MSPA Fanfiction V: We're Going to Need More Wands

[draconicAlgorithm]

And now for something completely different. If you wanted more KarkatTerezi then you will have to get your fix elsewhere!

Those of you familiar with self-imposed challenges in video games in general (and with such challenges in Final Fantasy Tactics in particular) should like this, I hope!

I submit for your approval:
Self-Imposed Challenge

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GameBRO Forums - Vidya Discussion - Adventure/RPG -> SBURB
The SBURB Straight Character Challenge - Revision 6
Posted by Sburbian on 4/13/2012 (Last edit: 10/25/2012)

Alright guys, we've been playing SBURB for 3 years now. Most of us have beaten it like fifty times and it's barely a challenge anymore, but we still play it just to see what the game throws at us next. If you're a new player, you should definitely get a few complete games under your belt first. But if you're a vet looking for a fresh take on this classic, look no further than the SBURB Straight Character Challenge.

Simply put, this challenge puts your skills to the test in ways you'd never have to deal with normally. For example, in a normal game, most first denizens can be duoed by a hammerkind Soldier and any Space-aspect character. There have been sessions with as few as three players that walked away not just with a victory over the Black Queen, but a total obliteration of Derse's army.

But how do you deal with threats when you only have one set of tools? One Monk of Frost can be an invaluable ally against a Flame Ogre; going up against one with a team composed entirely of them would be suicide if handled in the usual manner. When you're forced to use a team made up of characters with the same class and aspect, it's a different game. Abilities that were previously useless become lifesavers. Methods you'd never try in a "real" game become viable.

THE RULES:
1) Use Winnie the Poop 2's SBURB Hacking Guide to ensure most of your players are assigned the same class and aspect. You are allowed a maximum of eight players. Note that a game requires at least three players to win, and you must have an Heir-class, a Space-aspect, and a Time-aspect for victory. Your Heir must share the common aspect, and your Space- and Time-aspects must share the common class. You may not make an Heir of Time, as that's ludicrously broken and goes against the entire point of this challenge. Heirs of Space are allowed if you're picking a difficult challenge (i.e. Philosophers of Peace, hell I might even allow you to use an Heir of Time on THAT shit)
2) Leave the random worldgen alone. This challenge is supposed to use random worlds.
3) All your characters must use the same strife specibus (though you are allowed to use different weapons for each character). Throw away or sell any specibi dropped from enemies.
4) All of your prototypings must relate to either your characters' class or aspect. For example, if you're doing a Knights of Thunder run then I expect your sprites to become some goddamn variant of electric warriors.
5) Under no circumstances are you allowed to prototype anything related to frogs pre-entry. Doing so means you get the Black King as your final boss instead. Compared to the Black Queen his melee hits like a freight train but he has no ranged attack to speak of and like a third of the HP. If you're doing an easy class/aspect I expect pre-entry double prototypings. If you're doing a REALLY easy class/aspect (fucking Thieves of Light, why don't they ever nerf this bullshit) then I expect at least one of your guys to prototype a fucking harlequin so you end up fighting Noir and don't get to just fucking sleep through your session while it basically wins itself. If you're doing Heirs of Breath then you'd better fucking prototype the First goddamn Guardian AND a harlequin or I swear to God I won't even fucking list your victory on the site.
6) One of your players is allowed to ascend to God Tier, and not your Time-aspect guy or your Heir, either. If you Godtier those guys, or more than one guy, and I find out it's an automatic disqualification. No restrictions on resurrection via dreamselves though, we're using normal rules on that.
7) Try to keep your time shenanigans to a minimum. I'll look the other way if your Time guy uses them to undo a total party kill but I won't be so lenient if he uses them to control the economy of an entire planet.

HOW TO PARTICIPATE:
Post the captchalogue code for your Ultimate Alchemy upon victory in this thread. This'll let me see how you won and what you did, and if there's no funny business you get in the List o' Winners, which is linked to in my sig. There's no limit to how many times you can do this so send me your code for every run you complete, and you'll get a new entry in The List every time.



NEWEST WINNERS:
Name - Weapon, Class/Aspect
------------------------
Sburbian - Axekind, Templars of Earth (my seventh run!)
Winnie the Poop 2 - Bladekind, Ninjas of Fire (congrats on your third run, bro)
BROSIDEN - Fistkind, Philosophers of Clockwork (HIS FIRST RUN AND HE GETS AN ULTRA NOIR ENDING, TRIPLE PROTOTYPED PRE-ENTRY AND DIDN'T EVEN GO GODTIER, HOLY SHIT)
ectoBiologist - Hammerkind, Bards of Law (holy shit this guy is a machine, victory #15 for him)
autonomousArctangent - Fistkind, Monks of Frost (made his game-required players sit out most of the game and powered through with just three monks, which balances out the fact that they were using Jack's fucking chainsaw arm from Madworld as a weapon from practically the beginning)

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Re: The SBURB Straight Character Challenge - Revision 6
Posted by Winnie the Poop 2 on 4/14/2012
You forgot to mention, if you're having trouble remembering low-level stuff because you've been focusing on endgame for the last three years, check out tentacleTherapist's SBURB FAQ. There's a reason people called it the best FAQ for SBURB until VERY recently.

Also, re: the challenge: just finished my first run. G4adxAopiMjnaUel is my code.

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Re: The SBURB Straight Character Challenge - Revision 6
Posted by Omega10 on 4/14/2012

Y699mjo1llawrDFejnCa

There's my first entry

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Re: The SBURB Straight Character Challenge - Revision 6
Posted by Sburbian on 4/14/2012 (Last edit: 4/14/2012)

Also, re: the challenge: just finished my first run. G4adxAopiMjnaUel is my code.

Nice, textbook Soldiers of Thunder run. Had to use your Time player to save your asses a couple times I see, but it's all good.

Y699mjo1llawrDFejnCa

There's my first entry

Nice first run there bro. Not everyone takes up Gunslingers on their first run, especially not Gunslingers of Iron, their movement penalties just aren't newb-friendly at all. Also haha at your prototypings, love how they're all Megaman characters.

EDIT: hahahahahaha nice try bro. I almost didn't catch it but I had a hunch when I realized all of your sprites were based off of Megaman 4 bosses. You threw a bunch of copies of that game at your sprites and one of them turned out to be Toad Man. DQ'd. Go back and do it right if you want to be on the list.

Hahaha, yes. That is amazing. I love all the subtle references in there, and the idea overall is just too fun. Like SBurb needed to be any harder. xD

[Path]

Man Comrade, hilarious.

[linguisticDoctor]

Oh God all the awesome in here that I have missed :bonk:

Like the Vampnaya fics (Hearts and Arrows = SO BOSS, but the rest of them are similarly awesome, especially Hunger and...and...and just all of them), and Graven being a GOD (I lol'd so hard at the ZP and Tim is so fucking rad but poor the Kid aaaaa), and Jim/Path being so hardboiled and noir it hurts, and all the crossovers, and LANDATYME HOLY SHIT, and just... So awesome. You guys are so awesome.

Hopefully this silly continuation to Incursion (if anyone remembers it) measures up even a little.

INCURSION

Chapter 1: threshold breaking

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INCURSION

Chapter 1: threshold breaking


Dream-bubble: Float.

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The Furthest Ring is regarded by most sapient beings with any ounce of sense as a place to be run away from, very, very fast, or avoided if at all possible. This is because, according to received knowledge, it is antithetical to all life, save those of its masters and shapers.

As usual, received knowledge comes out on the “bullshit” end of the Correctness Meter.

But there is a kernel, a tiny but diamond-pure kernel, of truth in it. The Furthest Ring can be survived easily, yes. What is not so easy is not succumbing to its influence. The Ring, as a plane of existence, is completely unlike anything those not its natives are used to. It is the very zenith of “alienness”. This is its inherent danger: not physical, but mental.

Assaulted with the impossibilities of the Ring, the conscious mind is like cold iron bludgeoned repeatedly with a ten-ton hammer: no matter how strong it seems, it will shatter.

The subconscious mind, however, the dreamself…ah, that is entirely another matter.

Dreamselves, by their very nature, are not bound by the petty laws of physical science; the subconscious regularly engages in breaking of those laws enough to give the zealous science-policeman fits. As such, the dreaming mind, unlike the undreaming, will bend rather than break.

When a dreamself enters the Ring, its mentality will begin to shift almost immediately to accommodate the new set of impossibilities it is now to understand are actually pillars of reality and sense.

Its perception of the Ring will, too, change to accommodate the Gods which are this place’s sovereigns. The perception of each Ring-dweller is fairly unique, especially within the spectrum of dreamers who are not ready to mentally acknowledge the sheer unreality of what they called a “Horrorterror” before coming here.

Tavros Nitram is, most assuredly, one such dreamer.

Dream Tavros: Stir.

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At first, you shrank from the song, as you flailed in the dark. You were afraid of it, and the seemingly unknowable words.

Shrogg-ulith k’nmaoth li’liyaaaaa

But how silly that was! Now you understand Their song just fine! Why, it’s just like that wonderful human cartoon you would watch Jade watch as she grew up…

Shrai shrai shsshhssssssssquiddle-ee-DEE! Squiddle-ee-DUM!

You giggle and writhe in your slumber, kicking with all limbs. No doubt you are experiencing the unparalleled joy of True Friendship.

Eve-ry-one sings, a Squiddle-y soooooong!

Dream Tavros: Suddenly realize you are being mind-melded with horrible monsters and flip the fuck out.

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Oh, what rubbish! You could NEVER do that.

Look at your new friends! How playful they are! How marvelous their velvet-soft tentacles, their boneless bodies so robust with the vital energies of friendship and fun! A curious limb entangles; a gleaming black eye sparkles with mischievious delight.

And, lest you fail to mention, this frolicking, this joy and delight? It is eternal. They never tire.

If you had but one wish in this new existence, you would wish for Rufio to be real so he could play with them too.

If you had two wishes, well, then you would immediately wish to be one of them, to know their boundless freedom. You imagine so vividly your new arms, without the limits or dangers of your former flesh, warmed in the embrace of your many tangle buddies.

Oh, what a daring dream!

==>

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Or is it merely a dream?

Squiddles are not or-di-nary fri-ends~

The song says it very well; they are so much more than what they seem.

They work and plaaaay~, and work ag-ain~

They made this place; to a degree, they are this place. The Ocean of Fun could not exist without Squiddles; the Ring does not without its Circle.

But they have homes and mommies too~

Oh, what mommies they have.
Those mommies are gods, and gods, if they are anything like the spirit of the word, can make dreams come true.

Yes they have mommies just like yoooooouuuuuu

Horrorterrors: Grant the Tavros-Page’s wish.

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Your eyes flicker open, and you are delighted to find that your friends are right there with you! And look, they’re spreading their many arms in a way that can only mean they want to become Tangle Buddies™!

You open your arms wide, and feel them encircling you.

Oh my! Oh dear. You had not anticipated that becoming

Tangle Buddies™ would hurt quite this much

or that your mind would start to drift a w a y

this tangle buddies thing
is not

what it’s

cracked

up

to be

==>

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Brown blood rushes back to the corpse of a Page abandoned by a Seer with other things on her mind and her tears for the dead already spent.

Lungs fill with air. A heart pumps anew.

There was a hole in his chest. It’s gone now.

Yellow eyes open wide, and a Page that is Tavros Nitram/that is not Tavros Nitram returns to/enters the Alternian session.

And with jerky movements, begins to—

Metal prostheses: HAPEN

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…you/you consider this, staring with (new?) eyes at the still very much completely ruined aberrations of your primary motile limbs/legs/legs, made as they are of cold metal and circuitry.

Well, this is going to present a problem. Not an insurmountable one, though.

Tavros?: Be the horrible clown-themed murder machine.

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honk

HONK

honk

HONK

honk

HONK

honk

HONK

honk honk honk :o)

HOOOOOOOOONNNNNKKKKKKKKKKK. Do:

OH GOD PLEASE NO THE HONKING MAKE IT STOP

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You are now Karkat Vantas, who is cradling his friend’s unconscious and now further injured (thanks to an impromptu trip down the STAIRS……) form, in what you hope is still a secret-ish alcove.

You haven’t seen Eridan, which is good news for you and for him, because you don’t think you’re in a good shape for a duel to the death right about now, and you couldn’t give him the violent, literal-bloodbath-is-involved flaying he so richly deserves even if you won.

You haven’t seen or heard from Equius, which is bad news, because you’re kind of counting on him to save you and your unconscious best bro from death at the hands of an insane Gamzee Makara. And if Gamzee can take down your STRONGman…no, you don't even want to think about it.

You haven’t seen Gamzee, but you can hear the honking. It’s gotten louder, somehow. Maybe he’s found one of the others? Oh God, you hope not. He’s already got Terezi’s glasses, but she said she was taking them off, so maybe she’s alive?

