Spicy Serious
Divinely Devilish
I vote for this!
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Multiple Settings EFFORTLESS
- Thread starter simj26
- Start date
I vote for this!
JayTee
Eight Thousand Club
>5 Draw upon your deep reserves of vast tactical and strategic combat ability
And kick it in the robo danglies.
And kick it in the robo danglies.
Spicy Serious
Divinely Devilish
wonderandawe
Most likeky not a Sidereal
simj26
Awful, Terrible, No-good Layabout
It definitely is...
simj26
Awful, Terrible, No-good Layabout
You made your choice.
You also soon realise that this choice was possibly the worst one possible. The facts were simple: his claw was telescopic, and your legs weren’t. No matter how tall you are, it was near impossible for you to have charged in and give him a kick in the nuts and bolts (so to speak). Even if you had, you would have likely impaled your foot upon his sharp codpiece instead.
The difference in distance between your foot and his claw is vast, and, even as you make a dash for it, you can only watch as your foot kicks the air, and the claws rake across your chest, tearing a sizable portion of your shirt and the flesh underneath. Hot pain bathes the front of your body, and you crumple onto the ground, writhing and clutching at the open wound on your torso. A high-pitched sound rings in your ears, as you struggle with the pain that assaults you, the blood staining whatever remains of your clothes in deep crimson. A conscious part of your feverish mind soon realises that the high-pitched sound is your scream of agony.
You writhe and coil about on the floor, leaving a smudged trail of blood across the dirt. What feels like hours of pain is only several seconds for the two others with you. You finally flop onto the dirt, arms spread wide, your energy spent in your final throes of life. The sun shines, but you don’t see it any more. The white clouds now seem gray, and you can barely hear Agatha choke back a breath. The robot shakes its mechanical head at the corner of your darkening sight. “I suppose I didn’t have to worry too much ‘bout this,” it says, while your first companion looks on in abject horror. Even with your failing eyes, you can see her own brimming with tears. Why would she even cry for a person such as you? She barely even knew you. What were you to her, exactly? You find yourself growing ever more exhausted. You don’t even feel the pain any more, or the sticky blood that drenches your body. You want to close your eyes. You feel like closing your eyes. Some part of you doesn’t want to, a part that wants to live on. You make one last floundering grasp at the sky, as if trying to take hold of the last strings of your life leaving you. You don’t even have flashbacks of your life to look back on. You realise that you were going to die without ever knowing anything. You feel your face contort in a mix of anger, frustration, and perhaps determination.
Then you die.
It was a simple thing. The light blinks out entirely. Agatha and the robot are gone, and you are left lying on the ground. Nothing surrounds you. You try to get up, but you cannot. You try to move, but you cannot. Of course you can’t. You have nothing to move. There’s nothing else for you, you finally conclude. You look into the eternal darkness, and begin to resign yourself to your fate.
You don’t know if mere seconds have passed, or even years, before the darkness coils, then seemingly peels away, revealing a small form. The conventional laws of light apparently do not exist in this dark world, as you can clearly make out the features of the being. It takes the form of a slight, petite, feminine form, donning a white windbreaker featuring an odd logo on the left chest. Red veins creep out from under the raised hood, spilling across the neck and down the chest of the windbreaker. Similar dark patches discolour the ends of the figure’s sleeves, and even with your lack of smell, you are sure that this is blood. But that wasn’t what calls to your attention most. It was instead the fact that the figure was completely featureless. Its hands, its legs, its face were all hidden in some shadow, giving them no proper feature except a foreboding darkness.
You try to speak, or even scream, but no sound comes out. The figure holds up a far-too-long sleeve, and though hilarious under any other circumstance, you don't find it in you to laugh. In fact, you wouldn’t have found anything in you at this point of time.
