[OP-F29] Ope wide the gates! (Post Raid Thread)

[Freyd 0]

Emerging from the portal like a thousand past shadows porting through the void, a familiar stranger reformed mere moments after his departure.  Brows furrowed farther than their usual range.  Barely a thing had changed, yet...

"I left here hours ago.  Why are they still all standing or wandering about the starting area?"  Summoning his interface was no help.  Quite the opposite, in fact.  The clock read wrong.  Not off, but utterly wrong, in the nonsensical sense.  Irreconcilable digits, unreadable glyphs, non-sequential series jumping randomly or even backwards.  "Is this floor out of phase with the rest of the castle?"

Thunder boomed overhead, denial firm and followed in reverse by flashing lightning that should have preceded, yet chose not to or was forbidden by erroneous code.  Distant clashing of swords, not too far away, had his hand reach for his blade to find it already grasped and drawn. He'd appeared with it, ready for the worst.  No safe zone meant easy prey for the unsuspecting if PKers took hold of their beachhead. 

"Hirru seems to have the right idea."  The Vice-Commander already setting up an outpost of some kind.  Or a future field hospital.  Other players wandered warily about in groups.  Probably wise, yet here he was standing alone in the blighted square.  "Who's your friend," he called out, pointed to the purple-clad NPC.  "I appreciate his fashion sense." A nod to anyone with cowling sensibilities. "I assume he isn't local?"  That alone was already surprising.  It wasn't common to see mobs migrate between floors.  Even mentioning the concept seemed taboo in some circles.

Pulling up his own hood against the ever-dreary downpour offered little respite.  Moving closer to the standing torch likewise offered no warmth.  This place seemed to drain any attempt to retain it, likely along with any cheer.

"Make sure you bring cookies - like, real ones.  Good ones.  None of those fakes with raisins posing as chocolate chips.  Honey buns would also work.  I can hook you up with a supplier, if it will help."

"Faaaaaaaaakessssssss..."

Head spun sideways like a high torque power drill on max output, Freyd felt his heart leap like it wanted to change places with his stomach.  Sword spinning at pace, it clanged with a rusty, unlit lamp post at his side, sparking enough to shower and offer a glimpse of something behind glass in a facing shop.  Grasping the hilt with his second hand to steady his pulse and ideally avoid stabbing anyone who accidentally or foolishly spooked him, his head shifted right to glance again.  There was a face inside, blurred by constant drizzle and built up crud upon the pane.  Three careful steps forward brought it into focus through the rain: a white porcelain mask with fine gold filigree glared back, framed by the outline of his  own reflected, trademarked cowl.  Like he was wearing it.  Confused, Freyd drew back a single hand from the hilt, watching it close with the mirrored image, but finding flesh and freshly spawned hair from the raid instead.

What the... how?

Tilting right granted necessary revelation.  The mask was behind the glass, somehow pristine despite the destitute state of their surroundings.

What are the chances that the angles would fall just right for that to happen?  How would such a thing even have survived?

A door slammed shut in response, probably not because of the absent wind. Looking down, he found his shadow leaning towards Hirru's light, as if to poke it for amusement, its umbral outline openly defying convention, let alone his unorthodox control.

"Oh... this place is going to be a problem."

Edited December 30, 2024 by Freyd

[Jomei 0]

The gentle brush of fingertips across a shoulder is what caused the tremble to cease. A recognizable, soft touch of cold, steel plated hands. He had survived. They had survived, that was all that mattered. He did his job, and he should be proud of that. Pushing himself up to his feet, he would unfurl the cloak that bunched behind him and stepped forth to join the others.

–

There was that undying, frontliner spirit. Not even an hour had passed since Callisto’s defeat, and they were already met with another round of danger. Most would retreat to safer grounds to tend their wounds and rest up for another day. Instead, the valiant fighters knew that they were the only ones aware of the lack of a safe zone on this floor. So, whether they liked it or not, it was back to work. Baldur went ahead and paired off a couple of teams to patrol the perimeter and clear out any monsters that could pose a risk to any unsuspecting players portalling in. A familiar face was pointed in his direction. 