Oh please oh please oh please be alive. You’re not sure you can handle losing her on top of everything.

If only you knew how to use these stupid Blood powers. If only you weren’t so fucking incredibly scared.

Karkat: Be the STRONGman.

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You cannot be Equius, because Equius has died from strangulation quite recently! At the hands of the rage-maddened highb100d, no less!

You are now Nepeta Leijon.

Gamzee just killed your moirail, broke your wrist, and is stalking towards you, with a slowness that is as methodical as it is sadistic, blue-violet blood dripping down his eyelids, spinning the Deuce Clubs, smiling terribly, his eyes fluctuating between yellow and that terrible red-orange.

You are trying to be STRONG. Equius would want you to be! And he’d have been purroud of how you pounced out of the grate, ready to avenge him if at all pawssible.

But it hurts, and Gamzee’s look is so scary, and you feel like you catn’t…er, can’t move…

He’s nearly reached you, and he’s raising the Club. It looks like this is the end. If only you’d had just one chance to say goodbye to Karkitty, too…

==>

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There is a sound as the club comes down, a sound something like great leathery wings and a half-keening snarl, and it mingles with a sound of trollish agony.

The expected blow never arrives.

You hear a crack, and some manner of horrible noise, and then there is the sound of a body smashing into glass, but not hard enough to quite break it.

You are quite pawsitive that you should flee, and NOW.

But what’s this? Someone’s messaging you?

==>

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Open Pesterlog

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--grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began trolling arsenicCatnip [AC]--
GA: Rogue
GA: That Is To Say Nepeta
GA: We Must Inquire Into Your Present Mental State
AC: :33 < *ac is very scared and upset and confused!*
AC: :33 < *she backs her ears and hunches down in prepurration to fl33 at high sp33d!*
GA: Good
GA: Well Not Good Precisely
GA: What We Mean Is That
GA: You
GA: Are Clearly Not Affected By The Homicidal Urge Of The Bard Of Rage
GA: Nor Do You Share Cause With Eridan
GA: We
GA: I Was Unsure
AC: :33 < *ac continues to lash her tail, her f33rs not abated!*
AC: :33 < *furrther confusing her is the fact that katnaya died a pawful tragic death*
AC: :33 < and everyone’s dr33mselves are kapurrt!
AC: :33 < so how is this happening?!?
GA: Karkat’s Resurrection Attempt Was More Successful Than He Thought
GA: I’m Not Sure On The Exact Mechanics
GA: All I Know Is That I Am Quite Alive At The Moment
GA: Though Gamzee Is Doing His Level Best To Remedy That
GA: If You Would Carry Out Your Plan Of Egress
GA: I Will Have More Room To Subdue Him
GA: I Believe Karkat Is Also On The Lab Level
GA: I Would Advise Seeking Him Out
AC: :33 < *ac’s ears perk at this surpurrising turn of pawsitive news!*
AC: :33 < okay, ac will trust you, katnaya!
AC: :33 < and anything you could do furr her moirail she would really apurrciate :((
GA: I Will See If He Can Be Revived, Certainly
GA: Now Go, Please

--grimAuxiliatrix [GA] ceased trolling arsenicCatnip [AC]--

==>

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Sparing one last glance to poor Equius, you abscond from the area like your life depends on it, because it does.

Something about that conversation with Katnaya bothers you. You’re not sure what it is, but it seemed like there was…something going on that you couldn’t quite put your pawpad on…

Whatever it is, it’s not important! Karkitty needs you!

Kanaya?: Deal with Gamzee.

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the Rage-Bard/Gamzee has become quite a hazard to everyone.

You would dislike this/you greatly preferred the previous iteration.

It may prove to be beneficial, however, as he has the Mind-Seer/Terezi’s glasses. Those will make it harder for her to glimpse your/your true nature.

Another glancing blow is dealt.

Irritation—an insect/anger—a murderer. You/you consider elevation, but decide against it. Not at present.

Wait, this cloning tank—you recognize that form!/You begin to understand.

You/you have an idea now.

On his next charge, you grab the Bard by his skull with a single manipulator, whip him around, and with practiced momentum, send him through the vessel. The glass shatters, fluid begins to drain, alarms sing their klaxon wails over and over.

You/you ignore it, watching his form to see if it rises, and fighting back the urges of your body to go after his blood as it mingles with the amniotic fluid draining onto the floor and seeping through the shining red tiles.

==>

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Someone is trying to contact you? You’ll have to see who it is fir—

Oh, good. It’s your/your compatriot; he’s finally woken.

Kanaya?: Answer.

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Open Pesterlog

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--adiosToreador[AT] began trolling grimAuxiliatrix [GA]--

AT: sYLPH?
GA: Yes Im Here
AT: eXCELLENT, wE’LL BE THERE SHORTLY, wE SIMPLY HAD TO REPAIR OUR LEGS,
GA: Understandable
GA: Do Try To Remember Their Singularity Though
GA: And Refrain From The Plural
AT: aH, I UNDERSTAND
GA: Further I Believe That We (You And Myself) Should Address Them Simply By What They Call Names
GA: It Is Of Paramount Importance That They Trust Us
GA: If They Suspected It Would Go Poorly
GA: At The Moment Im Dealing With Makara
GA: Extinguishing Him May Be Necessary
AT: iF YOU ARE CERTAIN
AT: bUT WE NEED AS MANY OF THEM ALIVE AS WE CAN GET,
GA: I Dont Know About Using The Bard At All
GA: He Is Dangerously Unstable
GA: The Heir Of Void On The Other Hand
AT: hE HAS TRANSITIONED?
GA: Indeed
GA: We Will Give Him Time To Hear The Song
GA: Then Summon Him
AT: dO YOU THINK ANY OF THEM WILL BE WILLING TO HELP US?
AT: wITHOUT TRANSITION, tHAT IS,
GA: Ideally By The Time Anyone Knows Whats Going On
GA: They Will Not Have Another Option
GA: And They Barely Do Now

--adiosToreador[AT] ceased trolling grimAuxiliatrix [GA]--

==>

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You return your attention to Gamzee.

He’s still alive; still breathing enough to cough and sputter through the amniotic fluid, and his hands are making feeble attempts at rising.

You lick your lips—you/you are so hungry, and there’s no way he can fight you. Not like this.

It is a simple matter to clamber up onto the ruined tank, onto the body of a lusus dead for a second time.

It is a simple matter to open your mouth, and lower your fangs...and other new mouthparts...almost delicately into his neck.

Perhaps the bubbles he makes under the fluid are screams...at first.

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[Graven_Image]

Oh God all the awesome in here that I have missed.

Like the Vampnaya fics (Vindicatrix = SO BOSS, but the rest of them are similarly awesome, especially Hunger and...and...and just all of them), and Graven being a GOD (I lol'd so hard at the ZP and Tim is so fucking rad but poor the Kid aaaaa), and Jim/Path being so hardboiled and noir it hurts, and all the crossovers, and LANDATYME HOLY SHIT, and just... So awesome. You guys are so awesome.

Hopefully this silly continuation to Incursion (if anyone remembers it) measures up even a little.

INCURSION

Chapter 1: threshold breaking

show spoiler

hide spoiler

INCURSION

Chapter 1: threshold breaking


Dream-bubble: Float.

show spoiler

hide spoiler

The Furthest Ring is regarded by most sapient beings with any ounce of sense as a place to be run away from, very, very fast, or avoided if at all possible. This is because, according to received knowledge, it is antithetical to all life, save those of its masters and shapers.

As usual, received knowledge comes out on the “bullshit” end of the Correctness Meter.

But there is a kernel, a tiny but diamond-pure kernel, of truth in it. The Furthest Ring can be survived easily, yes. What is not so easy is not succumbing to its influence. The Ring, as a plane of existence, is completely unlike anything those not its natives are used to. It is the very zenith of “alienness”. This is its inherent danger: not physical, but mental.

Assaulted with the impossibilities of the Ring, the conscious mind is like cold iron bludgeoned repeatedly with a ten-ton hammer: no matter how strong it seems, it will shatter.

The subconscious mind, however, the dreamself…ah, that is entirely another matter.

Dreamselves, by their very nature, are not bound by the petty laws of physical science; the subconscious regularly engages in breaking of those laws enough to give the zealous science-policeman fits. As such, the dreaming mind, unlike the undreaming, will bend rather than break.

When a dreamself enters the Ring, its mentality will begin to shift almost immediately to accommodate the new set of impossibilities it is now to understand are actually pillars of reality and sense.

Its perception of the Ring will, too, change to accommodate the Gods which are this place’s sovereigns. The perception of each Ring-dweller is fairly unique, especially within the spectrum of dreamers who are not ready to mentally acknowledge the sheer unreality of what they called a “Horrorterror” before coming here.

Tavros Nitram is, most assuredly, one such dreamer.

Dream Tavros: Stir.

show spoiler

hide spoiler

At first, you shrank from the song, as you flailed in the dark. You were afraid of it, and the seemingly unknowable words.

Shrogg-ulith k’nmaoth li’liyaaaaa

But how silly that was! Now you understand Their song just fine! Why, it’s just like that wonderful human cartoon you would watch Jade watch as she grew up…

Shrai shrai shsshhssssssssquiddle-ee-DEE! Squiddle-ee-DUM!

You giggle and writhe in your slumber, kicking with all limbs. No doubt you are experiencing the unparalleled joy of True Friendship.

Eve-ry-one sings, a Squiddle-y soooooong!

Dream Tavros: Suddenly realize you are being mind-melded with horrible monsters and flip the fuck out.

show spoiler

hide spoiler

Oh, what rubbish! You could NEVER do that.

Look at your new friends! How playful they are! How marvelous their velvet-soft tentacles, their boneless bodies so robust with the vital energies of friendship and fun! A curious limb entangles; a gleaming black eye sparkles with mischievious delight.

And, lest you fail to mention, this frolicking, this joy and delight? It is eternal. They never tire.

If you had but one wish in this new existence, you would wish for Rufio to be real so he could play with them too.

If you had two wishes, well, then you would immediately wish to be one of them, to know their boundless freedom. You imagine so vividly your new arms, without the limits or dangers of your former flesh, warmed in the embrace of your many tangle buddies.

Oh, what a daring dream!

==>

show spoiler

hide spoiler

Or is it merely a dream?

Squiddles are not or-di-nary fri-ends~

The song says it very well; they are so much more than what they seem.

They work and plaaaay~, and work ag-ain~

They made this place; to a degree, they are this place. The Ocean of Fun could not exist without Squiddles; the Ring does not without its Circle.

But they have homes and mommies too~

Oh, what mommies they have.
Those mommies are gods, and gods, if they are anything like the spirit of the word, can make dreams come true.

Yes they have mommies just like yoooooouuuuuu

Horrorterrors: Grant the Tavros-Page’s wish.

show spoiler

hide spoiler

Your eyes flicker open, and you are delighted to find that your friends are right there with you! And look, they’re spreading their many arms in a way that can only mean they want to become Tangle Buddies™!

You open your arms wide, and feel them encircling you.

Oh my! Oh dear. You had not anticipated that becoming

Tangle Buddies™ would hurt quite this much

or that your mind would start to drift a w a y

this tangle buddies thing
is not

what it’s

cracked

up

to be

==>

show spoiler

hide spoiler

Brown blood rushes back to the corpse of a Page abandoned by a Seer with other things on her mind and her tears for the dead already spent.

Lungs fill with air. A heart pumps anew.

There was a hole in his chest. It’s gone now.

Yellow eyes open wide, and a Page that is Tavros Nitram/that is not Tavros Nitram returns to/enters the Alternian session.

And with jerky movements, begins to—

Metal prostheses: HAPEN

show spoiler

hide spoiler

…you/you consider this, staring with (new?) eyes at the still very much completely ruined aberrations of your primary motile limbs/legs/legs, made as they are of cold metal and circuitry.

Well, this is going to present a problem. Not an insurmountable one, though.

Tavros?: Be the horrible clown-themed murder machine.

show spoiler

hide spoiler

honk

HONK

honk

HONK

honk

HONK

honk

HONK

honk honk honk )

HOOOOOOOOONNNNNKKKKKKKKKKK. Do:

OH GOD PLEASE NO THE HONKING MAKE IT STOP

show spoiler

hide spoiler

You are now Karkat Vantas, who is cradling his friend’s unconscious and now further injured (thanks to an impromptu trip down the STAIRS……) form, in what you hope is still a secret-ish alcove.

You haven’t seen Eridan, which is good news for you and for him, because you don’t think you’re in a good shape for a duel to the death right about now, and you couldn’t give him the violent, literal-bloodbath-is-involved flaying he so richly deserves even if you won.