“I walk the fine line between life and death, to guide the dying to their final resting place. But for you,” she lowers her sleeve and, despite having no eyes to speak of, manages to give you the impression that she is looking directly at you as she exposits, “I will have to guide you back to the land of the living. You still have much of a role to play in this world. You will not die. It is my duty now to ensure that. You made a foolish choice, but fret not, this time, the burden is on me. Are you ready to resume?”
She does not wait for your answer. Instead, she turns around and waves a dismissive hand. At the drop of her arm, the darkness visibly cracks, light seeping through the holes, and then explodes into clear, blue skies, the sun shining above. You feel a rush of cold wind, and your vision rushes closer to the light, past the being in the windbreaker, racing past the darkness, racing past all the nothingness. You can feel the stinging sun rays beating down upon you, the clean air of the mountainous regions, and hear the sounds of clashing metal in the distance.
Finally, all at once, you sit up, gasping in a deep breath of air through both your nose and mouth, filling your previously vacated lungs with precious oxygen. You blink several times, and cringe a little at the sudden increase of volume of metal against metal. You turn around, still blinking away the brightness in your eyes, and find Agatha batting away the claws of the robot, each of them tearing chunks and pieces off the mountain’s floor with every powerful swing of theirs. You can barely just make out Agatha’s bloodshot eyes. Again, you start to wonder just what she seems to see you as, that she would even go as far as to cry for you.
They don’t seem to have noticed you yet. What will you do?
You also soon realise that this choice was possibly the worst one possible. The facts were simple: his claw was telescopic, and your legs weren’t. No matter how tall you are, it was near impossible for you to have charged in and give him a kick in the nuts and bolts (so to speak). Even if you had, you would have likely impaled your foot upon his sharp codpiece instead.
The difference in distance between your foot and his claw is vast, and, even as you make a dash for it, you can only watch as your foot kicks the air, and the claws rake across your chest, tearing a sizable portion of your shirt and the flesh underneath. Hot pain bathes the front of your body, and you crumple onto the ground, writhing and clutching at the open wound on your torso. A high-pitched sound rings in your ears, as you struggle with the pain that assaults you, the blood staining whatever remains of your clothes in deep crimson. A conscious part of your feverish mind soon realises that the high-pitched sound is your scream of agony.
You writhe and coil about on the floor, leaving a smudged trail of blood across the dirt. What feels like hours of pain is only several seconds for the two others with you. You finally flop onto the dirt, arms spread wide, your energy spent in your final throes of life. The sun shines, but you don’t see it any more. The white clouds now seem gray, and you can barely hear Agatha choke back a breath. The robot shakes its mechanical head at the corner of your darkening sight. “I suppose I didn’t have to worry too much ‘bout this,” it says, while your first companion looks on in abject horror. Even with your failing eyes, you can see her own brimming with tears. Why would she even cry for a person such as you? She barely even knew you. What were you to her, exactly? You find yourself growing ever more exhausted. You don’t even feel the pain any more, or the sticky blood that drenches your body. You want to close your eyes. You feel like closing your eyes. Some part of you doesn’t want to, a part that wants to live on. You make one last floundering grasp at the sky, as if trying to take hold of the last strings of your life leaving you. You don’t even have flashbacks of your life to look back on. You realise that you were going to die without ever knowing anything. You feel your face contort in a mix of anger, frustration, and perhaps determination.
Then you die.
It was a simple thing. The light blinks out entirely. Agatha and the robot are gone, and you are left lying on the ground. Nothing surrounds you. You try to get up, but you cannot. You try to move, but you cannot. Of course you can’t. You have nothing to move. There’s nothing else for you, you finally conclude. You look into the eternal darkness, and begin to resign yourself to your fate.
