6, 2015
So what is our plan to screw with Deimos here? Do we get together in private and take off our mask, showing that there is nowhere we cannot find him? Sing a song about a time we just happened to see a McD employee totally fail to take out a target? I think the cats would understand if we take a detour to do this.

Adbot
ADBOT LOVES YOU

Black August
Sep 28, 2003

You guess... but you kinda want... maybe... let me get a uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh



Suddenly, the silk folds itself into wings, and flies off out of the sphere room at glittering speed. Ok? You guess your order is made, you-

A hand smacks your shoulder. "Hey, hi, MC&D. Thanks for coming, thanks for looking after the cats." - you try not to tense up and shy away when the red-masked man invades your space. He leans over and shakes the hand of the Priest. "Daoloth, right? Let me say I'm happy THEY made it out of the 1% that survived. Happy you're here."

He shakes the murine's tiny hand, makes greet with Roma and Amora, and finally salutes Sauber and the cats. "Well! Croke not here? Good, not in the mood for her today. We got the higher ups in such a riot over every drat detail. I'm loose in the leash until everyone gets here, so we can enjoy ourselves until dark."

Sauber hunches over, putting a hand around (the entirety of) royal rat's back as he lowers his tone to group-cordiality. "Please, my sister sisters and I are hungry to know, who else has agreed to show?"

Everyone leans in. Even the Dimensionalist. You lean in too, while Chips sits next to you and the kitten climbs into Sauber's lap. The red-moon masked man clicks his fingers, and shares the skinny. Even Agent Cass seems interested. "I don't know ALL the all, but so far I'm hearing we got... oh what are the big names. We got The Last Orc, Queen Mercury, Lea Gola, Six-Fingered William, the Beautiful Prince, Eron the Relentless, one of Kaigen's higher-up ogres... those are the important ones I caught on the list."

The ratling claps her hands and says, "No word from Celephais? Or Leng?"

The red-masked man shrugs. "Not yet. Not my problem. I heard the Leng rep got caught up in some natural disaster destroying its work. MC&D isn't happy about the funding loss, but I'm not surprised. That area is cursed."

Sauber says, "Nobody unexpected then. But the auction! My good good man, tell us what we might WIN." - he leans in way too close to the mask, but the one behind it doesn't flinch. He puts up his hands and points at the door as the silk wings fly back in, and begin to unfold in front of everyone, somehow sliding out your order like a magic trick as they settle into becoming napkins.



Wow. This is a spread! There's a lovely gemstone bowl full of golf ball sized cherries of an unusual yellow-orange shade. They catch the fading light brilliantly, seeming to glow from within. With it is a gemstone wine glass, filled high with a dark red wine. Then there's your main dish, which... which is BOTH things of what you wanted! Surf AND Turf! It looks weird, but wonderful. The steak is bizarre. It's marbled with blue and white, and has a strongly fish-like smell mixed with the undefinable scent of meat. The calamari is ridiculous, each piece the size of your fist, fried dark yellow and served with sweet-smelling tan sauces. You're suddenly unsure if you can handle this, but you can at least start with the cherries and the wine to silence the engine-roar of your stomach.

"FINALLY. Slowpokes. What's up on auction? Lot of the usual bullshit. Some of the Items Of Interest, a few anomalous slaves, couple of properties, a lunch with Carter, three big ticket items, a shot at that new artificial spirit animal; actually not a bad showing. They're real serious about buying everyone off. Yeah, yeah I'm not supposed to be lippy about it, but poo poo you all know this. You're not who they're after."

Agent Cass interrupts, with arms crossed. "Yeah, no duh. They're after your ex."

The red-masked Agent throws up his hands in the middle of preparing his salad. "THERE it is! The awkward lead-in! Yeah, no poo poo they want my ex. Check this, Cass."



Ah... ahhhHHHHhhhhhhhhhh. You think of something silver, and it hides quietly under the black as something brilliant red lances out and through your karma, weaving around the room with psychic ease, even in the Dream. The red-masked man speaks easy, now in complete control of the social situation.

"Yeah, I see it, kid. You want to have a laugh because you think I'm still a has-been fuckup that's only kept around to do lost-cause projects for the M-C-D. Figured you'd do a little cutting in front of the Duke. Shitbrained move from a shitbrained girl! I'm still climbing the ladder even after she took off, and I'm still around because they know I can bring her back in, just like I'm wearing Merkja down. I'm the FIXER, Cassy, and I don't want your freshly-five'd rear end to forget that. Now get the gently caress out of here and go be useful showing where the bathrooms are to the come-latelys."

It's a big boast, but the psychic sound makes him incapable of lying- it's all true, and everyone in the room knows it. Agent Cass walks off without saying a word, the furor written into her face. There was nothing she could do about it without a vile social backfire, as carnelian eats her insecurities and chases her from the masked man's puffed-up sight. He sits back, unfazed by the awkward silence, before he raises his drink.

"You'll be told tonight, so here's the news early; the Singer of Cadanza? Yup. She's back in town. She's going back on a leash. She's going to be my little woman again, and MC&D is going to be even MORE on top than it already is. Cass doesn't know poo poo. She doesn't get that this is the time of change, waking and dreaming. The Singer is currency- she's just as valuable dead and out of the way as she is alive and back on the map. She's KNOWN, accounted for, a quantity, and so is everyone and everything else. So good God, let's eat."

Ok this guy bothers you to no end, but why does he bother you more than he should be with his behavior? Your neck is itching and your dream is shifting. Something is trying to talk loud in the back of the black.

DREAMING: [ ~ ][20%]

Just... pet Chips. Ignore it. Get through this lunch. It does looks really good... so better blend in and have a bite. Just eat it. Come on. You're so hungry your DREAM is feeling it, just pop a cherry in and-

(HT) 14 - [4]+[6]+[6] = 16 - Failure!

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand you can't eat. You can't. You absolutely cannot eat. After all the big talk of your tummy, it's tapping out. One bite, a single nibble, a tiny taste, and you'll puke. You'll wake up. You'll ruin EVERYTHING.

DREAMING: [10%]

You'll just... wait for your stomach to settle and...



"Hey. Ambassador. You not hungry? You not going to eat?"

Oh no. Please. No. Something red is hovering over your mind. Stop. Please. You already feel so cramped and uncomfortable. The red-masked man slides in and keeps pushing himself verbally.

"That's RARE calamari. Rarer than the steak even. You never eat dragon? Cut it vertically, that's the best way to have it. I don't really expect you to know that but you should, and now you do. Hey- I'm not talking to the Priest, I'm talking to YOU. Cat Courier."

gently caress. gently caress. His mask is in your face now. Sauber and the wolf-mask rat distracted talking, Roma and Amora distracted eating, Agent Cass gone, the Priest sipping his only order of a drink, Chips and the kitten busy trying to steal Sauber's food... just you. Just you?

Just you to cling to a cliffside of diplomatic nerve.

"You got a crow mask, caring for cats... so you got a sense of humor? Who ARE you, Ambassador? Hm? What's the title? What's your hope for Ulthar?"

You have to deal with this guy. You have to think fast or you're going to puke.

  • 1
  • 2
  • 3
  • 4
  • 5
  • Post
  • Reply