She overheard guy in rags shouting praise, lively in spirit and mad in sense. "This fellow however has a good start in energy, I'll give them that!" ( @O.R.I.G.I.N. )
The metal lady shifts a bit, claws drumming the side of her lengthy head. These new arrivals. Strange. Fun!
Her voice, though not audible, is tangible, a resonance felt within all of those present. It's an indiscriminate question to all parties and all sides.
The metal lady shifts a bit, claws drumming the side of her lengthy head. These new arrivals. Strange. Fun!
Her voice, though not audible, is tangible, a resonance felt within all of those present. It's an indiscriminate question to all parties and all sides.
She tilts her head over, lens looking "Anfini" up and down as she somehow sighs, though lacking any sort of a mouth, or lungs, with which to conventionally do as such.
"I'm bored.. so, so very bored. I'm always bored."
She tilts her head over, lens looking "Anfini" up and down as she somehow sighs, though lacking any sort of a mouth, or lungs, with which to conventionally do as such.
"I'm bored.. so, so very bored. I'm always bored."
Fumph. The impact of a child against the floor can be heard, the coliseum rung by her presence as the infection of the Descendant / Adventurer / Whatever it is for this adventure, as well as the combination of her actual scale of power, rends through the nearby area.
A girl with a massive, star-peppered afro, a bear-themed hoodie, green backpack covered in pins and stickers, and cute little green boots stood up. She looks around at where she is, and a pendant is able to slip out of her jacket - one attached to a glowing, orange stone. She's kept it through every universe she's been through, even if it's kind of defunct now. Shame to her really.
".. Where.. am I? Why's a weird big soldier dude in front of me?"
Entry: Molly Blyndeff, Holder of the Burbus Soul Stone.
Oh- She needs to, do things here- Oh, noooo, she barely knows what she has to do, but she knows that's probably some big evil guy, and she gave herself the epithet Epithet WHY? Oh, wait, right, keeps her able to do all of those things. Screw it, RANDOM THING GO!
[ EPITHET: ABSTERSIVE ]
Molly runs up and points a hand out to one of the golems, opting to just play support, acting like it's her usual epithet with Hushabye .. and the golems around her feel themselves becoming cleansed. Washing away into shreds of dirt.
[ Augment: 1 / 50 ]
A shred of her epithet power flings to someone random. ( +1 to Claim )
Ahugefigurecladinglowingwhitearmorfallsfromthesky,landingononeofthegolemswithastompattack. Hebackflips (a surprising move given his size and bulk) tostandafairdistanceawaywithhisarmscrossed.
The figure is a guardian of some kind. For what (and when), there's not a reason to know right now. Five long prongs stick out of the sides of his helmet, and where his face would be is a blackness filled with twinkling stars. A few large spikes made of the same darkness stick out of his back in seemingly random places.
He isn't carrying any weapons.
Subtly, a Drone floats into the battlefield, its lights are dim and it floats... very simply, only going in straight lines
Then it detects HIM, The Fabrication Drone returns to full Power and Activity as it turns to scan the Battlefield.
The Angular Drone then Flies to the gathered AG's and Immediately a Holographic representation of a Wall appears, then beams shoot out from the AG Drone's Glowing Blue "Eye".
The Beam Fabricates the Wall, building it up with each sweep, the Wall looks incomplete because it has corners on the ends that lead to nowhere, the Fab Drone will probably continue building next turn.
[Attack Drone Factory 1/4]
The Drone Charges its energy to build up a Factory
+1 to @Fluxxation in the form of the Fabrication Drone making a Power Cell that it then sends to the other Metal Individual with a Glowing Blue Optic
A man with a luchador mask runs into the coliseum.
He strikes a pose, realizes nobody is looking at him, coughs and does it again. "Zamiar! You killed my father's mother's sister's long lost half brother's pet's uncle's coworker's soda machine! I am the vengeance that will banish you for this wrongdoing!"
The luchador charges up an attack. "Say your prayers, villain! This attack is powered by my baseball card collection that is roughly equivalent in value to 10 thousand dollars!"
He lunges towards Zamiar...
And accidentally hits a rock. "Hmph, maybe it was for the best. You see, that attack, if aimed correctly, is powerful enough to stop someone's he-" 「 ULTIMATE DEATH BARRAGE 」
The luchador is defeated in an instant. 「 SUCH LACKLUSTER TECHNIQUES. MANKIND HAS SURELY DECLINED IN THE LAST TEN THOUSAND YEARS. 」
The rock looks at the Minor Earth Golems. 「 YOU BELIEVE YOU CAN IMITATE MY POWER WITH THESE CONSTRUCTS. DESPICABLE. THIS WORLD SHALL BE CLEANSED. 」 "Zamiar! cough cough This is the last of my power! Use it! You're cough our world's only hope!"
The luchador lacklusterly throws some baseball cards into the air and falls to the ground.
The rock slowly moves towards Zamiar. The air grows dense. Zamiar finds it hard to stand. The rock's power ripples through dimensions. 「 YOU ARE A GODMODDER. I'VE SEEN BETTER. YOU WILL NOT BE ENOUGH TO- 」
The rock steps on something. It is. A pair of scissors. 「 GAH! THE- THE PROPHECY OF ROCK PAPER SCISSORS BUT IN REVERSE?! BUT- BUT I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST A MYTH! 」
The rock explodes into a massive aurora. The world is saved.