You don’t know if mere seconds have passed, or even years, before the darkness coils, then seemingly peels away, revealing a small form. The conventional laws of light apparently do not exist in this dark world, as you can clearly make out the features of the being. It takes the form of a slight, petite, feminine form, donning a white windbreaker featuring an odd logo on the left chest. Red veins creep out from under the raised hood, spilling across the neck and down the chest of the windbreaker. Similar dark patches discolour the ends of the figure’s sleeves, and even with your lack of smell, you are sure that this is blood. But that wasn’t what calls to your attention most. It was instead the fact that the figure was completely featureless. Its hands, its legs, its face were all hidden in some shadow, giving them no proper feature except a foreboding darkness.
You try to speak, or even scream, but no sound comes out. The figure holds up a far-too-long sleeve, and though hilarious under any other circumstance, you don't find it in you to laugh. In fact, you wouldn’t have found anything in you at this point of time.
“I walk the fine line between life and death, to guide the dying to their final resting place. But for you,” she lowers her sleeve and, despite having no eyes to speak of, manages to give you the impression that she is looking directly at you as she exposits, “I will have to guide you back to the land of the living. You still have much of a role to play in this world. You will not die. It is my duty now to ensure that. You made a foolish choice, but fret not, this time, the burden is on me. Are you ready to resume?”
She does not wait for your answer. Instead, she turns around and waves a dismissive hand. At the drop of her arm, the darkness visibly cracks, light seeping through the holes, and then explodes into clear, blue skies, the sun shining above. You feel a rush of cold wind, and your vision rushes closer to the light, past the being in the windbreaker, racing past the darkness, racing past all the nothingness. You can feel the stinging sun rays beating down upon you, the clean air of the mountainous regions, and hear the sounds of clashing metal in the distance.
Finally, all at once, you sit up, gasping in a deep breath of air through both your nose and mouth, filling your previously vacated lungs with precious oxygen. You blink several times, and cringe a little at the sudden increase of volume of metal against metal. You turn around, still blinking away the brightness in your eyes, and find Agatha batting away the claws of the robot, each of them tearing chunks and pieces off the mountain’s floor with every powerful swing of theirs. You can barely just make out Agatha’s bloodshot eyes. Again, you start to wonder just what she seems to see you as, that she would even go as far as to cry for you.
They don’t seem to have noticed you yet. What will you do?
- Call out to the robot.
- Call out to Agatha.
- Write-in
wonderandawe
Most likeky not a Sidereal
Run away!
JayTee
Eight Thousand Club
Call out to Agatha. We have yet to determine if she's the Designated Love Interest or if she's just a cool supporting character, but either way she'll probably fight a lot harder if she knows you're not dead, yet.
Alternately, abuse the hell out of the fact that you can't die, and just attack the robot over and over until you win, Dark Souls style.
Also, see if you are in your old body, or a new one.
Alternately, abuse the hell out of the fact that you can't die, and just attack the robot over and over until you win, Dark Souls style.
Also, see if you are in your old body, or a new one.
IctoraPost
You've got mail
Dis. Tackle it off the side of the mountain or something.
Oh, and give it your cookies as well, if you have any left.
simj26
Awful, Terrible, No-good Layabout
i honestly want you guys to learn the hard way, but eh, ill be true to my effortless words and just straight out say that dying too often and having Aseity save you way too many times is not going to be good for you, for both the long and short run.
JayTee
Eight Thousand Club
Aw 
But yeah no, that's fair. I suppose I'll just cast my vote for calling out to Agatha, then.
Also, checking if you're in a new body, or your old one.
But yeah no, that's fair. I suppose I'll just cast my vote for calling out to Agatha, then.
Also, checking if you're in a new body, or your old one.
IctoraPost
You've got mail
Drat. How about calling out to Agatha, then tackling her off the side of the mountain and escaping. Hopefully there'll be some kind of deus ex machina there to save them.
simj26
Awful, Terrible, No-good Layabout
the answer is yes.
Spicy Serious
Divinely Devilish
Well I regret absolutely nothing, also I vote that we call out to Agatha but do it discreetly. Because there's still a killer robot who wants us dead.