You haven’t seen or heard from Equius, which is bad news, because you’re kind of counting on him to save you and your unconscious best bro from death at the hands of an insane Gamzee Makara. And if Gamzee can take down your STRONGman…no, you don't even want to think about it.

You haven’t seen Gamzee, but you can hear the honking. It’s gotten louder, somehow. Maybe he’s found one of the others? Oh God, you hope not. He’s already got Terezi’s glasses, but she said she was taking them off, so maybe she’s alive?

Oh please oh please oh please be alive. You’re not sure you can handle losing her on top of everything.

If only you knew how to use these stupid Blood powers. If only you weren’t so fucking incredibly scared.

Karkat: Be the STRONGman.

show spoiler

hide spoiler

You cannot be Equius, because Equius has died from strangulation quite recently! At the hands of the rage-maddened highb100d, no less!

You are now Nepeta Leijon.

Gamzee just killed your moirail, broke your wrist, and is stalking towards you, with a slowness that is as methodical as it is sadistic, blue-violet blood dripping down his eyelids, spinning the Deuce Clubs, smiling terribly, his eyes fluctuating between yellow and that terrible red-orange.

You are trying to be STRONG. Equius would want you to be! And he’d have been purroud of how you pounced out of the grate, ready to avenge him if at all pawssible.

But it hurts, and Gamzee’s look is so scary, and you feel like you catn’t…er, can’t move…

He’s nearly reached you, and he’s raising the Club. It looks like this is the end. If only you’d had just one chance to say goodbye to Karkitty, too…

==>

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There is a sound as the club comes down, a sound something like great leathery wings and a half-keening snarl, and it mingles with a sound of trollish agony.

The expected blow never arrives.

You hear a crack, and some manner of horrible noise, and then there is the sound of a body smashing into glass, but not hard enough to quite break it.

You are quite pawsitive that you should flee, and NOW.

But what’s this? Someone’s messaging you?

==>

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Open Pesterlog

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--grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began trolling arsenicCatnip [AC]--
GA: Rogue
GA: That Is To Say Nepeta
GA: We Must Inquire Into Your Present Mental State
AC: :33 < *ac is very scared and upset and confused!*
AC: :33 < *she backs her ears and hunches down in prepurration to fl33 at high sp33d!*
GA: Good
GA: Well Not Good Precisely
GA: What We Mean Is That
GA: You
GA: Are Clearly Not Affected By The Homicidal Urge Of The Bard Of Rage
GA: Nor Do You Share Cause With Eridan
GA: We
GA: I Was Unsure
AC: :33 < *ac continues to lash her tail, her f33rs not abated!*
AC: :33 < *furrther confusing her is the fact that katnaya died a pawful tragic death*
AC: :33 < and everyone’s dr33mselves are kapurrt!
AC: :33 < so how is this happening?!?
GA: Karkat’s Resurrection Attempt Was More Successful Than He Thought
GA: I’m Not Sure On The Exact Mechanics
GA: All I Know Is That I Am Quite Alive At The Moment
GA: Though Gamzee Is Doing His Level Best To Remedy That
GA: If You Would Carry Out Your Plan Of Egress
GA: I Will Have More Room To Subdue Him
GA: I Believe Karkat Is Also On The Lab Level
GA: I Would Advise Seeking Him Out
AC: :33 < *ac’s ears perk at this surpurrising turn of pawsitive news!*
AC: :33 < okay, ac will trust you, katnaya!
AC: :33 < and anything you could do furr her moirail she would really apurrciate (
GA: I Will See If He Can Be Revived, Certainly
GA: Now Go, Please

--grimAuxiliatrix [GA] ceased trolling arsenicCatnip [AC]--

==>

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Sparing one last glance to poor Equius, you abscond from the area like your life depends on it, because it does.

Something about that conversation with Katnaya bothers you. You’re not sure what it is, but it seemed like there was…something going on that you couldn’t quite put your pawpad on…

Whatever it is, it’s not important! Karkitty needs you!

Kanaya?: Deal with Gamzee.

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the Rage-Bard/Gamzee has become quite a hazard to everyone.

You would dislike this/you greatly preferred the previous iteration.

It may prove to be beneficial, however, as he has the Mind-Seer/Terezi’s glasses. Those will make it harder for her to glimpse your/your true nature.

Another glancing blow is dealt.

Irritation—an insect/anger—a murderer. You/you consider elevation, but decide against it. Not at present.

Wait, this cloning tank—you recognize that form!/You begin to understand.

You/you have an idea now.

On his next charge, you grab the Bard by his skull with a single manipulator, whip him around, and with practiced momentum, send him through the vessel. The glass shatters, fluid begins to drain, alarms sing their klaxon wails over and over.

You/you ignore it, watching his form to see if it rises, and fighting back the urges of your body to go after his blood as it mingles with the amniotic fluid draining onto the floor and seeping through the shining red tiles.

==>

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Someone is trying to contact you? You’ll have to see who it is fir—

Oh, good. It’s your/your compatriot; he’s finally woken.

Kanaya?: Answer.

show spoiler

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Open Pesterlog

show spoiler

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--adiosToreador[AT] began trolling grimAuxiliatrix [GA]--

AT: sYLPH?
GA: Yes Im Here
AT: eXCELLENT, wE’LL BE THERE SHORTLY, wE SIMPLY HAD TO REPAIR OUR LEGS,
GA: Understandable
GA: Do Try To Remember Their Singularity Though
GA: And Refrain From The Plural
AT: aH, I UNDERSTAND
GA: Further I Believe That We (You And Myself) Should Address Them Simply By What They Call Names
GA: It Is Of Paramount Importance That They Trust Us
GA: If They Suspected It Would Go Poorly
GA: At The Moment Im Dealing With Makara
GA: Extinguishing Him May Be Necessary
AT: iF YOU ARE CERTAIN
AT: bUT WE NEED AS MANY OF THEM ALIVE AS WE CAN GET,
GA: I Dont Know About Using The Bard At All
GA: He Is Dangerously Unstable
GA: The Heir Of Void On The Other Hand
AT: hE HAS TRANSITIONED?
GA: Indeed
GA: We Will Give Him Time To Hear The Song
GA: Then Summon Him
AT: dO YOU THINK ANY OF THEM WILL BE WILLING TO HELP US?
AT: wITHOUT TRANSITION, tHAT IS,
GA: Ideally By The Time Anyone Knows Whats Going On
GA: They Will Not Have Another Option
GA: And They Barely Do Now

--adiosToreador[AT] ceased trolling grimAuxiliatrix [GA]--

==>

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You return your attention to Gamzee.

He’s still alive; still breathing enough to cough and sputter through the amniotic fluid, and his hands are making feeble attempts at rising.

You lick your lips—you/you are so hungry, and there’s no way he can fight you. Not like this.

It is a simple matter to clamber up onto the ruined tank, onto the body of a lusus dead for a second time.

It is a simple matter to open your mouth, and lower your fangs...and other new mouthparts...almost delicately into his neck.

Perhaps the bubbles he makes under the fluid are screams...at first.

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I am not a GOD. Thank you for saying so, though.

As for the fic...

[SeptimusMagistos]

Oh God all the awesome in here that I have missed

Like the Vampnaya fics (Vindicatrix = SO BOSS, but the rest of them are similarly awesome, especially Hunger and...and...and just all of them), and Graven being a GOD (I lol'd so hard at the ZP and Tim is so fucking rad but poor the Kid aaaaa), and Jim/Path being so hardboiled and noir it hurts, and all the crossovers, and LANDATYME HOLY SHIT, and just... So awesome. You guys are so awesome.

Hopefully this silly continuation to Incursion (if anyone remembers it) measures up even a little.

INCURSION

Chapter 1: threshold breaking

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INCURSION

Chapter 1: threshold breaking


Dream-bubble: Float.

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The Furthest Ring is regarded by most sapient beings with any ounce of sense as a place to be run away from, very, very fast, or avoided if at all possible. This is because, according to received knowledge, it is antithetical to all life, save those of its masters and shapers.

As usual, received knowledge comes out on the “bullshit” end of the Correctness Meter.

But there is a kernel, a tiny but diamond-pure kernel, of truth in it. The Furthest Ring can be survived easily, yes. What is not so easy is not succumbing to its influence. The Ring, as a plane of existence, is completely unlike anything those not its natives are used to. It is the very zenith of “alienness”. This is its inherent danger: not physical, but mental.

Assaulted with the impossibilities of the Ring, the conscious mind is like cold iron bludgeoned repeatedly with a ten-ton hammer: no matter how strong it seems, it will shatter.

The subconscious mind, however, the dreamself…ah, that is entirely another matter.

Dreamselves, by their very nature, are not bound by the petty laws of physical science; the subconscious regularly engages in breaking of those laws enough to give the zealous science-policeman fits. As such, the dreaming mind, unlike the undreaming, will bend rather than break.

When a dreamself enters the Ring, its mentality will begin to shift almost immediately to accommodate the new set of impossibilities it is now to understand are actually pillars of reality and sense.

Its perception of the Ring will, too, change to accommodate the Gods which are this place’s sovereigns. The perception of each Ring-dweller is fairly unique, especially within the spectrum of dreamers who are not ready to mentally acknowledge the sheer unreality of what they called a “Horrorterror” before coming here.

Tavros Nitram is, most assuredly, one such dreamer.

Dream Tavros: Stir.

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At first, you shrank from the song, as you flailed in the dark. You were afraid of it, and the seemingly unknowable words.

Shrogg-ulith k’nmaoth li’liyaaaaa

But how silly that was! Now you understand Their song just fine! Why, it’s just like that wonderful human cartoon you would watch Jade watch as she grew up…

Shrai shrai shsshhssssssssquiddle-ee-DEE! Squiddle-ee-DUM!

You giggle and writhe in your slumber, kicking with all limbs. No doubt you are experiencing the unparalleled joy of True Friendship.

Eve-ry-one sings, a Squiddle-y soooooong!

Dream Tavros: Suddenly realize you are being mind-melded with horrible monsters and flip the fuck out.

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Oh, what rubbish! You could NEVER do that.

Look at your new friends! How playful they are! How marvelous their velvet-soft tentacles, their boneless bodies so robust with the vital energies of friendship and fun! A curious limb entangles; a gleaming black eye sparkles with mischievious delight.

And, lest you fail to mention, this frolicking, this joy and delight? It is eternal. They never tire.

If you had but one wish in this new existence, you would wish for Rufio to be real so he could play with them too.

If you had two wishes, well, then you would immediately wish to be one of them, to know their boundless freedom. You imagine so vividly your new arms, without the limits or dangers of your former flesh, warmed in the embrace of your many tangle buddies.

Oh, what a daring dream!

==>

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Or is it merely a dream?

Squiddles are not or-di-nary fri-ends~

The song says it very well; they are so much more than what they seem.

They work and plaaaay~, and work ag-ain~

They made this place; to a degree, they are this place. The Ocean of Fun could not exist without Squiddles; the Ring does not without its Circle.

But they have homes and mommies too~

Oh, what mommies they have.
Those mommies are gods, and gods, if they are anything like the spirit of the word, can make dreams come true.

Yes they have mommies just like yoooooouuuuuu

Horrorterrors: Grant the Tavros-Page’s wish.

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Your eyes flicker open, and you are delighted to find that your friends are right there with you! And look, they’re spreading their many arms in a way that can only mean they want to become Tangle Buddies™!

You open your arms wide, and feel them encircling you.

Oh my! Oh dear. You had not anticipated that becoming

Tangle Buddies™ would hurt quite this much

or that your mind would start to drift a w a y

this tangle buddies thing
is not

what it’s

cracked

up

to be

==>

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Brown blood rushes back to the corpse of a Page abandoned by a Seer with other things on her mind and her tears for the dead already spent.

Lungs fill with air. A heart pumps anew.

There was a hole in his chest. It’s gone now.

Yellow eyes open wide, and a Page that is Tavros Nitram/that is not Tavros Nitram returns to/enters the Alternian session.

And with jerky movements, begins to—

Metal prostheses: HAPEN

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…you/you consider this, staring with (new?) eyes at the still very much completely ruined aberrations of your primary motile limbs/legs/legs, made as they are of cold metal and circuitry.

Well, this is going to present a problem. Not an insurmountable one, though.

Tavros?: Be the horrible clown-themed murder machine.

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honk

HONK

honk

HONK

honk

HONK

honk

HONK

honk honk honk )

HOOOOOOOOONNNNNKKKKKKKKKKK. Do:

OH GOD PLEASE NO THE HONKING MAKE IT STOP

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You are now Karkat Vantas, who is cradling his friend’s unconscious and now further injured (thanks to an impromptu trip down the STAIRS……) form, in what you hope is still a secret-ish alcove.