“Ah, Arabelle.” he would offer a kind smile and nod of her head. “You’re too kind, thank you. It was my honor to be your shield” droplets of water would fall from the edges of his hood as he bowed his head in respect. “You fought bravely as well.. Almost seemed like an entirely different person if I’m being honest.” a slight chuckle, a hint of nervousness behind it. “Just admiring your laser focus on the battle, is all. In terms of the others, no, I didn’t see which way they headed. Lessa tagged along with Baldur and Acanthus but.. the others, not yet. Can’t say I know enough about the other three to know where their heads are at.”

They had seen floors ravaged by war, others dealing with corruption in same shape or form. This felt completely different.. “I don’t like this..” Jomei would speak in a whisper, barely audible over the persistent drumming of rain. “There’s not a soul around.. I don’t see any bodies but..” he would sigh, “Something in my gut says no one made it out of here..” Perhaps he was mistaken, however, as motion from a nearby body caught their attention. They stood in the entryway to what remained of a house, or shop.. He could not tell by the disarray. Their breathing haggard and heavy, wounded possibly? Before that thought could be put to action, Arabelle pointed out the obvious.

The floating red marker above their head. They weren’t human, or at least.. Not anymore. 

“Do what you must.” Jomei would nod towards Arabelle. “I’ll keep his eyes off of you, you go in for the kill.” 

After Arabelle's scythe would cleave through the creature, it would quickly turn to face the two. Definitely not a person, more of some insect-like monstrosity. At least he felt a bit better about ending its life now. Taking his rapier from his belt, he would press the tip into the dirt before flicking it up into the horrendous creature's face. Did it even have eyes? Hopefully it was enough to catch its attention while Ara finished it off. 

Focused Howl -> +6 Hate - 4 EN

[1]Arabelle | HP: 680/680 | EN: 93/106 | DMG: 23 | MIT: 20 | ACC: 3 | EVA: 1 | FLN: 8 (6-8) | BLI: 32 (9-10); -20 MIT / 2 | BLD: 48 (9-10) | RSK: 8 | BH: 5% | VD: 10% | HB: 4% | LD: 5 | [RSK]

[6] Jomei | HP: 960/960 | EN: 130134 | DMG: 21 | MIT: 44 | ACC:3 | TAUNT | F-SPIRIT | EVA:4 | BH:53 | HB: 42 | VAMP-D: 106 | BLI: 32/-20  | LD:1 CD 1/2, 1/4

Shambler | HP: 63/408 | DMG: 136

[Morningstar 0]

He cocked his head, seeing the last moments of Crozeph's monstrous counterattack. He was vicious, but effective. He cleaved through the stunned Deep Ones with quick strokes of his katana, a brutal show compared to Star's own merciful display.

As his partner cleaned up the fish-frogs on his end, Morningstar did the same. Into his inventory went a slimy, dark green leg. He sent it to Cro, happy to give away the disgusting sample. "I think it's supposed to be food. I'm sure Baldur will love the gift."

He was hesitant to move too close to the water. The waves rocked what few boats were left tied to the docks. Consistently between them were ripped sails, and Star hypothesized the wind to be the cause. His boots carried him to the edge of one dock, and he peered over the edge. Opaque water stared him in the face. Undiscerning, he twisted off the cap of a tiny vial and filled it to the brim with seawater.

To his luck, nothing reached out and pulled him in. He reckoned the Black itself was no monster. "Here," Star said. "Another sample."