The One Eyed Bandit
rotworm
I don't care if Aigis is the villain. Two will win anyway. ONE.
Necromantic
You faker than some Sweet 'N Low
I vote for this
Spicy Serious
Divinely Devilish
Well...can't beat 'em. Might as well join in and solidify their madness.
I vote for this! Aseity here we come!
simj26
Awful, Terrible, No-good Layabout
why are you guys like this
simj26
Awful, Terrible, No-good Layabout
Quick update: I'll be having navigation courses this weekend, and a live firing sequence next weekend, and plus, these next few weeks will be one of the more strenuous parts of my army life. I will try to make an update by this week, though, sorry to keep you guys waiting.
Thanks for supporting this QL! I'll keep trying to do my best!
Thanks for supporting this QL! I'll keep trying to do my best!
simj26
Awful, Terrible, No-good Layabout
It is when you first try to say her name that you realise that your entire body is numb, and feels like a block of lead dropped into a body of water. Your vocal chords are no different. A wheezing sound escapes your mouth, and you cough at the unexpected sharp intake of breath. Death, even for such a short time, has not been kind to you. You struggle to stand, to make yourself apparent to either of the two, and each inch of movement you make feels like going against weights tied to your limbs. You lose count of just how many times your arms and legs give way beneath you, sending you crumpling back into a pathetic heap. Frustration courses through you. You glance up, and catch a sight of the heated duel that transpires in front of you. Agatha, you realise, isn’t doing too well. Her strange, translucent magic (or what seems like it) carves pieces off the mountain with every swing, but none are reaching the nimbler robot, and it is all she can do to parry and attempt to riposte his quicker, but just as savage, assault.
You curse, and slam your fist onto the earth. Arms quaking, you lift yourself up to a crawling position, and with one more intake of air, you shout her name.
This time, it carries to her ears. She stops in her tracks, and turns your way. Slowly, a smile creeps back onto her tear-streaked face, and, seeing the relief on her visage, you can’t help but give a small one yourself. It instantly falls, however, when the mechanical voice speaks up.
“What has all that witch-warrior training taught you, Agatha?” The thunderous clicking that shakes you to your core, the sound of your demise, accompanies the robot’s calm tone. “Never take your eyes off the prize, my dear.” The robot swings his extended claw once more, now aimed towards Agatha.
You will never know what it was that gave you the burst of strength in your legs, sending you darting forwards towards Agatha. Each step feels like one step too many, for many reasons at once. It felt like aeons just to move one foot ahead of the other, and with each step, you can clearly see the claw descending upon Agatha, almost as if in slow-motion. You struggle to keep up with your ownself, and at the apex of your run, you fail, your legs finally surrendering to the strain. You trip, one leg stumbling over the other, and send yourself hurtling forwards. As you flail through the air, you register Agatha’s surprised expression, and the sheer drop into greenery behind her. You harden your resolve, grit your teeth, and did what you could as a body with nothing on its side but momentum and gravity.
You wrap your arms around Agatha, and send both you and her off the edge of the mountain with your momentum. The claw smashes into the ground behind you, sending debris into the air. A pebble or two glance over the top of your head, but you have much more worrying issues than a bruise.
The rushing wind makes you shut your eyes, but you force them open in an act of abject curiosity. You quickly wish you hadn’t. You shut them again, but it is too late. The scene of the green canopy rushing towards you is already imprinted in your mind. You are going to die again, and have that horrid dream with that girl in the blood-caked hoodie again. Realising this, you begin to scream, but even that wasn't’ going to work out for you- the wind steals away your breath, your screams fading quickly into a whimper.
Overtaken by resignation to your fate, you don’t realise that Agatha has unlatched your hands from her. She brandishes her sword, brings you close to her with her free hand, then, as you approach the canopy, she swings. A white energy scythes through in front of you, destroying the trees in your way, creating a small clearing. You don’t the opportunity to question the reasoning behind this act, as Agatha quickly prepares her next spell, the tip of her sword already glowing bright. She thrusts her sword forwards to the ground, sending a beam of light towards it just as you near it. You hear a popping sound in your ear, and see an orb expand from the point of impact. You barely register the repulsive force the orb generates as it expands exponentially, that is, before it finally explodes.