You haven’t seen Eridan, which is good news for you and for him, because you don’t think you’re in a good shape for a duel to the death right about now, and you couldn’t give him the violent, literal-bloodbath-is-involved flaying he so richly deserves even if you won.

You haven’t seen or heard from Equius, which is bad news, because you’re kind of counting on him to save you and your unconscious best bro from death at the hands of an insane Gamzee Makara. And if Gamzee can take down your STRONGman…no, you don't even want to think about it.

You haven’t seen Gamzee, but you can hear the honking. It’s gotten louder, somehow. Maybe he’s found one of the others? Oh God, you hope not. He’s already got Terezi’s glasses, but she said she was taking them off, so maybe she’s alive?

Oh please oh please oh please be alive. You’re not sure you can handle losing her on top of everything.

If only you knew how to use these stupid Blood powers. If only you weren’t so fucking incredibly scared.

Karkat: Be the STRONGman.

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You cannot be Equius, because Equius has died from strangulation quite recently! At the hands of the rage-maddened highb100d, no less!

You are now Nepeta Leijon.

Gamzee just killed your moirail, broke your wrist, and is stalking towards you, with a slowness that is as methodical as it is sadistic, blue-violet blood dripping down his eyelids, spinning the Deuce Clubs, smiling terribly, his eyes fluctuating between yellow and that terrible red-orange.

You are trying to be STRONG. Equius would want you to be! And he’d have been purroud of how you pounced out of the grate, ready to avenge him if at all pawssible.

But it hurts, and Gamzee’s look is so scary, and you feel like you catn’t…er, can’t move…

He’s nearly reached you, and he’s raising the Club. It looks like this is the end. If only you’d had just one chance to say goodbye to Karkitty, too…

==>

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There is a sound as the club comes down, a sound something like great leathery wings and a half-keening snarl, and it mingles with a sound of trollish agony.

The expected blow never arrives.

You hear a crack, and some manner of horrible noise, and then there is the sound of a body smashing into glass, but not hard enough to quite break it.

You are quite pawsitive that you should flee, and NOW.

But what’s this? Someone’s messaging you?

==>

show spoiler

hide spoiler

Open Pesterlog

show spoiler

hide spoiler

--grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began trolling arsenicCatnip [AC]--
GA: Rogue
GA: That Is To Say Nepeta
GA: We Must Inquire Into Your Present Mental State
AC: :33 < *ac is very scared and upset and confused!*
AC: :33 < *she backs her ears and hunches down in prepurration to fl33 at high sp33d!*
GA: Good
GA: Well Not Good Precisely
GA: What We Mean Is That
GA: You
GA: Are Clearly Not Affected By The Homicidal Urge Of The Bard Of Rage
GA: Nor Do You Share Cause With Eridan
GA: We
GA: I Was Unsure
AC: :33 < *ac continues to lash her tail, her f33rs not abated!*
AC: :33 < *furrther confusing her is the fact that katnaya died a pawful tragic death*
AC: :33 < and everyone’s dr33mselves are kapurrt!
AC: :33 < so how is this happening?!?
GA: Karkat’s Resurrection Attempt Was More Successful Than He Thought
GA: I’m Not Sure On The Exact Mechanics
GA: All I Know Is That I Am Quite Alive At The Moment
GA: Though Gamzee Is Doing His Level Best To Remedy That
GA: If You Would Carry Out Your Plan Of Egress
GA: I Will Have More Room To Subdue Him
GA: I Believe Karkat Is Also On The Lab Level
GA: I Would Advise Seeking Him Out
AC: :33 < *ac’s ears perk at this surpurrising turn of pawsitive news!*
AC: :33 < okay, ac will trust you, katnaya!
AC: :33 < and anything you could do furr her moirail she would really apurrciate (
GA: I Will See If He Can Be Revived, Certainly
GA: Now Go, Please

--grimAuxiliatrix [GA] ceased trolling arsenicCatnip [AC]--

==>

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Sparing one last glance to poor Equius, you abscond from the area like your life depends on it, because it does.

Something about that conversation with Katnaya bothers you. You’re not sure what it is, but it seemed like there was…something going on that you couldn’t quite put your pawpad on…

Whatever it is, it’s not important! Karkitty needs you!

Kanaya?: Deal with Gamzee.

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the Rage-Bard/Gamzee has become quite a hazard to everyone.

You would dislike this/you greatly preferred the previous iteration.

It may prove to be beneficial, however, as he has the Mind-Seer/Terezi’s glasses. Those will make it harder for her to glimpse your/your true nature.

Another glancing blow is dealt.

Irritation—an insect/anger—a murderer. You/you consider elevation, but decide against it. Not at present.

Wait, this cloning tank—you recognize that form!/You begin to understand.

You/you have an idea now.

On his next charge, you grab the Bard by his skull with a single manipulator, whip him around, and with practiced momentum, send him through the vessel. The glass shatters, fluid begins to drain, alarms sing their klaxon wails over and over.

You/you ignore it, watching his form to see if it rises, and fighting back the urges of your body to go after his blood as it mingles with the amniotic fluid draining onto the floor and seeping through the shining red tiles.

==>

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Someone is trying to contact you? You’ll have to see who it is fir—

Oh, good. It’s your/your compatriot; he’s finally woken.

Kanaya?: Answer.

show spoiler

hide spoiler

Open Pesterlog

show spoiler

hide spoiler

--adiosToreador[AT] began trolling grimAuxiliatrix [GA]--

AT: sYLPH?
GA: Yes Im Here
AT: eXCELLENT, wE’LL BE THERE SHORTLY, wE SIMPLY HAD TO REPAIR OUR LEGS,
GA: Understandable
GA: Do Try To Remember Their Singularity Though
GA: And Refrain From The Plural
AT: aH, I UNDERSTAND
GA: Further I Believe That We (You And Myself) Should Address Them Simply By What They Call Names
GA: It Is Of Paramount Importance That They Trust Us
GA: If They Suspected It Would Go Poorly
GA: At The Moment Im Dealing With Makara
GA: Extinguishing Him May Be Necessary
AT: iF YOU ARE CERTAIN
AT: bUT WE NEED AS MANY OF THEM ALIVE AS WE CAN GET,
GA: I Dont Know About Using The Bard At All
GA: He Is Dangerously Unstable
GA: The Heir Of Void On The Other Hand
AT: hE HAS TRANSITIONED?
GA: Indeed
GA: We Will Give Him Time To Hear The Song
GA: Then Summon Him
AT: dO YOU THINK ANY OF THEM WILL BE WILLING TO HELP US?
AT: wITHOUT TRANSITION, tHAT IS,
GA: Ideally By The Time Anyone Knows Whats Going On
GA: They Will Not Have Another Option
GA: And They Barely Do Now

--adiosToreador[AT] ceased trolling grimAuxiliatrix [GA]--

==>

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You return your attention to Gamzee.

He’s still alive; still breathing enough to cough and sputter through the amniotic fluid, and his hands are making feeble attempts at rising.

You lick your lips—you/you are so hungry, and there’s no way he can fight you. Not like this.

It is a simple matter to clamber up onto the ruined tank, onto the body of a lusus dead for a second time.

It is a simple matter to open your mouth, and lower your fangs...and other new mouthparts...almost delicately into his neck.

Perhaps the bubbles he makes under the fluid are screams...at first.

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Why do so many of my fandoms involve situations in which an elder god taking over the body of a dead loved one is an improvement?

[Path]

Augh I think this fic was just a bad idea. I had some heady delusions going into it and I just don't think they manifested well. These fics seem to benefit from brevity; I really need to give myself a 3-page max and learn to live with that.
Anyhow, I hope some of what I intended gets through.


The Blind Spot and the Missing Piece

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Spades Slick is not a man who easily trusts others. However, he is also not a patient man, nor a man very in control of his desires. This has led to no few whimsical heat-of-the-moment seductions for him; his tendency to see what he wants and immediately grab for it is both his greatest strength and weakness. On the whole, he doesn't think much of them. He can pretty much size up the potential threat of most people he meets within a few minutes, and can catch a plant rapidly. He has no patience for delicate social interactions, but he can tell when somebody lies to him.

Not that there's many dames planted to kill him anymore. That was more a Kingpin thing; with his lackeys scrabbling at the leftover pieces of pie, there's really only the Felt and the cops to worry about. Of those, the cops are mostly in his pocket, and the Felt wage war in their own haphazard way. Really it's only Problem Sleuth who poses the, well, problem, and while that makes things unpredictable and unbelievably frustrating, at least Slick doesn't have to worry about his latest girlfriend gearing up to shiv him in the back.

None of them ever meant much to him. Well, not after the first, but Slick doesn't think of her ever. Ever. And the fact that she's spinning most of the gears behind his greatest enemies doesn't mean anything. It doesn't. He flat outright refuses to consider her.

So none of his other girlfriends meant anything. Just distraction, enjoyment, some time away from managing his many enterprises, orchestrating his many payoffs, and having midnight knife fights through time with an infinite number of green assholes. And his recent disaster with Problem Sleuth. But he doesn't want to consider that either. So all in all, he could use a good distraction.

But he's honestly a little surprised at what a distraction this dame is turning out to be. There's something about her. She's not as drop-dead gorgeous as some of his other flings, true, but she's clever and observant and a whole lot smarter than most of the women who pass his way. She's spunky; he didn't think he'd like that but he does. She doesn't put up with any crap from him. She's proving to be a challenge, which is not a thing he usually wants in a relationship, no matter how fleeting. He's got enough to deal with in the rest of his life to want to puzzle out some hysterical dame.

But this one, he's having to make an exception for.

She reminds him of someone. He can't think of who, though. None of his past girlfriends were this smart. Most of them he just liked having drape off his arm and be sparkling and stunning, somebody to parade around and look at- another big gem to add to the pile in the safe. This dame isn't like that. No sparkling dresses, for one, just practical, with a nice hat, and funny as hell (though, she has a penchant for corsets he likes, and she sure wears one well). He can't treat her like the rest, and doesn't. She's something else- but what, he just can't figure out.

So he takes her out to dinner. She talks, smiles, bats challenges and insults at him, and he finds himself grinning and laughing and genuinely enjoying himself with a lady in a way he never really has. (Knowing she's enjoying herself as much as he is is just... nice, for a change. He can tell, of course. He always knows when someone's lying to him.) He throws around insults with the boys, of course, and with Problem Sleuth (but he's not going to think about that particular disaster just now); however, a lady willing to step up and play dirty is new. And Spades Slick likes novelty.

He wish he could figure out who she reminded him of, though. It keeps bugging him.

It annoys him through dinner, just a little, a nagging certainty that this hysterical dame is somebody he knew once, or related to someone he knew once, or he's seen her before somewhere. It doesn't stop him from busting a gut laughing at her ridiculous stories- one about a pair of her girlfriends accidentally inheriting a brothel or something strikes him as particularly hilarious. She's clearly told it a dozen times, but it's just allowed her to refine it. She's a good storyteller when she gets going. He likes that. It reminds him of someone.

Of course, all good things must end. This particular good thing ends just before dessert, as Slick is reclining with a glass of something strong and dark and very red, and his lady is contemplating a variety of chocolate cakes that pretty much all look the same to him. He's watching her, still just racking his brain for the missing piece. That's when this good thing ends for Spades Slick.

There's a crash of shattering glass, and Slick is already on his feet, a flush of spades in his hand and his teeth bared in his fighting snarl. A man follows the bullets through the window, thrown straight through. He hits the ground and slides, firing back through the broken window the whole way, coming to a stop at Slick's feet. One of his shots must have connected; there's a grunt outside the window and the delayed sound of a body hitting pavement.

Spades Slick looks down into a face he'd been hoping to go a long time before seeing again. It's roughed up and blossoming into bruises, and sporting what looks like somebody's footprint. His duster is scuffed. He's got a key in each hand and has them pointed straight up at Slick's face. And the last time Slick saw him, the two of them were screaming bloody murder while trying to enact just that.

Problem Sleuth glares up at him as Slick automatically brings a pair of cards out to match the keys. Then he gets a forced light-hearted expression on, and half-smiles around all the weapons. "Hey there Slick," he says, his tone forced too. "Long time no see."

Spades Slick made a promise, not so long ago. "The next time I see that bastard," he said, "I'm gonna shove a knife down his throat before he can speak." Slick's a little sad (but mostly, just unbelievably furious) that his promise got broken already. That's what a few weeks of soft living can do to you. Makes you slow to react. Well, he'll at least get a few stabs in before Sleuth gets a chance to talk more.

