Selee-01
All according to my Scenario
The blast corroded the beast's outer hide, which flaked off to reveal oozy black musculature and sharp tendrils. Then it lunged, jagged maw peeling open like an obscene fruit to bite Helsa.
@Revan4221 | @BlackCat-055 | @Scrump_Diddle | @Stikes | @KolastoRPN | @The Void Ever Watching | @Selee-01 | @Churl | @Barbas | @Lolface390 | @Celestial Speck | @CutieBoop | @Gravitys Momentum | @Just_a_loneley_pilgrim |Puppernickel |
Kingly K Duel
GM UPDATE
View attachment 789815
Meanwhile, somewhere in Titania, a man sat down among a panel of speakers, sat at a desk before a sizeable crowd. Despite his advanced age, the sixty-something year old looked as if he was only a little over thirty. Good skin, his mother always said, but he was never believe this lie, for today he had come to speak at the first annual Alien Abductee and Transmundanist Convention. Needless to say, he was anxious, acidic blood was pumping through his veins as he scanned the crowd. There were a lot more people here than he expected, largely due to the fact that the subject of aliens is a rather touchy one in Titania, not many were willing to discuss them, even with ones such as Silva playing such a role in titania's history. This was for a number of reasons, namely, saying that you have been abducted by attractive women and probed, in the face of Titania's monolithic culture of overall macho-ness, generally hurts credibility. But not any more, with the unveiling of the fleet and declassification of the now-neutralized Siren threat, many could now open up about their experiences.
"Greetings, my fellow Titanians. Today we come together not to have our claims debunked or be ridiculed by skeptics, but to share our experiences, and help us remember, for as we all know, we didn't choose this! We were chosen!"
The crowd applauded, it seemed everyone was taking this seriously.
"And so, on the first day, of the first annual Convention, we have brought in a series of authors from across the world, to share a brief account of their experiences, and offer signed copies of their newest books that will be available at the desk shortly. So, without further ado, bring in our first guest speaker, Lt. Commander Hastings of the Spartycan Armada, give him a hand will you?"
Andyrecas:
An an elderly man in a military uniform stepped up from the front row, the crowd cheering as he slowly took his seat with the organizers, setting down a walking stick and tapping the microphone.
"It's a pleasure to be back in Titania, thank you for having me. *Ahem*, as you know, I'm a retired officer in the Spartycan Aerial Navy, honorably discharged, and currently working as a researcher in UFO phenomenon. I've been called a lot of things, a cook, a drunk, a wacknut lunatic, but I am proud to be here now. Before I shamelessly ask you to buy my newest book, I will first share my story. I was first recruited following the formation of the branch, forty years ago. I served on the exploratory fleet, first to map out the whole world, at that. Thanks to the work we did you'll be hard pressed to find anywhere 'xept the penguin lands marked 'oca incognita', but I'm not here about this. Thirty years ago, while charting the azranian outer islands, I was on shore leave when, inexplicably, I blacked out, bright lights descended from the sky and the next thing I knew, I awakened in a white room, strange, metallic forms levitated around me, seeming to carry me afloat into a ship, not much unlike my own carrier. Next thing I knew, I awakened on my vessel, my CO suspected I had gotten drunk and passed out, apparently, they found me lying naked in the desert, and some natives had carried me back into the ship, but I know what happened, I was taken aboard an alien spacecraft and subjected to all manner of torment. I underwent deep regression using substances acquired on an expedition to the isle of plunts, and uncovered the truth, all outlined in my book, "Taken by the Floaters"."
The crowd applauded, and so did the organizers, one among them being a beeheyem, who seemed not to understand the implications of this old man's story.
Arceus:
"I'll be available for signings after the meeting, but I'm out of time now it seems."
"Indeed, next up zoologist Juniper Oakland, who shares her experiences studying rare Manaphies in the nearby waters, and his discovery of ancient ruins. Give her a hand!"
The zoologist takes a seat, tapping the mic and addressing the crowd.