You are thrown apart from Agatha, and you hit the dirt pretty rough, rolling quite a distance before coming to a halt by slamming into a tree. The blunt pain, however, was much more preferable than whatever other messy endings you could have had in the past single minute. You get up slowly, catching your breath, and give yourself a once through.
You are relatively unharmed. A few cuts and bruises now adorn your body, but you are none worse for wear, perhaps besides the fact that your clothes hang loose, a hole torn into the fabric, revealing your torso, quite embarrassingly. You feel about your abdomen- the gaping claw mark that was your death is gone, healed over, but the dried blood on the skin and the cloth around the wound suggests that it was no fever dream.
But what of Agatha? You hurry over to the mass of fallen trees, courtesy of her quick thinking, and scour the area for her. The black and green of her tunic make it difficult to spot her, and looking for her sword is akin to trying to find a gnarled root creeping across the ground. What finally clues you in on her position is the white cloth that she uses to keep her hair in a ponytail. She is a distance away from the impact from earlier, about the same as you were, though the most worrying thing was that she was not moving. You stumble your way down to her, and come to a halt beside her. Gingerly, you turn her over to her back, and instinctively draw back a little.
She is by no means hurt externally. You can see a few bruises and scratches, nothing that you didn’t suffer. What draws your attention however, is the strange way her left arm is positioned, and a protrusion from around her shoulder. A dislocation. your mind identifies with no clear evidence of how you knew that. Before you can act on anything, Agatha opens her eyes, and, seeing you, she quickly sits up, then winces. She glances down at her arm, and her facial expression confirms that it is not in proper working order. Nevertheless, she puts on a brave face, and, with her sword as a staff, she straightens up. Her left arm swings slightly as she does, but she pretends to not care, continuing to hide the pain underneath her smile.
“I’m so sorry about that. I didn’t think they would be here that early. A-are you hurt anywhere? Sorry I couldn’t make the landing any softer. I-I tried my best.” You can see behind the genuine worry in her eyes that there is something else she wants to say. Your own, however, are still drawn inexplicably to her left arm.
What will you do?
You curse, and slam your fist onto the earth. Arms quaking, you lift yourself up to a crawling position, and with one more intake of air, you shout her name.
This time, it carries to her ears. She stops in her tracks, and turns your way. Slowly, a smile creeps back onto her tear-streaked face, and, seeing the relief on her visage, you can’t help but give a small one yourself. It instantly falls, however, when the mechanical voice speaks up.
“What has all that witch-warrior training taught you, Agatha?” The thunderous clicking that shakes you to your core, the sound of your demise, accompanies the robot’s calm tone. “Never take your eyes off the prize, my dear.” The robot swings his extended claw once more, now aimed towards Agatha.
You will never know what it was that gave you the burst of strength in your legs, sending you darting forwards towards Agatha. Each step feels like one step too many, for many reasons at once. It felt like aeons just to move one foot ahead of the other, and with each step, you can clearly see the claw descending upon Agatha, almost as if in slow-motion. You struggle to keep up with your ownself, and at the apex of your run, you fail, your legs finally surrendering to the strain. You trip, one leg stumbling over the other, and send yourself hurtling forwards. As you flail through the air, you register Agatha’s surprised expression, and the sheer drop into greenery behind her. You harden your resolve, grit your teeth, and did what you could as a body with nothing on its side but momentum and gravity.
You wrap your arms around Agatha, and send both you and her off the edge of the mountain with your momentum. The claw smashes into the ground behind you, sending debris into the air. A pebble or two glance over the top of your head, but you have much more worrying issues than a bruise.