---

-> POST ACTION: TECH-F vs Deep One 2-3

Spoiler

Morningstar gains +4 EN
ID239514 | CD: 5 | Recovery Failed

ID239509 | bd8+6=14 | 22+16*12 = 456 DMG -> Deep One 2
ID239510 | bd3+6=9 | 22*12 = 264 DMG + Stun -> Deep One 3

EN: -12

Morningstar | HP: 840/840 | EN: 96/120 | DMG: 22 | EVA: 4 | ACC: 5 | BH: 43 | LD: 6 | REC: 8 | FLN: 16 | AA | PARA-V
Crozeph | 800/800 | EN: 85/102 | DMG: 20 | MIT: 44 | ACC: 4 | EVA: 2 | FLN: 16 | PHASE

Deep One 2 | HP: 0/600 | DMG: 140
Deep One 3 | HP: 0/600 | DMG: 140

 

Looting:

ID239510 | LD: 10+6+16 | CD: 2
ID239511 | LD: 5+6+11 | CD: 8

7,200 col
2 mats
T4 Rare Consumable 239510a
T4 Rare Consumable 239510b
 

 

[Arabelle 0]

she cuts her---

it open from-

shoulder to torso--

it staggers, breath heaving, inches an agonized step from the door towards jomei's silent taunt; its three limbs are twisted in all the wrong ways and it fruitlessly attempts to feel about its chest for the measure of the inflicted wound, and from the neck up, a muddied scarf spilling to the ground, its head is an insect's, membrane and exoskeleton sewn into human skin. a thin reedy whine whistles from its throat. the last sound it ever makes before the woman crushes its offending head with the blunt of her scythe.

it falls to the ground and arabelle cheerfully drops to a kneel beside it.

"a shambler," she reads from the status line. "far from a fish person unless part of this floor's features is that insects populate the ocean now. but she's only our first mob. i wonder how she came to be, then." curious, she tries to lean in and peer closer but a second's glimpse is all she gets before the creature's form fragments and bursts into light shards. arabelle pokes through its remains, then, picking them off the ground and matching them with her recall of the thing's appearance. "weapon," a sheathed dagger that would have been clipped to the once-human's waist, "weapon," a similarly short blade that had skewered its right wrist, "hm? a..." she holds the last one up as though to align herself with a light source, but the pallid night's rain does her no favors. it takes her longer to identify this one from the thin pointed metal coil and the wooden handle it is speared through. "wine opener? the type that stabs corks. i guess this is pointy enough. dagger or throwing weapon," she dismissively concludes.

any old person of this time and place could have owned these. and if she wanted to appraise the drops any further, it would have to be done at her shop. arabelle stands up, returning to her partner. "the poor thing. it looked scary but it fought like a regular mob. dropped the same old loot, too, though i don't have the full line-up of boons to test if it might go further than that. actually, i'm surprised it didn't fight back harder! i had her on the ground in--"

she had lifted her hand to hold down the edge of her hood when her long sleeve, slashed open, parted like two limp petals. a long, gaping wound from the outside edge of her wrist to her shoulder greets both of their sights, and her nerves awaken with pain, the green of her health bar ticking upwards to make up for a loss.

at her feet lies a severed hand with a nail twice the length of its index finger.

arabelle pouts. "i didn't notice that."

---

-> POST ACTION: AOE-II vs Shambler.

Spoiler

PASSIVE: 34 + 27 + 0 (239527: CD 1) = +61 HP
PASSIVE: +4 EN

POST ACTION: AOE-II vs Shambler [14 + (2 * 1) = -16 EN]
239528: BD 9: (23 + 1 + 8) * 18 = 576 DMG -> Shambler

Arabelle | HP: 625/680 | EN: 81/106 | DMG: 23 | MIT: 20 | ACC: 3 | EVA: 1 | FLN: 8 (6-8) | BLI: 32 (9-10); -20 MIT / 2 | BLD: 48 (9-10) | RSK: 8 | BH: 34 | VD: 10% | HB: 27 | LD: 5 | [RSK]
Jomei | HP: 960/960 | EN: 130/134 | DMG: 21 | MIT: 44 | ACC:3 | TAUNT | F-SPIRIT | EVA:4 | BH:53 | HB: 42 | VAMP-D: 106 | BLI: 32/-20  | LD:1 CD 1/2, 1/4