...
But not without sacrifice. The soda machine. The luchador. Those scissors. Surely Zamiar believes that their deaths are all his fault. The guilt. It burdens him for years. Eventually, though, he realizes that he couldn't have done anything to save them, they'd want him to move on, to be happy. He looks to the sky and smiles, ready to truly live again.
The Vessel grunts. It's disgruntled, yet varily observes the Godmodder's actions. Summoning, eh. Cowardly.
They grunt again, cracking its neck forth, towards the Earth Golem. Raising its appendages like fists, it quickly pounds the Golem into ground, raises them with open hand, then smashes them against the ground, smearing it like clay.
"S'that what-what you got-got?"
Despite speaking, it looks like it's not speaking, the words conveyed, yet nowhere that causes the voice to escape from.
"Minor-minor annoyances in my-in my way?"
The air sems to shudder, to waver. A lithe, white-grey form of alien metal striding out from nothing to gaze, almost blankly, at the conflict ahead with her singular cyan lens. It's slanted down like an exhausted expression. [N]
"A show is a show, I do suppose."
With a flourish of one her claw-like fingers, cyan strings and tears weave amidst the air, seemingly to offer strength to the vague form before her, coiling silently about them for a moment. (Giving a charge to the nameless entity)
She conjures some sort of hovering, modest metal throne, devoid of much elaborate detail. Resting upon it and crossing her bladed, slender legs, she leans her elongated head in one hand to watch, lens following the combat at impossible speeds.
(I can only surrender my charge to a single person, or use it upon myself, right? Just making sure.)
Welcome to the game! As per your request, putting you as [N].
Zamiar takes a very exaggerated bow at your presence. "I'm so happy to be of entertainment. But please, this show is interactive!"
"Come down from your high horse and I'll give you a show."
'Tis a rather uneventful day, a dull one for our dear Zamiar. Pledges of allegiance made, attempts at him looking minor, toys cast at the rabble for them to chew on, all but tedium for an "enemy of the world" sort.
Then falls a grand piano, its heavy mass threatening damage. Of course, its shadow is like an assassin's battle cry; unnecessarily calling attention to their deed. The piano is dodged, simple as that... or if this is felt to be a bluff, sure, try and call it. Take the damage it threatens if you think it hollow (it is not).
...asiding thoughts over a fallen over piano, then comes... a scratch felt on his leg? From inside his formidable armor? What gives?! Our dear Godmodder would come to realize this to be a treachery of sorts from the armor itself: A sharp, pointy bit exists on the armor's internals, betraying any comfort function it is likely to have and bypassing any chainmail undershirt (or leggings for that matter) or such just to reach the vulnerable skin from within. Surely he's had it well checked for any defects before engaging in this battle! How did this come to be-
And then a sharp sensation pierces the heart... or rather, spikes quite literally formed inside his heart, formed out of its own flesh that also betrays the entire organ's purpose. HOW?! Is this some sort of biological error that has a .001% nanochance of spontaneously occurring? Why him?! Why now?!
He tries to play off the pain and stride forward, but a rock protrusion causes him to trip, regardless of if said rock survives the stride of a Godmodder. He tries any means of recovering but he bumps into a chair- when was there a chair here?! He may either retaliate against the chair or leave it be, but then his elbow bumps into a random pillar, the impact causing just the right vibration within the armor to disturb the funny bone. He may either reel in a special sort of pain or accept it and ascend to a higher plane of existence, but both are interrupted by an apple falling on him more sneakily than the piano ever could. He finally tries to get a word in but he starts coughing- oh you cannot be serious is that the common cold?! Really?!
And now there's just a random onlooker inside this colosseum. Sure, I guess we have random people here now. Said onlooker... jeers on our dear Zamiar, mocking him to the tune of "Your name starts with a Z? How edgy!" This precedes a beatdown brought down upon our beloathed jeerer by a crowd of Zacharys and Zacks and Zoes and other plain names starting with that letter. Bit of a vindication there, but the mockery will stay in the heart, regardless of it coming from... some random stranger- ok where are all these people coming from?! Well, as it turns out, some civilization of sorts spontaneously developed here... within the confines of this colosseum, within the span of the golems' creation to now... Look! They're doing their variation of the Tower of Babel- oop the wrath of some God analog befalls it, leading to the civilization's instant scattering (away from this colosseum) and the physical collapse of a towering Godchallenger scattering debris that, of course, flies really harmfully towards Zamiar for good measure.
...again, what is going on? Surely these aren't just strokes of misfortunes since he's likely to have at least installed countermeasures for those. This must be the deliberate will of something, one of a Neutral sort only choosing now to torment the Godmodder! So then, Who is responsible for this?!
...
You just answered your question.
What is being charged? [1/10]
A cardboard cutout of a "+1" is dropped into the pockets of a certain Shadow Archivist (or mercenary of sorts under the employ of said Shadow Archive). @Anfini
Welcome to the game! As per request, placing you in [N]
Zamiar looks up at the rapidly approaching piano of doom, and raises a hand. The piano lands on it, where he starts to spin it rapidly. "Never claimed to be good at music, but I believe I can freestyle quite well, no?"