"Thank you everyone, I'm sure many of you have read "Lost City of the Water Fairies", but for those who haven't, I will give a brief summary for anyone who wants to pick it up afterwards. For those of you who don't know me, I gained recognition in my field after writing a comprehensive study on Deoxys, a multiviral, rather than multicellular entity thought to originate from one of the other planets by my team, likely having arrived in a more primitive form and evolved after exposure to our world. I proved this despite the constant opposition from skeptics, and for that I was present upon a zoological voyage to catalogue the migration patterns of the rare Manaphy species of water-sprite, perculiar in that it never seems to migrate along the same path each year. As we knew, they must do this to spawn, as breeding prior to migration only produces infertile Phione, but we never knew where they were going. Our vessel did, however, stumble completely by accident through a kind of magical barrier, wherein we discovered the truth. A wandering island, not unlike the source of Devil Fruits whose movements have been charted over the last centuries, but unlike that case, it was topped with a massive, ancient structure reminiscent of the Alphic architecture that dots the globe. The vast majority of the structure was underwater, and despite photographic evidence proving it as a reality, we have been unable to find it again. Until we do and get some actual archeologists inside, we won't be finding out what the ancients left for us any time soon."
Dementia:
"I will be available for book signings after the seminar, but now it looks like my time is up."
"Correct, and a wonderful presentation, Miss Juniper, next is Mr. Time... turner? What kind of name is-"
With her name having been called, a brown stallion trotted up onto the stage, an hourglass symbol visible on his flank. Turner was the owner and proprieter of one of the few Caffcuddles businesses remaining in operation in Titania, having struggled to maintain the business after various claims that his other locations were hosting gang activity (true) and that coffee was corrupting public morals, a more dubious claim, but given its alternative name, "The Corruptor's Tea", it was difficult to refute. Given his background, he had been invited to speak at the event, though, having known he would be brought into a room full of UFO nuts, he probably would have turned the purchase of the meeting down. Regardless, he was here, and, unable to sit, awkwardly laid down at the foot of the table, holding a microphone in between his hooves.
"Hello there, it is wonderful to meet all-"
"Sir Turner, I would first like to say, contact by your people was quite possibly the most unprecedented and world-changing event before disclosure from our government, at last, that sirens do exist. I simply have a few questions, how and why did you do it, in a scientific or magical sense, and, I will ask something less commonly thought of, it is known among transmundanists that, prior to your arrival, a number of cryptic letters arrived on the desks of many world leaders, and were kept secret from the public in most cases. Their contents have since been discovered, but if you know how and why they were sent, please explain."
"Well..."
Crap, he wanted a whole history lesson. At the very least, Turner was never one to disappoint.
"Well, we are from the planet Dementia, your people long knew it as just a light in the sky, however it is in fact a world much like this one, well, in superficial ways. The weather does not change on its own save for in a few places, we must manually shift the seasons, and like you we share our world with many other species. We learned a way to create a portal from here to another world purely by magic, and as we've long known we orbited another world beyond the spheres, we thought to come here first. There really isn't much else to it... As for the letters, I've never heard of them, I'm sure they were just an afterthought. A way of announcing our arrival I guess."
"And... I must ask, why the coffee shop?"
"What? It's just a coffee shop."
"Come on, what's the secret agenda"
"What agenda? We just want to sell drinks."
"Not just any drink, why travel between the spheres to sell us the devil's brew anyway? Not even trying to antagonize, here."
"We did not know there was such a stigma against coffee in much of this world, on our world it is quite a popular beverage, though I personally prefer tea."
"Why is that, hmm?"
"Well, I-"
"And why have we found, through independent and widely suppressed studies of your supply that many contain highly addic-"
Standard protocol kicked into gear, time sped up rapidly, at least from his perspective, and Turner simply stepped off the stage, neatly setting down the microphone and resetting the chairs that had been pushed out of the way. His ability to do this was... unique, but made him ideal as a representative should anyone turn up the heat a bit too much. He knew of no other Xelor user in the world, though others did exist. As he reached the exit, and brought himself back to an ordinary timeframe. in the nanosecond that passed, the organizer blinked.