Shambler | HP: 0/408 | DMG: 136

---

LOOTING: Shambler
239529: LD 20 + 5 = 25: CD 6: 408 * (3 + 4 + 7) = 5,712 Col; 3 T4 Perfect Weapons

 

Edited December 31, 2024 by Arabelle

[Hirru 0]

There was much to take care of and start to do to make this place a semi-safe zone for the front lines and the players that would dare to come up.  It would be have to be secure in most ways.  They did not need a breach where the mobs could easily get in and harm anyone within.  They would need room and board.  This building wasn't quite able to accommodate that, but this is what they would have for now until scouts and the others can come back with some useful areas to start setting up checkpoints and better rest stops.

Hirru would turn to hear the familiar voice that differed quite from the torrential rain, but would probably be a storm in of itself.  The owner of the voice was calling to him, but the individual was barely recognizable.  If the hunter had not known what had happened not a few hours before, then he would think this someone new.  No, this one was a friend.  No matter how much they change, nor what happens to them.  They would always be..

"Freyd!"

The hunter would call out to the oddly different looking man.  On much closer inspection, the whisperer could turn quite a head.  Even more so than before.  The gruff look seemed to work better for him, but the hair..  What made it go white like that?  Far too pallid for the someone so lively.  The grand adventurer would inquire about the Mysterious Merchant and his attire before coming closer to the <Emerald Flame>.

"Ah, that's the Merchant.  He's the NPC that takes care of the travelling shop, and taught me how to appraise.  I more or less help guard the shop, but it doesn't need much with a giant chameleon stealing lunches."

He would say as the blurred silhouette of the chameleon would slowly get out of the rain and try to get into an opportune position.

"I can summon him and the shop with the torch, but the reach is limited.  Can't do so too far away from a teleporter or safe zone."

The purple hooded NPC would look back when he was 'introduced' for only a few moments to address the new 'customer' on the topic of 'consumables'.  A small glint from beneath the cowl would have the NPC doing their thing.

"Ah, an Appraiser!  Our wares are not available at the moment, but we may talk trade in time, stranger."

"Quite an eye, as always."

He would say before shaking his head and looking back to the man that brushed with death not too long ago.

"Never mind that!  Are you doing.."

It was then that Freyd had swung at something nearby.  His speed was just as exact as he had been many times before during combat, but the hunter did not sense anything nearby.  Sending another ping out, the hunter would make sure that he wasn't being fooled by anything that was hiding.  Many things were nearby, but most were being taken care of several meters way by the perimeter and recon groups.  No, the issue seemed to be something that only Freyd could see.  He would not question it, but he ensuing sparks would scare Liz out of her camouflage.  In all of their interactions, Freyd had never looked more off.  

[Crozeph 0]

He caught the sample. It seems he and Morningstar managed to scout the area and dispatch of a few creatures along the way. Crozeph looted them one by one and it seems the disintegration to pixels of data was slow "shouldn't these creatures explode right away line piñatas?" he asked Morningstar. Crozeph bent his knees to stare at the slow disintegration "weird but maybe we should report this to Baldur too?"

Crozeph opened his HUD and opened the mail, intending to report their findings to help his guild leader with what info they can gather 

Quote

To: @Baldur

We're near the sea, Lucifer is quite dependable. We'll walk further and see if we can find anything. Also we killed a few tilapia guys and they don't explode after death but rather burn away like paper

He closed the mail system and took one good gaze at the sea. Others may not see the beauty of such lack of color where the light shines. He deeply believed the world has always been dichromatic, people adds color to it through who they are "heh, Yuki..." he snickered. He turned his head to his companion "let's go Lucifer, think we can go near the other end of this area? hopefully we can-"