Sleuth fires too late, missing as Slick twirls and comes in on a diagonal with a pair of extremely sharp cards. He doesn't get them into Problem Sleuth, though, because just as he's about to, he hears a screaming "Nooooooooo!" and his girlfriend leaps between him and prone Sleuth. He almost puts a carving knife and a switchblade through her stomach, actually, but gets back in time.

She's got tears in her eyes, her hands clasped in front of her. "Please, don't," she says.

"Lady," Spades Slick says, "I don't think you know what you're getting into."

But she seems to. She looks at him seriously and tearfully and asks him to stop again. Then she looks down, behind her, to key-toting Sleuth, and repeats herself to him.

Sleuth says nothing for a moment, and Slick is still trying to figure out how to salvage this whole mess. But then Sleuth responds. "If that's what you want, lady," he says, and his voice is full of regret and misery and some other emotions Slick already saw too much of much too recently. And his girlfriend is looking at Problem Sleuth with tears in her eyes and something that looks like the way she'd just started to look at Slick himself, and Slick realizes a few things all of a sudden.

The first is that his girlfriend used to be some sort of item with Problem Sleuth. He knows he's never met her before recently, but looking at them now, he just knows. Just like he knows she's still at least a little in love with him.

The second is his missing piece. Looking at her, his girlfriend reminds him so much of Sleuth that he can barely believe he didn't see it before. He must have been blocking out all of Sleuth's influence so much that he kept himself willingly blind to it. She must have gone steady with him a long time; their mannerisms are all the same. He'd figure them to be siblings if there wasn't that something in the way they looked at each other.

The third is that she's just not as great of a Problem Sleuth as Problem Sleuth is. He didn't know that's what he was after, at the time, but it was, and Spades Slick won't lie to himself. He still likes her. But all those things he liked- the silly stories, the stupid insults, the feeling of just being a break from the real world- that's all Sleuth stuff. That's what he got with him.

The fourth thing he realizes is that he doesn't want to kill Problem Sleuth. Oh, he wants to stab him, alright, but he no longer wants to see Sleuth's cold corpse laid out in front of him. Things have faded enough. He'd like to beat the crap out of him. He'd like to throttle him and smack him around and generally make the bastard wish he'd never crossed Slick, but he doesn't want him dead for the first time in two months.

The fifth thought, and least important, is somehow the most disorienting; simply the sudden realization that everybody in this room has slept with each other, and he's the last one to know.

So Spades Slick looks at them, looking at each other. Sleuth turns back, meets Slick's eyes around the curve of Slick's girlfriend's hip. And Slick, for the first time in his life, slowly takes his cards and holds them up, then shoves them in his jacket. Sleuth's eyes (and keys) are following him. After a minute of tense nothing, Sleuth pockets his keys. Everybody looks like they're about to talk.

Spades Slick walks out of the room. That's the only way he can deal with this. He's not used to mercy, or even pity, and he's no happier feeling the emotions than having them directed at him. So he leaves. They'll put the bill for the meals on his tab, and he'll deal with it later. He feels oddly numb.

He sits in his car for a few minutes before he does anything with it, just sitting and absorbing everything and trying to justify it with the things he thought were true ten minutes ago. It doesn't really jive. Not with him, not with the person he thought he was, not with the person he thought Sleuth was. He's been waiting for her, he realizes belatedly. Waiting for her to choose him over Problem Sleuth. He grimaces. His scar pulls at his cheek. He turns the keys and pulls out into the street.

He's just making the turn off the street, past the goon on the pavement with the loaded pencil and the bullet through the forehead, and the crowd of onlookers, and he can't even see her. He's not sure if he wants to, anymore.

There's a banging on his passenger-side window as he goes to turn, though, and he looks back in a sort of stupid hope. He hates stuff on the passenger side; he's got to turn his head so damn far to see it. That's why he likes having Droog or Deuce on that side, covering his blind spot.

But it's not her.

It's his missing piece.

He's beat-up and scruffy and still has that footprint on his face, and he looks tired and frustrated and grim as he looks in the window.

He doesn't say anything, and for a moment, Slick doesn't either. He takes a breath, glaring at Sleuth out his passenger-side window. Then, scowling, he throws the door open and growls "Get in the fucking car," and Sleuth slides in with a look of half awkward worry and half embarrassed relief.

Spades Slick starts driving. It'd be a lot easier if he'd just left Sleuth on the curb. He's got no guarantee that anything's going to change. No promise that they'll work things out, and no real hope that the things they said to each other are forgettable.

But he can always tell when somebody's lying. And he'd be lying if he told himself he wasn't glad Problem Sleuth, and not their mutual ex-girlfriend, was the one to come after him.

[Dehgan]

And now for something completely different. If you wanted more KarkatTerezi then you will have to get your fix elsewhere!

Those of you familiar with self-imposed challenges in video games in general (and with such challenges in Final Fantasy Tactics in particular) should like this, I hope!

I submit for your approval:
Self-Imposed Challenge

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GameBRO Forums - Vidya Discussion - Adventure/RPG -> SBURB
The SBURB Straight Character Challenge - Revision 6
Posted by Sburbian on 4/13/2012 (Last edit: 10/25/2012)

Alright guys, we've been playing SBURB for 3 years now. Most of us have beaten it like fifty times and it's barely a challenge anymore, but we still play it just to see what the game throws at us next. If you're a new player, you should definitely get a few complete games under your belt first. But if you're a vet looking for a fresh take on this classic, look no further than the SBURB Straight Character Challenge.

Simply put, this challenge puts your skills to the test in ways you'd never have to deal with normally. For example, in a normal game, most first denizens can be duoed by a hammerkind Soldier and any Space-aspect character. There have been sessions with as few as three players that walked away not just with a victory over the Black Queen, but a total obliteration of Derse's army.

But how do you deal with threats when you only have one set of tools? One Monk of Frost can be an invaluable ally against a Flame Ogre; going up against one with a team composed entirely of them would be suicide if handled in the usual manner. When you're forced to use a team made up of characters with the same class and aspect, it's a different game. Abilities that were previously useless become lifesavers. Methods you'd never try in a "real" game become viable.

THE RULES:
1) Use Winnie the Poop 2's SBURB Hacking Guide to ensure most of your players are assigned the same class and aspect. You are allowed a maximum of eight players. Note that a game requires at least three players to win, and you must have an Heir-class, a Space-aspect, and a Time-aspect for victory. Your Heir must share the common aspect, and your Space- and Time-aspects must share the common class. You may not make an Heir of Time, as that's ludicrously broken and goes against the entire point of this challenge. Heirs of Space are allowed if you're picking a difficult challenge (i.e. Philosophers of Peace, hell I might even allow you to use an Heir of Time on THAT shit)
2) Leave the random worldgen alone. This challenge is supposed to use random worlds.
3) All your characters must use the same strife specibus (though you are allowed to use different weapons for each character). Throw away or sell any specibi dropped from enemies.
4) All of your prototypings must relate to either your characters' class or aspect. For example, if you're doing a Knights of Thunder run then I expect your sprites to become some goddamn variant of electric warriors.
5) Under no circumstances are you allowed to prototype anything related to frogs pre-entry. Doing so means you get the Black King as your final boss instead. Compared to the Black Queen his melee hits like a freight train but he has no ranged attack to speak of and like a third of the HP. If you're doing an easy class/aspect I expect pre-entry double prototypings. If you're doing a REALLY easy class/aspect (fucking Thieves of Light, why don't they ever nerf this bullshit) then I expect at least one of your guys to prototype a fucking harlequin so you end up fighting Noir and don't get to just fucking sleep through your session while it basically wins itself. If you're doing Heirs of Breath then you'd better fucking prototype the First goddamn Guardian AND a harlequin or I swear to God I won't even fucking list your victory on the site.
6) One of your players is allowed to ascend to God Tier, and not your Time-aspect guy or your Heir, either. If you Godtier those guys, or more than one guy, and I find out it's an automatic disqualification. No restrictions on resurrection via dreamselves though, we're using normal rules on that.
7) Try to keep your time shenanigans to a minimum. I'll look the other way if your Time guy uses them to undo a total party kill but I won't be so lenient if he uses them to control the economy of an entire planet.

HOW TO PARTICIPATE:
Post the captchalogue code for your Ultimate Alchemy upon victory in this thread. This'll let me see how you won and what you did, and if there's no funny business you get in the List o' Winners, which is linked to in my sig. There's no limit to how many times you can do this so send me your code for every run you complete, and you'll get a new entry in The List every time.



NEWEST WINNERS:
Name - Weapon, Class/Aspect
------------------------
Sburbian - Axekind, Templars of Earth (my seventh run!)
Winnie the Poop 2 - Bladekind, Ninjas of Fire (congrats on your third run, bro)
BROSIDEN - Fistkind, Philosophers of Clockwork (HIS FIRST RUN AND HE GETS AN ULTRA NOIR ENDING, TRIPLE PROTOTYPED PRE-ENTRY AND DIDN'T EVEN GO GODTIER, HOLY SHIT)
ectoBiologist - Hammerkind, Bards of Law (holy shit this guy is a machine, victory #15 for him)
autonomousArctangent - Fistkind, Monks of Frost (made his game-required players sit out most of the game and powered through with just three monks, which balances out the fact that they were using Jack's fucking chainsaw arm from Madworld as a weapon from practically the beginning)

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Re: The SBURB Straight Character Challenge - Revision 6
Posted by Winnie the Poop 2 on 4/14/2012
You forgot to mention, if you're having trouble remembering low-level stuff because you've been focusing on endgame for the last three years, check out tentacleTherapist's SBURB FAQ. There's a reason people called it the best FAQ for SBURB until VERY recently.

Also, re: the challenge: just finished my first run. G4adxAopiMjnaUel is my code.

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Re: The SBURB Straight Character Challenge - Revision 6
Posted by Omega10 on 4/14/2012

Y699mjo1llawrDFejnCa

There's my first entry

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Re: The SBURB Straight Character Challenge - Revision 6
Posted by Sburbian on 4/14/2012 (Last edit: 4/14/2012)

Also, re: the challenge: just finished my first run. G4adxAopiMjnaUel is my code.

Nice, textbook Soldiers of Thunder run. Had to use your Time player to save your asses a couple times I see, but it's all good.

Y699mjo1llawrDFejnCa

There's my first entry

Nice first run there bro. Not everyone takes up Gunslingers on their first run, especially not Gunslingers of Iron, their movement penalties just aren't newb-friendly at all. Also haha at your prototypings, love how they're all Megaman characters.

EDIT: hahahahahaha nice try bro. I almost didn't catch it but I had a hunch when I realized all of your sprites were based off of Megaman 4 bosses. You threw a bunch of copies of that game at your sprites and one of them turned out to be Toad Man. DQ'd. Go back and do it right if you want to be on the list.

Ahhhhhhhhh you guys need to stop giving me ideas why do you do this...

Also the ectoBiologist made me crack up.

[Rimbaum]

Augh I think this fic was just a bad idea. I had some heady delusions going into it and I just don't think they manifested well. These fics seem to benefit from brevity; I really need to give myself a 3-page max and learn to live with that.
Anyhow, I hope some of what I intended gets through.


The Blind Spot and the Missing Piece

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Spades Slick is not a man who easily trusts others. However, he is also not a patient man, nor a man very in control of his desires. This has led to no few whimsical heat-of-the-moment seductions for him; his tendency to see what he wants and immediately grab for it is both his greatest strength and weakness. On the whole, he doesn't think much of them. He can pretty much size up the potential threat of most people he meets within a few minutes, and can catch a plant rapidly. He has no patience for delicate social interactions, but he can tell when somebody lies to him.

Not that there's many dames planted to kill him anymore. That was more a Kingpin thing; with his lackeys scrabbling at the leftover pieces of pie, there's really only the Felt and the cops to worry about. Of those, the cops are mostly in his pocket, and the Felt wage war in their own haphazard way. Really it's only Problem Sleuth who poses the, well, problem, and while that makes things unpredictable and unbelievably frustrating, at least Slick doesn't have to worry about his latest girlfriend gearing up to shiv him in the back.

None of them ever meant much to him. Well, not after the first, but Slick doesn't think of her ever. Ever. And the fact that she's spinning most of the gears behind his greatest enemies doesn't mean anything. It doesn't. He flat outright refuses to consider her.

So none of his other girlfriends meant anything. Just distraction, enjoyment, some time away from managing his many enterprises, orchestrating his many payoffs, and having midnight knife fights through time with an infinite number of green assholes. And his recent disaster with Problem Sleuth. But he doesn't want to consider that either. So all in all, he could use a good distraction.

But he's honestly a little surprised at what a distraction this dame is turning out to be. There's something about her. She's not as drop-dead gorgeous as some of his other flings, true, but she's clever and observant and a whole lot smarter than most of the women who pass his way. She's spunky; he didn't think he'd like that but he does. She doesn't put up with any crap from him. She's proving to be a challenge, which is not a thing he usually wants in a relationship, no matter how fleeting. He's got enough to deal with in the rest of his life to want to puzzle out some hysterical dame.