The minor itch on his leg, though, immediately causes him to throw the piano off into the distance as he drops to a knee. "Oh I don't know who you are, but this means war you little-"
Zamiar is cut off once again as a spike forms inside his heart. This is not healthy, as one can imagine. Zamiar makes a strangled coughing sound, before swinging his chest open like a lunchbox, pulling out his heart, and delicately removing the spike, before slotting it back in and closing his chest with a nice *ker-chunk* sound.
The suddenly-made chair and pillar look at Zamiar funny as he gets up, before he looks at them funnier, and causes both to run away in fear.
Then comes the people. Zamiar's neck cracks as he snaps to look at the one who dares insult him. "Do you know who I am? I am so far above your worthless existence, it would take all of your pathetic species to equal the power I can put out in a minute. I am the end of all things, the one who has the world bend to their will. I am Zamiar, and I will make you regret ever insulting my name."
Zamiar is then called edgy. His anger promptly leaves in an instant as he is emotionally broken, collapsing to the ground as he grapples with this absolute fact. The Z-crew all jumps Zamiar, but still can't pass through his armor. A Local God smites the attempted Tower of Babel, and Zamiar is promptly buried under the weight of mortal hubris.
...
...He blows off the debris fairly quickly, but the words left him forever changed. 1 damage to the Godmodder! Zamiar picks up some rock and crushes it into a "Legally Not Edgy" license, putting it in his Infinite Storage Space (pockets). "No more."
"PRAISE THE LORD!"
Oh vegg. Not all-caps again...
"PRAISE IT, FOR IT IS HOLY! IT IS SACRED!! IT IS GOOD!!!"
I'm about to take this guy out behind the woodshed and give him the old-
"!PRAISE! !!PRAISE IT!! !!!PRAISE!!!"
At this rate, I'm gonna run out of exclamation marks. Let me just-
"THE LORD SHALL COME DOWN FROM ITS LAND OF AGED DAIRY AND PROCESSED MEATS, AND WHEN IT DOES, WE SHALL-" *SHOT*
...
Much better! I can finally hear myself-
"!!!PRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAISE!!!"
...Gosh darn it.
A man in ragged brown robes comes stumbling into the coliseum, slipping on the hems of his man-skirt as his sandals plod through the dust. Beneath his sparse almond hair, there is a hole shooting through his left temple. He doesn't seem to have noticed it yet. I'm not sure he ever will.
"PRAISE!" the man screams as he waves a TV Remote through the air. "PRAISE THAT WHICH GIVES US ALL THAT WE DESIRE!"
The remote is comedically large- big enough for the man to strap around his back like some postmodern buster sword. But what's even stranger than the size of the remote is that it has just the one button. It gleams with a glint of selfish red.
[ACTION]
"!PRAISE!" The man stumbles up to The Godmodder, swinging his remote around with one arm to the empty grandstands surrounding them. "PRAISE THE LORD WHO WATCHES OUR DREAMS! PRAISE ITS VISION!! ITS EVERLASTING LIGHT!!!"
Somehow, he manages to curl his thumb up to mash the remote's single button. It flashes dim and shining as beams of infra-red blast the heavens above. It doesn't do anything though. Not unless there are any aliens up there watching Seinfeld.
"!!PRAAAAAAISE IT!!" I think this guy is having an aneurysm.
The man's teeth grind together, getting all up in Zalimar's face. Is... Is that Zalimar like Olimar? Are we playing Pikmin, Tables? Cause let me tell you. I... am not very good.
"!!!PRAAAAAAAAAAAISE!!!"
And all at once, something pops. Like a blood vessel in his brain! Or like the fact that he literally got SHOT!! I SHOT HIM DEAD WHY IS HE STILL-
The man crumples to the ground, curled up at Zalimar's feet like a dead bulborb waiting for its harvest to come. His body twitches. Something red seeps from the hole in his head. But it isn't blood. It's-
The man's eyes flash open. Or- his eye? He has two, but... they are only one. His vision is a singularity, snickering red.
"Hello," THE LORD speaks. As if held by strings, IT rights ITSELF, dangling at eye level with Zalimar. "Would you like to play a game?"
IT reaches out and taps the center of The Godmodder's chestplate. Something clicks. A red button recedes into a hole of vantablack.
Before Zalimar can say anything, IT holds up ITS finger. "You're going to ask what I just did," THE LORD titters. "It's a secret, but I'll tell you." IT leans in close, breathing into the right side of Zalimar's helm. The two just hang there for a moment, waiting. THE LORD parts ITS lips, and-
...
"self-destruct button"
Their two bodies are ripped open by one of the Cardinal Rules of Villainy. "Never forget the Self-Destruct Button." Leaving it out takes away all the fun!
[CHARGE]
THE LORD'S body goes flying into one of the marble walls. ITS eye closes, and when it opens again, the man gasps awake. "!PRAISE!" His name is Berrun. Berrun Prique. [AG]. And he will-
Welcome to the game! As per your request, placing you as [AG] I will neither confirm nor deny Pikmin, but HEY LOOK OVER THERE-*runs away*
Zamiar looks at the very clearly insane man rambling in front of him. He blinks a few times, each one extremely loud for some reason. "...Did someone create an Entity and I failed to notice?"