Where are my childf̸'̵ ̵m̶g̶a̸h̵'̷e̴h̴y̷e̵ ̵n̷o̸g̸e̶p̷h̶a̷i̸i̶ ̶h̸u̸p̸ ̶g̶n̷'̸t̴h̷
Aḧ̵̻̪̠́͜h̷̝̣̆̃̎ ̷̣̞̍̇ŷ̶̤̣̦m̵̟̝͎͓̃́̐g̸̞̜͒͠'̸̡̛̛̞͎̞ ̴̝͕̲̑̇͗̔͜a̶̡̞̞͕̒̒̚h̶̰̳̪̩̽̌͐ ̷̧̠̃̓̂l̵͖̂̊̅̇i̷̜͋̓̽̅k̴̹̳̭̬̿́ë̸͓́̿͒ ̴͇͓͑̑f̵̛͎ă̴͕ẖ̶̙͔̑f̵̝̊̿̽̔ to my children?"

"Children?" Crozeph saw it, a woman-like figure towered behind Morningstar probably after he handed the sample to Crozeph, a creature coming out of the sea. She had six arms, two of it replaced where legs and feet should be. A tattered dress, pale skin that seemed to have been soaked deep water for so long, wrinkles visible on her neck and forearms. "The fuck? dude behind you!" he yelled, they got careless two arms reached out fast to Crozeph elongated and thin like feet of birds and tried to slam him on his back. He managed to pull Ereshkigal and deflected the arms, Morningstar not so lucky. A two-hand backhanded slap was delivered to his companions sending him flying. "Damn it!" Crozeph dashed towards him, intending to break the distance but as soon as he darted more than a feet, the creatures head split open. veins, muscles, flesh, holding it together from head to jaw. Two sides snapped back together and then it split again but this time from ear to ear then joined again. 

As Crozeph saw it, his vision spiraled, instead of catching Morningstar his back struck Crozeph's head. The raven-haired swordsman spun mid-air before landing on the ground, his vision filled with colors and continued to spiral. "Hey, tell me, is the woman still standing menacingly there?" he asked Morningstar

"My child---ren, let th---em ret----urn from t---he s----ea, whe---re are th-th-they?"

"fuck"

Morningstar | HP: 840/840 | EN: 96/120 | DMG: 22 | EVA: 4 | ACC: 5 | BH: 43 | LD: 6 | REC: 8 | FLN: 16 | AA | PARA-V
Crozeph | 800/800 | EN: 85/102 | DMG: 20 | MIT: 44 | ACC: 4 | EVA: 2 | FLN: 16 | PHASE

M̵͖̳̭̘͋͂̓͠ö̸̝͔͕̻́̃̈́̀t̸̖͂̾͆h̶̛̥̆̔e̵̫̟̗̱̅͘͘r̵̹̂̉̈ ̷̞̎̿̚o̴̰̬̱̍͐f̴͍͊͠ ̸̼̝̭̓S̵͎͚̜͐̈́͝m̸͚͒̏̚͘i̶̗͋̒͑l̶̤̝̈́͗̀͠é̸͖͍̥̲s̷͖͆̎͒͝ͅ  |  HP: ???/??? | DMG: ???

[Freyd 0]

Raising a brow at the Merchant's impromptu appraisal, Freyd did the same, but found nothing immediately unusual.

"Are you sure it's wise to have summoned him here? If there were ever any NPCs on this floor, something killed them all."  The face beneath its purple-hood halted and paled, its mask only capable of hiding so much.  "And no current access to stock?  That's rather interesting.  Ever had that happen before?" A few possibilities jumped into Freyd's mind, none of them good.

"Setting up a base camp is a good idea, Hirru.  But maybe one or two others should remain here with you at all times.  You're one of our best healers, but you'd be in a sore position if a couple of PKers ported in and tried to jump you."  The implication being that Freyd intended to remain here on guard and make sure precisely that would never happen. Not only was Hirru a friend, but one of the Frontlines' most valuable assets.  He also knew enough about the Vice Commander's past and curse to know that leaving him alone out here could be a very bad idea.

"Something's hinky with the connection to this floor too.  I left hours ago, from my perspective, but it feels like barely any time has passed since I left.  And my UI clock is having some sort of aneurism.  Are you having any trouble with yours?"