The rushing wind makes you shut your eyes, but you force them open in an act of abject curiosity. You quickly wish you hadn’t. You shut them again, but it is too late. The scene of the green canopy rushing towards you is already imprinted in your mind. You are going to die again, and have that horrid dream with that girl in the blood-caked hoodie again. Realising this, you begin to scream, but even that wasn't’ going to work out for you- the wind steals away your breath, your screams fading quickly into a whimper.
Overtaken by resignation to your fate, you don’t realise that Agatha has unlatched your hands from her. She brandishes her sword, brings you close to her with her free hand, then, as you approach the canopy, she swings. A white energy scythes through in front of you, destroying the trees in your way, creating a small clearing. You don’t the opportunity to question the reasoning behind this act, as Agatha quickly prepares her next spell, the tip of her sword already glowing bright. She thrusts her sword forwards to the ground, sending a beam of light towards it just as you near it. You hear a popping sound in your ear, and see an orb expand from the point of impact. You barely register the repulsive force the orb generates as it expands exponentially, that is, before it finally explodes.
You are thrown apart from Agatha, and you hit the dirt pretty rough, rolling quite a distance before coming to a halt by slamming into a tree. The blunt pain, however, was much more preferable than whatever other messy endings you could have had in the past single minute. You get up slowly, catching your breath, and give yourself a once through.
You are relatively unharmed. A few cuts and bruises now adorn your body, but you are none worse for wear, perhaps besides the fact that your clothes hang loose, a hole torn into the fabric, revealing your torso, quite embarrassingly. You feel about your abdomen- the gaping claw mark that was your death is gone, healed over, but the dried blood on the skin and the cloth around the wound suggests that it was no fever dream.
But what of Agatha? You hurry over to the mass of fallen trees, courtesy of her quick thinking, and scour the area for her. The black and green of her tunic make it difficult to spot her, and looking for her sword is akin to trying to find a gnarled root creeping across the ground. What finally clues you in on her position is the white cloth that she uses to keep her hair in a ponytail. She is a distance away from the impact from earlier, about the same as you were, though the most worrying thing was that she was not moving. You stumble your way down to her, and come to a halt beside her. Gingerly, you turn her over to her back, and instinctively draw back a little.
She is by no means hurt externally. You can see a few bruises and scratches, nothing that you didn’t suffer. What draws your attention however, is the strange way her left arm is positioned, and a protrusion from around her shoulder. A dislocation. your mind identifies with no clear evidence of how you knew that. Before you can act on anything, Agatha opens her eyes, and, seeing you, she quickly sits up, then winces. She glances down at her arm, and her facial expression confirms that it is not in proper working order. Nevertheless, she puts on a brave face, and, with her sword as a staff, she straightens up. Her left arm swings slightly as she does, but she pretends to not care, continuing to hide the pain underneath her smile.
“I’m so sorry about that. I didn’t think they would be here that early. A-are you hurt anywhere? Sorry I couldn’t make the landing any softer. I-I tried my best.” You can see behind the genuine worry in her eyes that there is something else she wants to say. Your own, however, are still drawn inexplicably to her left arm.
What will you do?
- Attempt to relocate her arm and fix it up with temporary aid.
- Try your best to ignore her arm and attempt to push forwards to...wherever.
- Write-in
JayTee
Eight Thousand Club
Attempt to help her with her arm. If not fix it (do we have the medical training for that?) then at least help her make a sling for it to rest in while we try to find proper medical care.
wonderandawe
Most likeky not a Sidereal
I second this vote.
IctoraPost
You've got mail
Thirded. And give her some cookies, if you have any left.
The One Eyed Bandit
rotworm
Yeah sure, fourth'd.
Spicy Serious
Divinely Devilish
We didn't die? Well don't look a gift horse in the mouth as they say!
Anyway I vote for:
Anyway I vote for:
This, though it wouldn't matter much.