"Because quite frankly, they disturb me."
Berrun is then shot and killed in broad daylight. Zamiar has a comically large revolver in hand, smoke still pouring from the barrel. His innocence is absolute. Pay no mind to the several sounds of gunshots.
THE LORD rises from the corpse of his most faithful. "Oh."
"I must admit, this has been dull so far."
"A game sounds, if nothing else, like a way to pass some time. Very well, I shall play."
THE LORD pokes Zamiar in the chest. It beeps, and a flash of red passes over it. "..."
"I believe I am going to regret this."
The self-destruct button goes off, Zamiar sent fly
stands in the center of the explosion, unharmed. "Blast Protection VI. Standard protocol, would you not agree?"
(...I think I'm going to leave. I was entirely unprepared for this; I am nowhere near used to this level of chaos. All of my OCs are either way too weak or way too strong for this.) The Problem disappears.
The next being to appear within the confines of the coliseum is more a presence than a figure. Yellow and purple lights accompanied by fog and the distant drumming beat of a rave. Yet all of this is nothing compared to the toxic taste of euphoria in the air. The party ended forever ago but it refuses to pass on.
Laughter rings out of the smoke, something moves within the presence. A figure garbed in a cross between rave gear and wizard attire steps out...
"NYA-HA-HA! Behowod the powew of the gweat Nekomancer, Nyatailie!!"
That is a catgirl, what. She raises a mechanical staff filled with an ominously glowing green liquid and slams it into the ground, a zombified catgirl rising from the dirt and dancing into the fray... Joining Zamiar's golems.
Welcome to game! As per your request, you are [PG]
Zombie Catgirl raised from the dead! It dances over to the remaining Earth Golems. "Well, you seem quite helpful."
"And considering my last bit of help left me, you are now instated as my right hand..."
"...Not sure what you are, exactly, but the message is understood."
Helmet? Check! Discs that can also act as shields? Check! An audience? Check that too? Ladies and gentlemen and other fancy fellas, get ready for someone who can beat the beat!
"Ready to funk? Wait that didn't come out as good as I thought..." Her sick pose soured into one of regret as she tried to trail back on what she said. "You know what, just pretend this speak-slip didn't happen. Besides, that'll only distract ya'll from the party I'm about to throw!"
UNLEASH THE ACTION(S)!
As she finished her last word, her two discs were intentionally tossed to one of the small golems, before they bounced back. "What? That guy didn't have alot of energy." She overheard guy in rags shouting praise, lively in spirit and mad in sense. "This fellow however has a good start in energy, I'll give them that!" ( @O.R.I.G.I.N. )
TRANSITION TO CHARGES!
Perhaps for the fun of it, she she quickly scratched her records in a catchy tag, producing a small note that traveled to her fellow [AG], charging whatever he's having. Meanwhile, she has to get some time to set up a station for herself, perhaps a Portable stand-in-able. It would, in all honesty, be about 80 charges in total, but she'll try to keep the party on for the sake in the meantime. (Forgot to add this: 1/80)
"Anfini" is unfazed. If anything, she seems pleased.
Yeah, that was never going to work. Unless you were a complete idiot. Now we've proven you're not a complete idiot, we can move on to testing in earnest.
Her right hand crackles, building power.
Let's see what you do with a real challenge.
Action: At this, she lifts her hand, and punches-
RIGHT HAND OFFATE - THOUSANDFOLD STRIKE
And with her meagre blow come a thousand more, from all angles and places and times. It is true enough that a mere martial arts technique would stand no chance against a Godmodder. But this is no single martial arts technique. It's all the martial arts techniques. Some blows come from strange direction, going around the armour. Others are blows that strike not through space but time. Still others are...just...really, really strong. There is the Seeping Fist, with power that pierces through the smallest of gaps. There is the Presumed Blow, which has already struck you, even as you realise that that is clearly impossible. There is the Punch That Hits You When You Least Expect It, which...huh. It's not here. Never mind that one, I guess.
Regardless, all of these attacks are here, and all of them come simultaneously. How shall the Godmodder respond? "Anfini" observes keenly, eager to find out.
"Anfini" catches the +1 in midair, storing it in a pocket.
My thanks, mysterious omnipresent force. ...Shall we test that omnipresence of yours?
She points at a star.
Now orbiting that star is your due compensation. Claim it, if you can.
The star grows brighter yet, and seems larger as well.
The Shadows'' Regards: [3/4]
OOC: Don't worry. In reality, all our PCs are of equal strength. The general tradition is that being near a Godmodder gives you the power to fight them in itself? Don't know if Crimtane's kept that around but it feels like a safe bet.
You unleash the Thousandfols Strike on Zamiar, who is standing like Senator Armstrong throughout the entire attack. Going around the armor fails when there is armor everywhere. Temporal punches make him rattle, but fail to pierce his Gordian Knot of a personal timeline. The Seeping Fist finds no purchase. The Presumed blow has his eyes widen a tad... but nothing happens. "Flaw with those sorts of attacks." "They don't work when you presume they won't do damage." "Can't blame you, though. It's a rare counter to find."