But this one, he's having to make an exception for.

She reminds him of someone. He can't think of who, though. None of his past girlfriends were this smart. Most of them he just liked having drape off his arm and be sparkling and stunning, somebody to parade around and look at- another big gem to add to the pile in the safe. This dame isn't like that. No sparkling dresses, for one, just practical, with a nice hat, and funny as hell (though, she has a penchant for corsets he likes, and she sure wears one well). He can't treat her like the rest, and doesn't. She's something else- but what, he just can't figure out.

So he takes her out to dinner. She talks, smiles, bats challenges and insults at him, and he finds himself grinning and laughing and genuinely enjoying himself with a lady in a way he never really has. (Knowing she's enjoying herself as much as he is is just... nice, for a change. He can tell, of course. He always knows when someone's lying to him.) He throws around insults with the boys, of course, and with Problem Sleuth (but he's not going to think about that particular disaster just now); however, a lady willing to step up and play dirty is new. And Spades Slick likes novelty.

He wish he could figure out who she reminded him of, though. It keeps bugging him.

It annoys him through dinner, just a little, a nagging certainty that this hysterical dame is somebody he knew once, or related to someone he knew once, or he's seen her before somewhere. It doesn't stop him from busting a gut laughing at her ridiculous stories- one about a pair of her girlfriends accidentally inheriting a brothel or something strikes him as particularly hilarious. She's clearly told it a dozen times, but it's just allowed her to refine it. She's a good storyteller when she gets going. He likes that. It reminds him of someone.

Of course, all good things must end. This particular good thing ends just before dessert, as Slick is reclining with a glass of something strong and dark and very red, and his lady is contemplating a variety of chocolate cakes that pretty much all look the same to him. He's watching her, still just racking his brain for the missing piece. That's when this good thing ends for Spades Slick.

There's a crash of shattering glass, and Slick is already on his feet, a flush of spades in his hand and his teeth bared in his fighting snarl. A man follows the bullets through the window, thrown straight through. He hits the ground and slides, firing back through the broken window the whole way, coming to a stop at Slick's feet. One of his shots must have connected; there's a grunt outside the window and the delayed sound of a body hitting pavement.

Spades Slick looks down into a face he'd been hoping to go a long time before seeing again. It's roughed up and blossoming into bruises, and sporting what looks like somebody's footprint. His duster is scuffed. He's got a key in each hand and has them pointed straight up at Slick's face. And the last time Slick saw him, the two of them were screaming bloody murder while trying to enact just that.

Problem Sleuth glares up at him as Slick automatically brings a pair of cards out to match the keys. Then he gets a forced light-hearted expression on, and half-smiles around all the weapons. "Hey there Slick," he says, his tone forced too. "Long time no see."

Spades Slick made a promise, not so long ago. "The next time I see that bastard," he said, "I'm gonna shove a knife down his throat before he can speak." Slick's a little sad (but mostly, just unbelievably furious) that his promise got broken already. That's what a few weeks of soft living can do to you. Makes you slow to react. Well, he'll at least get a few stabs in before Sleuth gets a chance to talk more.

Sleuth fires too late, missing as Slick twirls and comes in on a diagonal with a pair of extremely sharp cards. He doesn't get them into Problem Sleuth, though, because just as he's about to, he hears a screaming "Nooooooooo!" and his girlfriend leaps between him and prone Sleuth. He almost puts a carving knife and a switchblade through her stomach, actually, but gets back in time.

She's got tears in her eyes, her hands clasped in front of her. "Please, don't," she says.

"Lady," Spades Slick says, "I don't think you know what you're getting into."

But she seems to. She looks at him seriously and tearfully and asks him to stop again. Then she looks down, behind her, to key-toting Sleuth, and repeats herself to him.

Sleuth says nothing for a moment, and Slick is still trying to figure out how to salvage this whole mess. But then Sleuth responds. "If that's what you want, lady," he says, and his voice is full of regret and misery and some other emotions Slick already saw too much of much too recently. And his girlfriend is looking at Problem Sleuth with tears in her eyes and something that looks like the way she'd just started to look at Slick himself, and Slick realizes a few things all of a sudden.

The first is that his girlfriend used to be some sort of item with Problem Sleuth. He knows he's never met her before recently, but looking at them now, he just knows. Just like he knows she's still at least a little in love with him.

The second is his missing piece. Looking at her, his girlfriend reminds him so much of Sleuth that he can barely believe he didn't see it before. He must have been blocking out all of Sleuth's influence so much that he kept himself willingly blind to it. She must have gone steady with him a long time; their mannerisms are all the same. He'd figure them to be siblings if there wasn't that something in the way they looked at each other.

The third is that she's just not as great of a Problem Sleuth as Problem Sleuth is. He didn't know that's what he was after, at the time, but it was, and Spades Slick won't lie to himself. He still likes her. But all those things he liked- the silly stories, the stupid insults, the feeling of just being a break from the real world- that's all Sleuth stuff. That's what he got with him.

The fourth thing he realizes is that he doesn't want to kill Problem Sleuth. Oh, he wants to stab him, alright, but he no longer wants to see Sleuth's cold corpse laid out in front of him. Things have faded enough. He'd like to beat the crap out of him. He'd like to throttle him and smack him around and generally make the bastard wish he'd never crossed Slick, but he doesn't want him dead for the first time in two months.

The fifth thought, and least important, is somehow the most disorienting; simply the sudden realization that everybody in this room has slept with each other, and he's the last one to know.

So Spades Slick looks at them, looking at each other. Sleuth turns back, meets Slick's eyes around the curve of Slick's girlfriend's hip. And Slick, for the first time in his life, slowly takes his cards and holds them up, then shoves them in his jacket. Sleuth's eyes (and keys) are following him. After a minute of tense nothing, Sleuth pockets his keys. Everybody looks like they're about to talk.

Spades Slick walks out of the room. That's the only way he can deal with this. He's not used to mercy, or even pity, and he's no happier feeling the emotions than having them directed at him. So he leaves. They'll put the bill for the meals on his tab, and he'll deal with it later. He feels oddly numb.

He sits in his car for a few minutes before he does anything with it, just sitting and absorbing everything and trying to justify it with the things he thought were true ten minutes ago. It doesn't really jive. Not with him, not with the person he thought he was, not with the person he thought Sleuth was. He's been waiting for her, he realizes belatedly. Waiting for her to choose him over Problem Sleuth. He grimaces. His scar pulls at his cheek. He turns the keys and pulls out into the street.

He's just making the turn off the street, past the goon on the pavement with the loaded pencil and the bullet through the forehead, and the crowd of onlookers, and he can't even see her. He's not sure if he wants to, anymore.

There's a banging on his passenger-side window as he goes to turn, though, and he looks back in a sort of stupid hope. He hates stuff on the passenger side; he's got to turn his head so damn far to see it. That's why he likes having Droog or Deuce on that side, covering his blind spot.

But it's not her.

It's his missing piece.

He's beat-up and scruffy and still has that footprint on his face, and he looks tired and frustrated and grim as he looks in the window.

He doesn't say anything, and for a moment, Slick doesn't either. He takes a breath, glaring at Sleuth out his passenger-side window. Then, scowling, he throws the door open and growls "Get in the fucking car," and Sleuth slides in with a look of half awkward worry and half embarrassed relief.

Spades Slick starts driving. It'd be a lot easier if he'd just left Sleuth on the curb. He's got no guarantee that anything's going to change. No promise that they'll work things out, and no real hope that the things they said to each other are forgettable.

But he can always tell when somebody's lying. And he'd be lying if he told himself he wasn't glad Problem Sleuth, and not their mutual ex-girlfriend, was the one to come after him.

ILU PATH


._. can I request more jealous Droog fic?

[Kassiopeia]

@Path. That was amazing. As ever. (also I want more Hysterical Dame and/or Nervous Broad cameo??? :3)
@linguisticDoctor: oh god yes. You are fantastic. Elder!Kanaya is... strangely endearing? The last little snapshot in particular was pretty chilling. (also, I'm glad you enjoyed Vindicatrix, but, uh, "Hearts & Arrows" was my Vampnaya fic~? Vindicatrix was the one where Eridan is a whiny git and Scratch orchestrates vengeance upon him :3

[emesis]

@path

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The fifth thought, and least important, is somehow the most disorienting; simply the sudden realization that everybody in this room has slept with each other, and he's the last one to know. LOL awkwaard.

But aaa Hysterical Dame, so happy she popped up.

3333333333333333

[SkaianRedeemer]

@path

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The fifth thought, and least important, is somehow the most disorienting; simply the sudden realization that everybody in this room has slept with each other, and he's the last one to know.

Also my favourite line, since it just pops out amid Spade's introspection. Never leave, path!

[sebastian]

@ anonymousComrade: ;-; Nepetaaaaa. That was adorable. And seriously, don't stop the Karkat/Terezi. You write it too well. :]

Oh, and yeah. Have some more Harry Potter shenanigans.

Wizardstuck > Enter Castle

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A few notes.

I dropped the quirks and colors because it didn't make as much sense when it wasn't from Harry's POV, and anyway, it would have been super annoying with all this dialogue.

Yes, I did half-ass Hagrid's accent. I don't remember what it's actually supposed to be, but it's all for teh lolz anyway, so I rolled with it.

Poor Tavros. But, that enchantment is a real thing in the books (although only mentioned in passing and never actually elaborated upon), but anyway, I intend to have fun with that magical hoverchair.

Lots of Nepeta and Equius because of updates. ;-;

And I think that's it. Sorting next hopefully. I just figured a transition would be fun.

Love this, please do more.

[Katrika]

Sorry for lame.

Portrait

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Earliest memory.

STRONG white arms, enfolding, protecting, holding. Soothing voice, white fingers softly brush forehead. Sweet smell? Water? No. Milk. Gently held to mouth, drink up. Reach out to pat. Cry of pain. Blood. A bruise.

Time passes.

He’s STRONG. Strength is good, right? Strength is survival. Strength is not being culled. He loves being strong. Other things he loves?
* Being a blueblood - Superiority, that’s it. That’s what it’s all about in the end. Some are hatched to be on top and some are hatched to be on the bottom, and that’s how it should be. It’s comforting, you know? Knowing your place in the world right from the start. THESE are who you listen to and protect, THESE are who you order around and stomp it.
* Aurthour - Another bruise. Another one. He hadn’t even tried to touch his beloved lusus this time, it had been an accident. He’d fallen asleep over the worktable and Aurthour had gently tapped him to wake him up and he’d been half asleep, he swears. Alright? He never would have swatted away Aurthour’s hand if he’d been awake. They’re lucky it was only a bruise. Last time it was a broken wrist.
* Fine art - O-oh god, let’s just move on.
* Archery - Snap. Snap. Snap. The pile of broken bows mounts nightly.
* Building things - As does the pile of broken robots. He gets so angry, it’s either that or fight lowbloods, and fighting lowbloods is too messy. He’s tried it.

Time passes. He has friends, or at least aquaintences. Most are too low to be real friends, of course. Anyway, friendship is a disease, isn’t it? So aquaintences are better.
* Karkat - How delightfully depraved, taking orders from him.
* Aradia - Why didn’t she say goodbye?
* Tavros - Nothing remarkable. Wouldn't let me give him centaur legs.
* Sollux - Why him and not me? Why?
* Nepeta - Please be safe. Please.
* Kanaya - She listens. It’s helpful.
* Terezi - Sometimes I think she’s staring at me.
* Vriska - I suppose she’s appropriately twisted for a blueblood.
* Gamzee - Only lived up to his potential when it was unwanted.
* Eridan - Ah, the traditional fued.
* Feferi - My Empress.


He’s not strong enough. He’s not strong enough to kneel like he should, to prostrate himself. Nor is he strong enough to fully ignore the order. Not strong enough to tear his eyes away from the bow. Not strong enough to end it with a single punch, like he could have, as his former…friend choked the life out of him, mocking him with the murder weapon. Not strong enough not to SMILE.

There’s STRONG, and then there’s strong, and mark my words, he was both, but he was FLAWED.

Who can talk about flaws?
Karkat, too angry.
Aradia, too 0kay.
Tavros, too much of a doormat.
Sollux, too much in two minds.
Nepeta, too impulsive.
Kanaya, too naïve.
Terezi, too vengeful.
Vriska, too proud.
Gamzee, too crazy.
Eridan, too hopeless.
Feferi, too forgiving.

But this is Equius, and he is dead.