Freyd paced about the square casually as he talked, one hand on his sword hilt while the other picked up and discarded various bits of detritus strewn about the place.

"Whatever happened here was made to look sudden and recent, which begs the question of whether it actually did?  Was the floor just designed this way, or has something altered it?  Think on that.  If the latter is true, then some or all of the unlocked floors above us may also be active, developing at their own pace and living through content we simply cannot fathom yet, let alone its potential consequences.  The implications are staggering."

Noticing a small fallen doll, abandoned in the centre of the cobblestone field, Freyd stepped back and observed how the radiating pattern of the pavers' arrangement emanated from the point where it was dropped, which should have been impossible.  Lifting the doll, he turned it about and found what he had hoped for.  'Annie'.  The name stitched lovingly on her back, embroidery having survived where ink would have bled into obscurity.

"A name.  That might give us a place to start."  Peering into nearby shadow, abundant in this place, Freyd triggered tracking, wondering if there was somehow still an Annie to be found.  With luck, maybe the doll itself would serve as an anchor and tether to help forge an otherwise tenuous connection.

Edited yesterday at 03:00 AM by Freyd

[Morningstar 0]

His eyes flared. A haunting voice enveloped him from the sea. It was different from the whispers he heard in town. It was clear, but not directed towards either of the players. It spoke as if unaware of its surroundings at all. His feet betrayed him, glued to the dock.

Why can't I move?

Something struck his back hard, launching him straight into Crozeph. They tumbled together, slamming hard into cobblestone. His head pounded and his back ached, but he was otherwise okay. His gaze flicked towards their assailant. "Yeah. She's still there."

More worrisome was her missing health bar. He juggled their options, weighing the pros of staying and fighting. Blue crystals materialized in each of his hands. "Need one?" he offered a teleport crystal to Cro. "I don't like our odds, but we should limit test while we're here—we can bring back some info for the rest of the team. If it starts looking bad, we get the hell out and regroup."

The creature's deformed face inked itself into his mind. She was inhumanely tall with dripping black hair. Her blue-grey skin was wrinkled and waterlogged. She had a wide, crooked smile that never seemed to drop, and her words came in shrill croaks. 

"Let th---em ret----urn, let th---em ret----urn, let the-m ret-urn, letthemletthemlet—"

The boom of a sword art echoed off her deceptively sturdy body. Star grunted, shoved away by a grotesque arm. His attack hadn't even left a scratch on her. Her nameplate glitched above her head, the letters vanishing and reappearing over and over. Pixels spasmed up and down her slender frame, and from her throat came a horrifying scream.

Morningstar | HP: 840/840 | EN: 100/120 | DMG: 22 | EVA: 4 | ACC: 5 | BH: 43 | LD: 6 | REC: 8 | FLN: 16 | AA | PARA-V
Crozeph | 800/800 | EN: 85/102 | DMG: 20 | MIT: 44 | ACC: 4 | EVA: 2 | FLN: 16 | PHASE

M̵͖̳̭̘͋͂̓͠ö̸̝͔͕̻́̃̈́̀t̸̖͂̾͆h̶̛̥̆̔e̵̫̟̗̱̅͘͘r̵̹̂̉̈ ̷̞̎̿̚o̴̰̬̱̍͐f̴͍͊͠ ̸̼̝̭̓S̵͎͚̜͐̈́͝m̸͚͒̏̚͘i̶̗͋̒͑l̶̤̝̈́͗̀͠é̸͖͍̥̲s̷͖͆̎͒͝ͅ  |  HP: ???/??? | DMG: ???

[Acanthus 0]

Quote

“Does that look like a pub to you? Is there anyone inside?”

Focusing on her search skill, Acanthus closed her eyes to listen. The beating rain made it difficult to narrow her senses to the tavern. A ragged scream in the distance caused her to lose focus for a moment. She had to reassure herself that whoever was here was more than capable of taking care of themselves. “I don’t hear anything coming from inside.” Acanthus moved towards the door slowly, botan in hand. “That doesn’t mean it’s empty.”