Fumph. The impact of a child against the floor can be heard, the coliseum rung by her presence as the infection of the Descendant / Adventurer / Whatever it is for this adventure, as well as the combination of her actual scale of power, rends through the nearby area.
A girl with a massive, star-peppered afro, a bear-themed hoodie, green backpack covered in pins and stickers, and cute little green boots stood up. She looks around at where she is, and a pendant is able to slip out of her jacket - one attached to a glowing, orange stone. She's kept it through every universe she's been through, even if it's kind of defunct now. Shame to her really.
".. Where.. am I? Why's a weird big soldier dude in front of me?"
Entry: Molly Blyndeff, Holder of the Burbus Soul Stone.
Oh- She needs to, do things here- Oh, noooo, she barely knows what she has to do, but she knows that's probably some big evil guy, and she gave herself the epithet Epithet WHY? Oh, wait, right, keeps her able to do all of those things. Screw it, RANDOM THING GO!
[ EPITHET: ABSTERSIVE ]
Molly runs up and points a hand out to one of the golems, opting to just play support, acting like it's her usual epithet with Hushabye .. and the golems around her feel themselves becoming cleansed. Washing away into shreds of dirt.
[ Augment: 1 / 50 ]
A shred of her epithet power flings to someone random. ( +1 to Claim )
Welcome to the game! As per request, putting you [AG]
You scrub away one of the Golems! The remaining one, deciding it would much rather live, gets up and starts walking away! "HEY! I NEVER GAVE YOU PERMISSION TO LEAVE!"
Ahugefigurecladinglowingwhitearmorfallsfromthesky,landingononeofthegolemswithastompattack. Hebackflips (a surprising move given his size and bulk) tostandafairdistanceawaywithhisarmscrossed.
The figure is a guardian of some kind. For what (and when), there's not a reason to know right now. Five long prongs stick out of the sides of his helmet, and where his face would be is a blackness filled with twinkling stars. A few large spikes made of the same darkness stick out of his back in seemingly random places.
He isn't carrying any weapons.
Welcome to the game! Placing you as [AG] for now.
You crush the fleeing Golem! "Could this day get ANY WORSE?!"
The Punch The Hits When You Least Expect It knocks the air out of him. "...Yes.... yes it can...."
Subtly, a Drone floats into the battlefield, its lights are dim and it floats... very simply, only going in straight lines
Then it detects HIM, The Fabrication Drone returns to full Power and Activity as it turns to scan the Battlefield.
The Angular Drone then Flies to the gathered AG's and Immediately a Holographic representation of a Wall appears, then beams shoot out from the AG Drone's Glowing Blue "Eye".
The Beam Fabricates the Wall, building it up with each sweep, the Wall looks incomplete because it has corners on the ends that lead to nowhere, the Fabrication Drone will probably continue building next turn.
[Attack Drone Factory 1/4]
The Drone Charges its energy to build up a Factory
+1 to @Fluxxation in the form of the Fabrication Drone making a Power Cell that it then sends to the other Metal Individual with a Glowing Blue Optic
A man with a luchador mask runs into the coliseum.
He strikes a pose, realizes nobody is looking at him, coughs and does it again. "Zamiar! You killed my father's mother's sister's long lost half brother's pet's uncle's coworker's soda machine! I am the vengeance that will banish you for this wrongdoing!"
The luchador charges up an attack. "Say your prayers, villain! This attack is powered by my baseball card collection that is roughly equivalent in value to 10 thousand dollars!"
He lunges towards Zamiar...
And accidentally hits a rock. "Hmph, maybe it was for the best. You see, that attack, if aimed correctly, is powerful enough to stop someone's he-" 「 ULTIMATE DEATH BARRAGE 」
The luchador is defeated in an instant. 「 SUCH LACKLUSTER TECHNIQUES. MANKIND HAS SURELY DECLINED IN THE LAST TEN THOUSAND YEARS. 」
The rock looks at the Minor Earth Golems. 「 YOU BELIEVE YOU CAN IMITATE MY POWER WITH THESE CONSTRUCTS. DESPICABLE. THIS WORLD SHALL BE CLEANSED. 」 "Zamiar! cough cough This is the last of my power! Use it! You're cough our world's only hope!"
The luchador lacklusterly throws some baseball cards into the air and falls to the ground.
The rock slowly moves towards Zamiar. The air grows dense. Zamiar finds it hard to stand. The rock's power ripples through dimensions. 「 YOU ARE A GODMODDER. I'VE SEEN BETTER. YOU WILL NOT BE ENOUGH TO- 」
The rock steps on something. It is. A pair of scissors. 「 GAH! THE- THE PROPHECY OF ROCK PAPER SCISSORS BUT IN REVERSE?! BUT- BUT I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST A MYTH! 」
The rock explodes into a massive aurora. The world is saved.
...
But not without sacrifice. The soda machine. The luchador. Those scissors. Surely Zamiar believes that their deaths are all his fault. The guilt. It burdens him for years. Eventually, though, he realizes that he couldn't have done anything to save them, they'd want him to move on, to be happy. He looks to the sky and smiles, ready to truly live again.