[X15lm204]

@Everyone in this thread who continues to be self-deprecating: STOP IT YOU ARE ALL GENIUSES

@Dogfish: Oh wow everyone seems to have missed this one last night, but here's a belated and well-deserved !

[anonymousComrade]

@Everyone in this thread who continues to be self-deprecating: STOP IT YOU ARE ALL GENIUSES

How I wish I could believe that

In other news, I changed Rogue of Heart's title (because One True Pairing fits just so much better, and also to break this dumb naming scheme I've had going on)

Also I'm thinking of writing a short epilogue to it because I'm a sucker

Fuck you guys so much for dragging me into this mess

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By "fuck" I mean "thank"

Seriously, this shit's fun

[arcaneCalligramancer]

ok i was chatting with lucidSeraph and have discovered its terrible, eldritch secret identity

read but beware for the Seraph of Light and Shadow may unfold its seven wings over you and cast you into a realm of nightmares unending

ia, ia! Seraphim f'taghn!

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THE BLACK SCEPTER OF THE LUCID SERAPH (Artifact ****)

The Black Scepter is a simple, yard-long rod of obsidian and ebony, decorated with strange sigils inlaid in gold and silver and capped with a simple disc of soulsteel inscribed with a seven-pointed spiral. When attuned to (at the cost of eight motes of Essence) the rod functions as a Soulsteel Goremaul (see Exalted 2e Core, pp 386), but that is the least of its powers.

Upon attunement, the sigils decorating the Black Scepter begin to shift and writhe, endlessly changing but eternally describing the inevitable end of all things. At the cost of five motes of Essence, any who can perceive the Black Scepter suffer a fear-based Emotion effect, inflicting an internal penalty equal to (1/2 wielder's Permanent Essence rating) to all actions, physical or social, that directly oppose the bearer of the Black Scepter. This unnatural mental influence lasts for one scene and can be ignored for a single action at a cost of one point of willpower. Doing so four times renders the victim immune for the duration of the scene.

At the cost of 6 motes of Essence and one point of temporary Willpower, the spiral disc begins to whirl, generating a strange aura that warps space and draws in light. The sigils decorating the Black Scepter vanish, before reappearing in the air around the wielder, foretelling the death and destruction of all those who perceive them. The caster makes an unblockable, undodgeable attack using (Charisma or Manipulation + Linguistics + Essence) on all those who perceive the sigils, inflicting (Linguistics) dice of unsoakable, lethal damage.

THE BLEAK CROWN OF THE LUCID SERAPH (Artifact ****)

The Bleak Crown is a austere band of iron, all clean, straight lines and smooth, gleaming metal. A stylized eye of black agate is centered over the forehead of the wearer, the pupil of which is hollow and functions as a slot for a Hearthstone.

Attuning to the Bleak Crown costs eight motes of Essence, causing delicate traceries of violet light to flash along the surface of the crown for an instant before focusing on the agate eye. As long as the crown is attuned and worn, the bearer is able to perceive and interact with both material and immaterial targets, and can perfectly perceive even invisible creatures. In addition, the wearer is granted the effects of the All-Encompassing Sorcerer's Sight Charm (Exalted 2e Core, pp 222). The Bleak Crown also generates an aura of unease, increasing any fear-based penalties the bearer might generate by 2.

At the cost of ten motes and a single point of temporary willpower, the eye of the Bleak Crown shuts, and a horrific aura of purple fire surrounds the caster for a moment, before springing up in a pillar of burning un-light and spreading out into a vast image of the bearer, allowing everyone within (bearer's permanent Essence) miles to see and hear her, even through the chaos of battle (though the voice of the caster is occasionally undercut by a deep, rumbling growl). This vast image lasts for at least a minute and as long as a scene.

THE GOBLET OF TEARS (ARTIFACT ???)

The Goblet of Tears is the third and final part of the Panoply of the Lucid Seraph, a cursed cup not seen for centuries. None living know what terrible powers this artifact possesses, but the blind seers of the Nine Towers whisper that when the Goblet, Scepter and Crown are united once more, the Lucid Seraph will be granted terrible, awful power that will lead to the ruination of all that live and love.

[lucidSeraph]

ok i was chatting with lucidSeraph and have discovered its terrible, eldritch secret identity

read but beware for the Seraph of Light and Shadow may unfold its seven wings over you and cast you into a realm of nightmares unending

ia, ia! Seraphim f'taghn!

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THE BLACK SCEPTER OF THE LUCID SERAPH (Artifact ****)

The Black Scepter is a simple, yard-long rod of obsidian and ebony, decorated with strange sigils inlaid in gold and silver and capped with a simple disc of soulsteel inscribed with a seven-pointed spiral. When attuned to (at the cost of eight motes of Essence) the rod functions as a Soulsteel Goremaul (see Exalted 2e Core, pp 386), but that is the least of its powers.

Upon attunement, the sigils decorating the Black Scepter begin to shift and writhe, endlessly changing but eternally describing the inevitable end of all things. At the cost of five motes of Essence, any who can perceive the Black Scepter suffer a fear-based Emotion effect, inflicting an internal penalty equal to (1/2 wielder's Permanent Essence rating) to all actions, physical or social, that directly oppose the bearer of the Black Scepter. This unnatural mental influence lasts for one scene and can be ignored for a single action at a cost of one point of willpower. Doing so four times renders the victim immune for the duration of the scene.

At the cost of 6 motes of Essence and one point of temporary Willpower, the spiral disc begins to whirl, generating a strange aura that warps space and draws in light. The sigils decorating the Black Scepter vanish, before reappearing in the air around the wielder, foretelling the death and destruction of all those who perceive them. The caster makes an unblockable, undodgeable attack using (Charisma or Manipulation + Linguistics + Essence) on all those who perceive the sigils, inflicting (Linguistics) dice of unsoakable, lethal damage.

THE BLEAK CROWN OF THE LUCID SERAPH (Artifact ****)

The Bleak Crown is a austere band of iron, all clean, straight lines and smooth, gleaming metal. A stylized eye of black agate is centered over the forehead of the wearer, the pupil of which is hollow and functions as a slot for a Hearthstone.

Attuning to the Bleak Crown costs eight motes of Essence, causing delicate traceries of violet light to flash along the surface of the crown for an instant before focusing on the agate eye. As long as the crown is attuned and worn, the bearer is able to perceive and interact with both material and immaterial targets, and can perfectly perceive even invisible creatures. In addition, the wearer is granted the effects of the All-Encompassing Sorcerer's Sight Charm (Exalted 2e Core, pp 222). The Bleak Crown also generates an aura of unease, increasing any fear-based penalties the bearer might generate by 2.

At the cost of ten motes and a single point of temporary willpower, the eye of the Bleak Crown shuts, and a horrific aura of purple fire surrounds the caster for a moment, before springing up in a pillar of burning un-light and spreading out into a vast image of the bearer, allowing everyone within (bearer's permanent Essence) miles to see and hear her, even through the chaos of battle (though the voice of the caster is occasionally undercut by a deep, rumbling growl). This vast image lasts for at least a minute and as long as a scene.

THE GOBLET OF TEARS (ARTIFACT ???)

The Goblet of Tears is the third and final part of the Panoply of the Lucid Seraph, a cursed cup not seen for centuries. None living know what terrible powers this artifact possesses, but the blind seers of the Nine Towers whisper that when the Goblet, Scepter and Crown are united once more, the Lucid Seraph will be granted terrible, awful power that will lead to the ruination of all that live and love.

I remain uncertain of what I did to deserve such an honor, but also oddly pleased.

[lantadyme]

@linguisticDoctor: Guh, that is so spooky and awesome, man. Excellent work.
@Path: I love the atmosphere you throw into these things. It feels so different and fresh and it's always a fun little experience. I can see what you mean about it being too long and a little too much. I think where it suffers a bit is the exposition dump. There's too much in the beginning. Once you hit the action it picks up quite a bit, so I don't think you did anything wrong, you just need to slim that down a tad. Also, I am loving so much how you can use their names over and over again in one sentence and it never feels like too much.

[Kassiopeia]

I remain uncertain of what I did to deserve such an honor, but also oddly pleased.

Oh come now I maintain that you are fully cognizant of your wicked schemes

My signature says so and everything

[mutecebu]

One of my first attempts at Hussnastian writing. Here goes.


Be Smart About It

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Nepeta: React.

You are reacting so hard right now. Your moirail is dead! Fortunately, you saw the whole thing and know exactly what you're up against.

It scares the crap out of you.

The good news is, you're silent huntress. Nothing can hear you this far away!

Nepeta: Abscond!

You've got to get out of here. Back to your room. Right. Nothing can get to you in your room.

Nepeta: Ponder.

He killed Equius. You saw it. You'll have to get back at him, somehow. But how? He's too strong. He's probably the most dangerous troll on this asteroid!

This is, of course, a rather narrow superlative, since you don't know of any other particularly dangerous trolls at the moment.

One thing is for sure. If you're going to avenge your moirail, you're going to have to be smart about it.

Nepeta: Be smart about it.

You simply cannot beat Gamzee at a murder-off. He is simply the best there is.

You'll need to be better.

You're at the peak of your Echeladder right now. There's no way around it. With your current equipment, you'll be turned into meow mix before you can say "nepeta cataria".

So you'll need new equipment.

Nepeta: Check on the humans.

Right! You whip out your husktop to see if any of the human's alchemy artifacts can give you an edge.

Because you'll need to be especially edgy.

Wow. Is that...?

==>

Is that a suit of powered armor?

Nepeta: Sketch.

You grab the code. This definitely bodes well for your new campaign of revenge that you so far haven't told anyone about.

Shoot, do you really think you should tell someone?

Nepeta: Update Karkat on schemes.

You sent a quick ping to him detailing your revenge plot and the death of Equius, in a conversation we've probably already read.

Man, he sounds mad.

Nepeta: Alchemize Clothes && Iron Man Suit.

You create the METALLIKAT ARMOR.

Wearing gives you the urge to hunt down some edgy toms flying a jet plane. You don't know why.

Nepeta: Alchemize Metallikat Armor || Teapot.

You create the MECHAMEOWMILE SLAYERSUIT.

This is without a doubt the most incredibly adorabloodthirsty thing you have ever alchemized. I mean, look at it.

Nepeta: Alchemize Claws || Slayersuit.

You create the MECHAHUNTRESS'S BARDBANES.

That's probably not their real name, but you're out to get a bard, and you're going to need anti-bard weaponry for it.

They only seem to work when you're wearing the suit. That shouldn't be a problem.

Karkat: Attempt to avert further bloodshed.

You suddenly understand nothing.

She saw him, and now she's going after him? She's nuts!

You try to reach her and tell her how absolutely preposterous this idea is. She's not biting. She says something about being stronger than ever. You say huh? She says she did some alchemy and now she's got some incredibly awesome equipment. You say oh.

Nepeta: Start hunting.

Look out, Bard of Rage.

The Rogue has got some meowracles of her own.

Nepeta: alchemize Samurai Pizza Cats armor:

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[Red Pen]

I am not going to rewrite this chapter for the twentieth time. I am going to stop rewriting it over and over and I am going to post it. This is just getting silly. Everyone will say what is this fanfic I do not even remember it.

This story is also on AO3!

Previously, on Unhinged...
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Unhinged - part 15

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Time passed.

A few minutes in a universe left behind. An hour on the planets silently orbiting Skaia. And on Derse, and handful of days, twisting in on themselves, warping around the planet's twisted towers, so close to the realm of the elder gods.

They called her the Taciturn Tyrant, Jack's stoic little archagent. Her door was always locked, she had no political power, and yet she ran Derse. Jack came to her for everything now; couldn't go an hour without talking to her, to vent, to rant, to pour out his mounting suspicions of subterfuge and hidden assassins, his words garbled by some exhaustion-drunk high because she'd strung him taut and scared him out of sleeping.

It wouldn't have worked on a human, she mused. It shouldn't have worked on a Dersite. But she was thirteen, a little girl, scared and powerless, and when she struck, nobody saw it coming.

She was a horrible person. But she was winning.

- - - - - - - - - -

The man once known as the Draconian Dignitary sat in the shadows at the far end of the bar in a dimly lit rathskeller, exhaling cigarette smoke and making hazy clouds in the air around him. There was a shotglass on the dark purple wood in front of him, which he fiddled with from time to time without drinking. He wasn't sober at the moment, but neither was he drunk, merely buzzed to the point where the world became slightly fuzzy at the edges.

He didn't like being drunk. Preferred his mind sharp, but it was a good, sustainable balance; keeping just enough alcohol in his system to let him slip into a kind of trance. Events happened one after another, going by in a haze, and he was detached from it all, as if it was happening to someone else.

He downed the shotglass, at last, and turned to look fuzzily at where Droll was spinning in dizzying circles on the barstool next to him. "Stop that."