Upon entering Health Point tavern (she assumed the abbreviation was a gamer thing), her mind drew immediate comparisons to the Sour Rumor, Oz’s pub down on floor thirteen. It had many similar hallmarks: wooden chairs, a low ceiling with exposed rafters, and a large fireplace in the far corner. But HP’s Tavern had been ransacked by something unknown. Shattered bottles and broken mugs littered the floor. Of the dozen or so chairs left, there were maybe two dozen legs. The bottles behind the counter were either cracked, faded, or so clouded that Acanthus didn’t even want to imagine what they would taste like.

“Actually, they don’t taste so bad—”

Acanthus yelped and whirled around, sword in hand. A bedraggled man leaned on the bar behind her, dressed in sackcloth. He mumbled through his long, wispy hair, face almost completely obscured.

The man continued to ramble. “—not so bad when you’ve had a few already. They taste a bit ochre, if you ask me.” He laughed to himself. “Ochre, with a hint of melancholy, and gasoline.”

“Baldur, Lessa, if you’re not in here, I’d appreciate the help.” She backed up from the hunched figure, ready to strike. “I’d like a name.”

“You’d like a name? You already have one, don’t you?” He giggled at his own joke. “But if you’d like mine, it’s Hildred. I’m the king of the last dynasty.”

“Are you the king in yellow?”

The man’s face took an immediate pallor. He turned to Acanthus, shaking. “Do not mention his name. The true king 

Quote

resides in Carcosa. A place outside of time, outside of life and death, but where the final chapter of everything has already been written.

For a moment, the man’s voice became two. Acanthus realized that Hildred was parroting Baldur’s words, while Baldur’s voice layered Hildred’s own. More voices, voices Acanthus did not recognize, joined the chorus.

Quote

Along the shore the cloud waves break,
The twin suns sink beneath the lake,
The shadows lengthen

               In Carcosa.

Hildred jolted up from his stool, staring blank and slack-jawed at Acanthus. Foul ichor began to leak from the corners of his mouth and eyes.

Quote

Strange is the night where black stars rise,
And strange moons circle through the skies
But stranger still is

               Lost Carcosa.

The voices rose in a frenzied chorus, raising higher and higher as the rafters began to shake. Acanthus tried to cover her ears with her free hand, but something about the sound penetrated the physical realm. This feels like the waves of madness from the boss fight!—

Quote

Songs that the Hyades shall sing,
Where flap the tatters of the King,
Must die unheard in

                  Dim Carcosa.

With a sickening crack, Hildred threw his head backwards at an unnatural angle. It lolled to the side like the corpse of a hung man. Ichor flowed freely from his eyes, mouth, and ears. But still the words poured out of his mouth, a thousand mouths.

Quote

Song of my soul, my voice is dead;
Die thou, unsung, as tears unshed
Shall dry and die in

                   Lost Carcosa.

At the last line, a clawed hand burst from Hildred’s mouth. With a deep, gagging noise, the man fell to his knees, and a creature larger than Hildred began to tear out of the man’s body. After a series of jagged, meaty ripping noises, Hildred’s remains fell to the ground in tatters. The creature had hands and legs, but was otherwise formless. It had no mouth or eyes, or any other features that Acanthus could identify. Despite the lack of facial features, she felt the thing staring directly at her, sizing her up.