Zamiar, rather than call you crazy, strikes a pose as well! "Fool! You may never best me, not without the power of your precious soda!"
Zamiar prepares to counter... but you hit a rock instead. "...That was underwhelming."
The rock grows as a threat. You give Zamiar the last of power to protect everyone. Zamiar picks up the cards and tears them in half. "Rest, mighty warrior. You did well."
The rock blows themself up by accident. The weight of this interaction rests upon Zamiar. Can he truly say he won? How can he be a Godmodder when he just saved the world? "What the hell just happened?!"
Oh, I guess it didn't weigh on him, then.
Zamiar is now destined to slip on a banana peel several years from now.
The Wall is a Wall.
The Zombie Catgirl, not having anything else to attack, claws at the Wall! It suffers 300 damage!
Zamiar looks at how his amazing creations all died. "..."
Zamiar pulls out a brick, which on closer inspection has been modified to be a phone. "They have arrived. You know what to do."
Zamiar throws away the brick, and there is the sound of something clawing. Specifically, from below you, as several Undead rise from the earth. Zamiar leans over to Nyatalie. "Consider this a benefit of being on my side."
Under some of the rubble, it sounds like someone is stuck!
Undead: Abilities that trigger upon an Entities death or by killing an Entity do not trigger.
GOALS: [AG]: Defeat Zamiar! [N]: Achieve your own desires! [PG]: Assist Zamiar!
TERRAIN: AuraOfUndead
-The earth reeks of necromatic energies. Every turn, summons an arbitrary amount of Undead creatures. The power of these creatures increases the longer this Terrain lasts!
-Given form by the Brick Phone. Disappears when it dies.
Filar [5/13]
(From Sylveone46 and from O.R.I.G.I.N)
---
Hm. Perversion of life itself. Why it feels so familiar.
The appendages that form the Vessel's legs and arms split into two. Then another two. Then another two. Up until they're thin and sharp, like needles about to stab their target.
They promptly crack their neck at the Nekomancer, sprinting with tiny needles towards the rubble. Well well. Supporting your foe. They shall consider themselves lucky that I won't immediately attack them.
Back at the rubble, they merge the appendages into shovel-like hands, and start hurling the debris away from the trapped one... and straight into the Brick Phone.
"..."
Silence comes out, the many pebbles suddenly accelerating with the remaining needle-like appendages poking them like if they were hit with a cue and they were balls.
Straight into the phone with intent of destroying it with a barrage of rocky projectiles.
".t..."
They click, they hold out a spare hunk of metal... and they quickly inscribe a prayer to the Almighty to it with intention of helping the believer find their LORD. (+1 to O.R.I.G.I.N)
"tk...tk...tk..."
They click thrice, menacingly, as if to scare the rest of the undead away from the rubble.
Zamiar takes a very exaggerated bow at your presence. "I'm so happy to be of entertainment. But please, this show is interactive!"
"Come down from your high horse and I'll give you a show."
She grasps it amidst her claws. It disappears in a flourish of dappled blues and grays, as if.. simply removed.
“Your cooperation has been accounted for. Consider yourself under my protection.”
She lazily lifts a hand, the air behind her shifting as a larger machine, built of dark grey, sharp plates, drops heavily beside her throne, kneeling, one fist to the ground, the other stiffly at its side. It’s offline.
The canister appear and cracks open over its shoulder, a very, very dim cyan light emerging from its frame. (Using the allied charge)
She nods towards the machine again, thick wires and cables snapping out from the thin air to connect with clicks and hisses to all parts of its body. It jolts slightly, charging further.
2/50 - Eschaton
She flicks her other hand towards the drone.. and it feels.. alive. Not in an energy sense, nor a literal one. It feels protected, safe, encouraged. Cyan strings, neither tangible nor perceivable, wrap around the drone for a moment, as if held in a helping hand.
The Mother’s will lies upon the drone, and such protection is reassuring indeed. ( +1 Charge back to @Robot # 207 :] )
Damage is done to the Godmodder, but truly, Who can be satisfied by a single damage, and What will they do after?
There now exists a Wall in the colosseum. It quite brings to mind a similarly-named individual; a foe to a peculiar arachnid-themed do-gooder. Memorable boasts to their name includes "NO ONE CAN STOP THE WALL!" and "HERE'S ONE WALL [SPIDERMAN]'LL NEVER CRAWL!" The first boast, of course, is disagreeable. Nothing is absolute, and the Wall will eventually be stopped. The second, well, they only claim it is Spiderman who will never crawl them.
Then, tell me, Who can crawl the Wall? As well, Who will eventually stop the Wall?
Of course, the Wall is not in this Colosseum. There is only a Wall. Now, tell me, Who will have honed their Wall-crawling skill and then be satisfied crawling over an inferior Wall? Who will gain gratification stopping the smaller Wall?
What is being charged? [3/10]
Who would dare share the same affiliation as the Machine? Who would dare gaze upon she who sits upon a hovering throne? Who would dare mistake a spear chucked at her to be a welcoming gift? (+1 to @Fluxxation)
"Full crowd today, huh? This is what I'm seeking, kinda. It's my first time making remixing for many instead to just myself. Hope to get some criticisms and praises for it, nothing too special."