Droll did, by falling off his chair. "Ow."

"It serves you right. You're going to make yourself sick, and then they'll think we're drunk and kick us out."

"I am drunk, Draconian!"

The Dignitary put his cigarette out in an ashtray on the bartop. "Stop being so energetic. You almost died recently, so act like it." He took a moment to adjust the collar and cuffs of his suit, casually eyeing the rest of the bar to make sure they weren't overheard, more out of habit than because he really had anything important to say. The closest person to them, a short black pawn with a soldier's build, caught his eye and flipped him off before returning to her drink.

As Droll climbed back up onto the barstool, he laid two official-looking slips of paper out across the countertop. The other Dersite peered at them curiously.

"What're those?"

"Boarding passes for the Derse-to-Earth shuttles. If Jack..." His eyes flickered to the woman nearby once again, but she was making a point of ignoring them. Nevertheless, he lowered his voice. Being on first name terms with the Sovereign Slayer wasn't going to earn them any friends. "If Jack changes his mind about letting us go, we'll need to get off-planet in a hurry." He'd heard things about Earth. A barren, scarred wasteland, a place you went because you had something to run from, and more shuttles were leaving for it every day. Exile started to look pretty good, with Jack in charge.

"Those shuttles don't come back," Droll explained patiently, as if he wasn't sure Draconian was aware of this detail.

"I know."

The two of them sat in silence for a while. Draconian fiddled with his shot glass without really drinking, and the quiet strains of a piano drifted from a stage somewhere in the back. They'd played these bars once, not so very long ago. Draconian with his saxophone, Droll on the clarinet, Jack's hands flickering across the ivories like he wanted to beat them apart and Hegemonic standing stoically and plucking slowly at the bassline, while around them the world faded away and all their constant bickering wasn't important anymore, because you needed a crew to play the music.

After a while, Droll pulled a crumpled violet envelope out of his pocket: his last invitation, the one for Jack Noir. "Jack gave his word that he wasn't gonna kill us or exile us. Jack keeps his promises."

"I know he does. But that thing isn't Jack anymore."

Droll spread the invitation out carefully on the bartop, next to the shuttle tickets. "That's not true. He's still Jack and it's not his fault he's crazy, and we're his crew and we're supposed to be helping him."

"He's made it fairly clear that he doesn't want our help."

"But he needs our help. It's not his fault."

"It's not our problem anymore, Droll."

"It's not his fault," Droll murmured quietly, looking despondently down at the two tickets and the memorial invitation. "Does this mean we're not going to have the memorial?"

A sigh from the Dignitary, who didn't answer.

"I bought all those decorations, and we won't even get to use them. It's not his fault."

"You've said, Droll."

"No, Draconain, it's... it's not his fault!"

Draconian turned his head at Drolls sudden rise in pitch, and saw the little Dersite starting down at the crumpled invitation, his eyes wide. "It's not his fault!!"

"Droll...?"

But Droll was ignoring him, speaking rapidly, as if quoting something and trying to force the words out before he forgot them. "They wanted me to become Jack Noir's therapist, and instead I decided to gain his trust and slowly drive him insane! Rose said that! I heard her! She and the Knight are plotting together and they're doing something to Jack, she's doing something to him, and that's why he's acting like this, and then she told him it was you and he believed her and he doesn't even know!!" He stared up at Draconian frantically. "I was trying to tell you before but I couldn't remember! Rose is the reason Jack is crazy!!"

For a long time, Draconian just gazed at him, carefully, slowly controlling his breathing. Droll watched him nervously, waiting for a response.

It wasn't the ring. It was never the ring. It was the girl.

"Alright." Draconian stood up, took Droll by the shoulder and steered him quickly towards the door. "We don't need to discuss this here. Let's go."

"Are you mad?"

His chitinous hand tightened imperceptibly on Droll's shoulder. "Yes. Very."

And yet not as mad as he could have been. Here, suddenly, was something he could do, something he could fix. And someone he could kill to make the problem go away. He was on familiar ground again.

"We've gotta stop her, right?" the Courtyard Droll asked as they left the rathskeller and started striding quickly down the street outside. "We can't let her do that and get away with it. We've gotta-"

Draconian ducked into an alleyway and cast a quick glance behind them to make sure no one was following. "Of course we're going to stop her." He paused for a second, and exhaled with a slow hiss. "Oh, damn. My radio's in your office. Give me yours."

Droll handed it over without question, and Draconian set it to the general channel, the one used for commanding imps, before pressing the talk button. "New orders for those of you guarding the girl. The Slayer doesn't want her anymore. Kill her."

He waited, and over the static heard an imp squeak in the affirmative. There was a pause, a grisly crack, a high-pitched shriek of pain, and then radio silence.

With a satisfied nod, Draconian handed the radio back to Droll. "Come on. It's high time we got back to the palace."

"Weren't we kind of sort of exiled from there?"

He nodded, Jack's voice echoing in his head. If I ever see you again I'm running this sword through your chest. Part of him honestly didn't want to go back, part of him knew he'd die if he tried it.

But when it was your crew, there were things you had to do anyway.

- - - - - - - - - -

Hidden in the recessed stairwell at the entrance to the bar, the Warpainted Pariah pressed herself to the dark purple bricks and listened intently as Droll and Draconian moved on and their voices died away.

Of all the bars they could have discussed that in, they'd would up not three feet from her.

They were gone, but she waited, made sure. Counted to twenty in her head, and then sprinted off down the street, leaving a trail of oily black footprints behind her.

The headquarters of the Medium's tiny resistance force was a cramped apartment situated above a shady liquor store. Pariah rushed up the violet-metal stairs of the fire escape and pounded frantically on the window screen until his majesty the Prince snapped the blinds open. "'Sup?"

"We need to get her out now." she commanded, paused, saluted, and rephrased. "Sir. I'm sorry sir. We need to get her out now, sir."

Dave pushed the window open and leaned out of the sill. "You mean Rose? What happened?"

"The Dignitary knows about your plan, and he's on his way to tell the Slayer. Her body on LoLaR is dead by now and her dreamself will be next. We have to get her out of the palace before-" She was cut off as Dave streaked past her, soaring off into the skies of Derse as fast as he could fly, not even waiting for her to finish. "Your majesty, wait! You don't have a weapon, you can't... DAVE!!"

But the Prince of the Moon was already long gone.

- - - - - - - - - -

...and still fast asleep on LoHaC, his mouth hanging slightly open, his sunglasses askew, unaware of the chaos raging around him. The air was filled with the angry howls and shrieks of imps attacking and dying, and as Davesprite hovered with his eyes blasting streaks of blinding orange through the window, he worried they'd wake him up.

Jade was having trouble with the door; the wood was splintering and buckling as creature after creature pounded against it, their numbers too great for her to shoo them away. The table and mixing equipment she'd barricaded it with creaked ominously and threatened to topple, and Davesprite could do nothing because the second he let up, winged, serpentine basilisks would come clawing their way in through the window.

GG: dave what do we dooooo D:
TG: well pretty soon here
TG: were gonna have to wake me up
TG: if they get in here and im still asleep
TG: might as well change my chumhandle to
TG: like
TG: turntechGoddead
TG: turntechSmearonthecarpet
GG: but if we wake you up you cant save rose!!!
GG: i don't want her to die dave but i don't want you to die either!!
TG: keeping the turntech though that parts cool
GG: and i don't know what to do!
GG: i don't know what's going to happen next!!
TG: jade we need to wake me up
TG: we cant wait much longer
GG: but rose!!!! :(
TG: i know
TG: but its her dreamself and shes gonna go on living anyway
TG: you know that
GG: DAVE THAT IS TERRIBLE!! >:(

He would have responded, justified himself, but he paused at the realization that the creatures outside had abruptly gone silent. Just beyond the door there was the unmistakable sound of radio static.

TG: what was that
GG: they're stopping?
GG: one of them has something, i think it is a walky-talky! they are all listening to it.

In the sudden stillness the two of them listened, and the static buzzed on in the hallway outside.

"New orders for those of you guarding the girl. The Slayer doesn't want her anymore. Kill her."

Davesprite winced at the crack, the cry of pain.

And the silence.

Then the imps and ogres and other game enemies began attacking again, beating themselves against the doors and windows. Davesprite shot another random laser, something akin to panic rising in his chest. He'd failed. He was supposed to be keeping them alive, and he'd failed. Jade's green text was racing across his vision.

GG: oh my god oh my god oh my god
GG: no no no no no no no no!!!!!
GG: they killed her dave they killed her they killed rose what do we do!!!!!

-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] and turntechGodhead [TG] --

- - - - - - - - - -

Somewhere on LoLaR, surrounded by grist, hammer tossed carelessly at his feet after bashing in the head of an imp carrying a radio, John Egbert grinned and hoisted a peacefully sleeping Rose in his arms.

EB: don't worry, guys.
EB: i've got her!

[KarneWarrior]

The Egbert turnabout. Somehow expected and unexpected all at once.


In other news, I decided to swim through my post archive and nab all the Trial by Void and Homeworld chapters I've written so far. So if you feel behind, the whole series is in my sig now! Although I probably won't keep it updated very well...

Whatever. It was still an hour of my life doing something totally useless and boring, and all for you people. The things I do for random internet people...

[NotAPumpkin]

Ohmygoodnessyesit'sUnhinged

Red Pen, you are amazing.

[draconicAlgorithm]

I don't even really know what spawned this, just a weird sort of "what if?" thought. And suddenly, I had to write it. Oh, by the way, blood.

Killer

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Eridan ran through the depths of the lab, praying not to be found. He tried to make as little sound as he could, but it was hard, and the blind panic made him stumble, made him falter. He could hardly see, it was too dark and he'd lost his glasses and it was too blurry. His wand was gone, in two pieces and tossed aside when he'd tried to use it. He was weaponless, defenseless, and scared out of his mind—

Ohgodohgodohgod did he just hear a sound behind him?

He couldn't help it. He paused, turned, and tried as hard as he could to see more than a few feet away. He even squinted, but nothing worked. All he saw was more and more shadow. He turned back ahead. Nothing good would come out of looking back. He had to keep going, had to try to survive. He didn't want to die at the hands of that madman. Not like this.

Finally, the hallway ended. Eridan cautiously walked into the room. The farther he went, the darker it became, but he somehow managed to tiptoe around all the discarded pieces of metal that littered the space. If he knocked into any of those, he'd be found out for sure.

The room went on and on. It was dusty and old, and it smelled as though no one had been here for ages. The walls and floors creaked as he walked, and every time they did, he was sure someone was behind him, ready to spill his blood, ready to kill him. He fought the panic and paranoia and looked for something, anything, that he could use as a weapon.

And then he found it. It was an old abandoned alchemiter, looking a little rusted but probably still workable. His spirits soared. He still had the totem from when Kanaya had made his wand. Maybe, if he could make another, he could—

He stopped when he felt something cold and metallic touch his neck. His blood ran cold as a voice whispered in his ear.

"Hello, Eridan."

"Oh god, oh god, please don't kill me, I'll do anything—" Eridan rambled, and as he did, the metal disappeared.

"Turn around, you blubbering fucking pansy." He did so, slowly, but he knew what he would see. It still terrified him when he did.

Karkat. Blood still stained his shirt and sickle, and his expression hadn't changed. His face, usually contorted in rage, had become calm, almost serene. Only a slight smile tugged at his lips. When he saw him again, Eridan lost it.

"Why, Kar? Why did you kill them? Fef, Kan, even Sol! They were your friends! Just like I am!"

"Friends?" He said, his voice silky smooth. "I don't make friends with creatures with your dirty blood colors." His smile widened slowly as he spoke, revealing more and more teeth. He inched closer to Eridan, that wicked sickle closing in. "You see, I've finally realized the truth. It's not my blood that's mutant. It's all of yours. The Dersites and Prospitians, even the humans, all of them have my candy red blood. We are the normal ones. You and the rest are the freaks. And it's my duty, as the Knight of Blood, to exterminate all of you." His face was inches from Eridan's now, grinning with wicked delight. "And it's been a joy doing so, making you, who was so sure of his superiority, squirm and crawl and flee in the dark. But the chase is over now, and so is your tyranny. Goodbye, Eridan."

He moved quicker than Eridan could see. A flash of metal, and it was all over. Amethyst blood stained the floor, and hollow laughter rang through the empty hallway.

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Hehehe, I kind of like killer Karkat.

[Graven_Image]

Well, shoot. If Dersites are leaving for Earth on their own, you know it's getting bad.

EDIT: And Egbert saves the day. BOOYEAH.

Awesome as usual, Red Pen.

DOUBLE EDIT ALL THE WAY:

Okay, DA, that was also awesome. It's a pretty big What If, too.


Man, I keep falling down all these page toppers...