Rejoice for the c̶̹̍ǒ̶̟m̵̫̣͋ī̶̥̰̉n̸̟͘g̷̰͊͘ ̵̲́͒o̴̘̪̓̕f̴̱͉̅̽ ̵͕̜̽̐t̶̮̿͊h̶̯̩͌ë̶̫́̍ ̴͔̿̑K̵̞̋̌̍̏̌̃́͘̚͘ĩ̶̡͚̆̃̎͊̓͜ṇ̴̻̊̀̑̊́͘͠͠g̶̪̩̔͆͋̚ͅ. The thing flexed its hands, and its claws grew longer. Ȟ̴̨̧̖̖͘͝͝i̷̛̦̟̣͔͈̺͉̙̓̒͂́̈́͜͝ś̴̛̺͒̓̿͆̂͝͝ glory b̴̛̫̜͆ĺ̶͕͝o̷̜̼͌t̷̫͛̓s̷̞͚̈́͆ ̵̗̄ẗ̸̗͈h̵̫̓̕é̴͎ ̶̺̅t̵͇̳̽w̶̲̅i̷̯̫͝n̸̤̯̾ ̴̬̳̄ś̷̨͓u̶̥͛̇n̷͖̙͗̌s̷̲̃.̵͕͋ ̴͙̈́͝. Ȟ̴̨̧̖̖͘͝͝i̷̛̦̟̣͔͈̺͉̙̓̒͂́̈́͜͝ś̴̛̺͒̓̿͆̂͝͝ power d̴̤̋w̵̼͈̟̻̚a̵̬͖̅͊̽͌̌r̵̯̿͋͊̕f̸̟̲͕͕̟͐̈́͝s̵͖̏ ̶̨̭̥̤͚͐͛ the stars themselves. C̸̢͖̞̉o̸̢͙͋͑͑ͅm̴͉̽e̵̘̓̋̚͜,̵̰̤̇͛ ̵̭͆o̸̗͖̔͑̈́f̴͈͆̄f̷̛̥̪͋̒ę̶̪̼͋̀͗r̵̛̝̯̈̐ ̷̱̜́́ͅH̵̨̺̪̓ī̸͙m̴̪̈́̿͝ p̴̯͛r̸͔̥͌͆̍ā̸͍̩i̴̖̺̼̿̍̿s̴̛̠̿̚ě̷̢͔̾ ̵̤̄t̴̫̅͒͛h̷͎̝͙͛̾a̶̦̓́ͅẗ̶̡̼̥́͂ ̴̰̮͐̽y̶̥̺̎͒̓ö̴̧̺͍̈ǔ̸͓ ̵͓̤̋͝ḿ̴̯̖̼͠í̵̤̐g̸̖͕̻̋h̸̡͔̥̊̓͆t̶͎̼͆ ̵͖͑b̴̡̹̹̽̎̋e̸̪͈̊̂̈́ ̵̣͘s̴͎̯͊͠p̸̲̈̿ã̷͍̻̩͘r̸̨̍e̴̹͇̱̋̆ḑ̷̖̦͆.̵̦͗̉̃

Acanthus couldn’t tell if the thing was speaking to her or directly into her head. Either way, the voice was powerful, drowning out her other thoughts. Almost lost to the maddening voice, a familiar voice—and far more terrifying one—pierced the monster’s chorus.

SHE WOULD FALL AFTER HER FIRST REAL FIGHT TO NOTHING MORE THAN TRASH. WORTHLESS.

I am not!— Hatred broke the spell over her and botan flew threw the air, shedding rose petals as she sought the creature’s head. The creature howled and backed up, baring its claws and hissing defensively. Acanthus panted with exertion and light returned to the edges of her vision. No time to think or question it. The thing needed to die.
 

Spoiler

Acanthus | Lvl 61 (34/27) | HP: 740/740 | EN: 75/88 | DMG: 23 | MIT:54 | ACC:5 | AA  | EVA:2 | BH:24 | VAMP-D: 41 | REC: 8 | LD:5
Baldur |
Lessa | 

Post Action: TECH-A -> Hyades Emissary (-13 (16 - 1 - 2) EN)
239691 | BD 1 + 6 | Hit! 23 * 16 = 368 damage. Stunned.

Hyades Emissary | 132/500 | DMG 150 | [Stunned]

Madness of the Yellow King | On MD 9–10, Hyades Emissary attacks each player for 150 damage as it preaches the coming of the Yellow King. Players hit by this attack are stunned. (This stun has a three-turn cooldown.)

 

 

Edited 9 hours ago by Acanthus