TRANSITION TO CHARGES!/UNLEASH THE ACTION(S)!
"Now if you excuse me, I gotta wait for a delivery. I told them to follow where I went, and this seems to be the final stop for the package..." Up in the sky is a enormous container, held on by 8 flying drones (they are unrelated to the fabrication drone by the way, because ). In the center of the side facing up is a postman, who with the wave of a hand gives the command to drop the thing. Said postman leaps off first to the ground, landing in poise and getting the dj's signature, which was written as 'Candy Dandy.'
(NEEEEEEEOOOOoooow... SPLAT!) The box proceeds soon after somewhere in the enviroment, smashing a shamblers (or more if the guy dungeon mastering this game allows it) in the process. The postman is obviously horrified... at the fact the box didn't land with 'this side up's' arrow pointing the necessary direction. The delivery drones push it to the right direction, and thankfully nobody was hurt, except that unfortunate zombie(s?). With the job done, the drones coordinate to make a platform for the postman to sit on, and all nine go off to make another dispatch somewhere else.
"Ah, there's everything I need, right there." She spends the rest of the turn walking to the colossal parcel, and scratching up a free charge to anyone who can claim it. (2/80)
A vibrating sound can be heard. Almost like an "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA". Strange.
More strangely, it doesn't seem to be originating from any single point in space.
Or perhaps it is... just one that's higher. Whatever the case, it lends it a somewhat echoing effect.
Ah, the screaming's getting... closer? Even more curio- oh that's a lot of blood.
Ahem. For those of you unaware or staring in other directions, a mass of gore seems to have splattered itself onto a nearby pillar.
And oddly, it's reknitting itself as we speak. A blood elemental, perhaps?
"Aaaaah... ha... hahahahaha!" It takes on a somewhat-scarecrowish form, and continues (..?) laughing manically.
"I've just made the most incredible discovery! Did you know that some people... have more ontological weight?"
Another voice comes, also not originating from any single point in space. The echoing seems somewhat more... at home with them.
"Red Faith, what are you talking about? And... who are all these people? What- what happened here?"
The Sage of Red Faith continues talking, apparently deaf to his companion.
"You see, these people, in addition to having great reality-warping strength, are also unable to be defeated in one hit."
"It takes many different, unique powersets and people to defeat them, and even still it's a siege rather than a stomp."
"They're called Godmodders! And-" "Um. Do you see who you're standing next to?"
Red Faith rotates his 'eyes' in a full circle around his 'head', and stops abruptly upon seeing Zamiar.
"What luck! There's one right here! Pleased to meet you, whoever-you-are! I'm the Sage of Red Faith."
"And I'm going to build a Godmodder."
Absolute silence falls.
"...he's, um, exaggerating. (I hope.) It'll be versatile, able to counter somewhat, and potentially deal Godmodder damage... but it's not going to be a Godmodder."
"...you can call me Four, the Higher One! Not much higher, though. Heh."
[these brackets will contain all my OOC notes! bit different than what I used to do, but if we're putting charges in these...]
[anyways, my meeple are [N]. Attack them, help them, do whatever! Do talk to them, though.]
[Four's real name is the Four Dimensional Thing. Don't see any point in not mentioning that, y'all will figure that out in about two seconds.]
[It does give you an instant win condition against me, though. Please don't use it?]
[+1 to anyone who +1s me. Currently: "Anfini".]
[Foundation: 3/4] [CAPTAIN OF ALL SOULS: 0/4] +1 naturally, +1 from O.R.I.G.I.N., +1 from Anfini.
"Aha! I see, a rare technoflora of the species trappydoom clickything! I have no idea why that guy called them that."
"The obvious course of action in this case is- did you disassemble it already, Four?" There is a guilty-sounding unsound.
"Um. Well. Maybe it still works?" Red Faith presses it hopefully.
"There's always another secret."
[Oh, and my action. Didn't think I'd forget about that, did you?]
[...this is perhaps not the most clever way to hide it. Whatever! It's meant to be seen! By table, at least. But other people too!]
[stupid invisitext not existing on terrariaforums...]
[The point of a deterrent is that people will notice it, but I found this cool trick and I need to use it.]
Anyways, the Four Dimensional Thing shuffles around their internal workings in preparation.
If Zamiar, or one of his entities, or even one of the others, attacks them, the Higher One will make a quick judgement on who's actually at fault, coordinate, and strike.
(Zamiar specifically if it's one of his entities. And hopefully the attack's flavor is enough to at least stagger someone else.)
First, Red Faith will convert the target's blood to his own.
This renders it subject to his own internal authority, preventing any attempts to control it.
Plus, it lets Red Faith heat bits of the blood to plasma, and cool other parts to absolute zero. Fun!
(If it's a bloodless foe, Red Faith will use his own authority over blood (all, not his own specifically) to forcibly convert them into a biological organism. This will, of course, be painful.)
And Four won't be idle, either!
At the same time as Red Faith's assault, higher-dimensional homing missiles will already have arrived, detonating straight [above] and straight [below] (hyperdimensionally) the aggressor! This will be rather more dangerous than normal explosives. You need to set up your own 4D armor just to not have it pierce immediately to your vitals, and if you try to use the fact that 3D is [sharper] than 4D... well, that's only the edges, isn't it?
And these aren't just normal hyperdimensional missiles, either. The Four Dimensional Thing is all biotech, rendering Red Faith's blood authority completely applicable to them! These missiles drip with corrosive blood (which is the other counter for 3D sharpness), and their payload is of various splinters of 4D bone clipped into each other by an enemy reality-warper, ready to explode outwards as soon as their physics engine registers. Deals piercing damage, collision damage, and blast damage too, plus they're coated with corrosive blood because of course. Mere Blast Resistance isn't going to suffice against this thing. The biotech is also how their homing works (and it's advanced enough to work on robots, or clones, with a bit of sage advice.) Plus, regeneration!
...this attack shall have to do. Surprisingly difficult to do a Godmodder attack when your characters can only act physically.
(The Sage has some more tricks, though. And hopefully Four will too.)
Wait wait wait. His name is Zamiar, not "Zalimar?" Wow. Would you believe me if I told you I totally misread that? I guess I need to install myself a new EyeOS. Any suggestions?
Berrun Prique has now been blessed with several more holes in his ugly face. Aaah. Sweet catharsis. I'm glad me and Zalimar can at least agree on one thing, because boy oh boy are we never coming to an understanding about this chucklehead's name.
"PRAISE!"
No, I don't think that's his name either.
[ACTION]
Despite his new- uh... "cosmetic surgery?" "Face piercings?" "Soup holes?" ...You know what, I'm just gonna call it how I see it. Despite the fact that his face is now more swiss cheese than it is smiling monk, Berrun pops to his feet, brushing off the marble dust of that wall he just exploded into.
"PRAISE THE LORD!" he exclaims, still not noticing that he should be DEAD. Like, REALLY DEAD. "I CAN FEEL IT WITH ME EVEN NOW!" You know, at this point, I'm not sure he's feeling anything other than the bullets in his brain. "!PRAISE IT!"
Berrun hefts his massive TV Remote over his shoulder and marches back into the battlefield. He looks at the zombies. Then he looks at Zalimar. Then he looks at- No. Nonono. NOOO! "!!PRAISE IT!!"
Somehow, Berrun Prique, in all of his negative perception, manages to notice the person stuck under the rubble. *sigh* I am not ready for this. He marches up to the broken patch of stone, swinging around his remote to ward off demons or something. IDK. He almost hits The Vessel up-side the head with it, but thankfully, THE LORD is merciful. It is too early for us to be starting any PVP.
"STOP!" Berrun shouts, leveling his TV Remote at the pile of rubble. "STRUGGLE NO MORE!! THE LORD HAS BLESSED ME WITH ITS DIVINE VISION, AND IT HAS SENT ME HERE TO SAVE YOU FROM YOUR PERILOUS STRIFE!!!" Every time he adds another exclamation mark to his sentence, I have to sell another 0.001 decibels of my voice to The DEV!L. When I started out, I thought that was a bargain. Now...
Like the true hero he isn't, Berrun strikes a pose, his brown robes licking at the wind. He starts screaming something totally incoherent. Well- more incoherent than usual, I mean. His thumb hovers dramatically over his remote's Big Red Button.
"!!THE LORD SHALL GIVE YOU ALL THAT YOU DESIRE!!"
Like a meteor falling upon an ancient world, Berrun's finger strikes the button and-
*click*
The rubble just... opens. Like- like a door. The rubble- it's flat now. Painted onto something?? I'm so lost. I thought Berrun was holding a TV Remote. This is clearly garage door opener behavior.
The rubble swings open on a pair of sparkling new hinges, hopefully releasing the person trapped within. Or- maybe not, because the first thing Berrun's gonna scream at them is "!!!PRAISE!!!"
[CHARGE]
PRAISE IT: [03/12] (+1 from Vella. (Translated, the inscription reads "I'm right here, dummy."))
A mysterious red button appears in Red Faith's charge pool. Will they press it? (+1 to @DragonAegis) ((DON'T DO IT!!))
Nyatailie looks over the variety of undead arrayed before her. Admittedly she's rather jealous, her ability to summon things is... Lackluster at best. That said, you can't get better at something without practice.
Nyatailie swings her staff around, somehow bringing another Zombified Catgirl to the battlefield.
Who would dare share the same affiliation as the Machine? Who would dare gaze upon she who sits upon a hovering throne? Who would dare mistake a spear chucked at her to be a welcoming gift? (+1 to @Fluxxation)
"My dear friends. Your continued support means much... I have decided to raise our collective goal, though, I assure you, it'll be worth the wait.. hmhmhm~"
With the first visible effort she's seemed to exert whilst here, a clawed hand reaches up, catching against the air as it curls, dragging back down. Pulling ethereal strings.
The body of "ESCHATON" is crushed underfoot, essence dissipating as it flows into the frame of a machine many, many times larger and broader, still bearing the hunched, previous stance, ten hollow, symmetrical lenses, and dark-grey plates.
One of the lower lenses flickers with a hint of cyan cold.
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