"Where'd he go!? There was a pony! Right there! Was he even there at all? What was I just talking about?"
A member of the audience speaks up, seeming quite dazed as well.
"I think you were... introducing the next speaker?"
"Ah! Yes!"
Diddly:
He rifles through some papers, Time Turner's name having been crossed out during the anomaly, and selects the next one on the list.
"Our next speaker, a young man by the name of 'Daeddal', formerly just Derek, claims to have undergone a religious transformation following an encounter with beings from another world, he is considered an enlightened guru in the new religious movement of Diddlydonism, give him a hand folks."
The crowd cheered as a man in black and white robes took a seat, taking the microphone.
"Thank you for having me, may I?"
He extends his hand to the host of the convention, as if to shake it, and when his gesture is returned, the older man lurches back in pain. A hand buzzer had been concealed in the guest speaker's palm.
"Hah, never gets old, now, you wanted to hear my story? Well, where to begin? The beginning of course! I once lived on a small island, right off the coast of the Foglands, barely deserved a name it was so remote, but it was there that I first partook in the festivals that swept across the world only a short while ago, the Great Revelry as it came to be known. In the years that followed that time of revelry I became a priest of my order, don't start throwing anything though, I'm not here to sow seeds of diddle in you bunch of dragon-fucking halfwits, Only to relay what I have detailed much more explicitely in my book, 'To Diddle your Sisters, from the Stars'."
That pause between sisters and from the stars was most certainly not included in the title of the book, but nonetheless the priest giggled to himself along with the crowd as the double-entendre rippled across the auditorium.
"I must open by saying I am not one to shy away from dangerous evangelism. I have traveled to the deepest jungles of the west to preach to wayward elven folk, who, having abandoned a fallen system needed new means of seeking pleasure. I have shown the great dances of my people to giants and dragons, and so, on one fateful night when I was brought aboard the vessel of the star-sisters, sirens as you call them, I was probed, but I was not afraid, for in the white room they held me in, I danced, I danced until they did as well, and it was through my faith that I convinced the star-sisters not to erase my memory, but to return to this world and continue my work. From my experience I know much of them, their culture and history. They have been, historically, a fun-loving and peaceful people, they are not here to conquer as many think, but to enlighten. They seek to bring an end to war, to spread joy and friendship, and so my congregation has been amassing a fund to construct an alien embassy, to welcome them, and to host a great festival when they arrive, as The Foundation does across the world. Donations will be accepted after the conference, along with book-signings!"
The priest steps down, and the crowd applauds once more, as the chief of the board speaks again.
"Remember! All of our guest speakers will be available for book signings at the end of the conference, bring your own copy or purchase one at the desk!"
Ickol:
"Our next guest speaker will be one Baekya Chin, known for his writings pertaining to anarcho-communism, and pioneer in the controversial field of portal alchemy. He's come here promoting his book, 'Reflecting upon the Twixt, portals, mirrors, and monsters', wherein he details encounters with otherworldly beings during his time in the third Anarcho-Communist autonomous zone founded within the Jade Empire. Please give him a warm welcome!"
The crowd applauds, as a Jade Imperial man takes his seat. Western Common was not his first language, so an interpreter was present, though, he wouldn't be needed, as Baekya had fortuately rehearsed.
*Ahem*, "Thank you, thank you, I am happy to come here, to share my experiences. A little background first. I, along with the standing council in my village were among the first in the East to adopt Anarcho-Communism, based on the works of Lireaco Yer. Though our commune was eventually forced to disband, it's relative freedoms enabled me to experiment freely with ender pearls, which are outlawed in much of the empire. It was through my experimentation I found out I could convert a mirror into a portal, which acted as a link between this world and a reflection of it, a 'dark world' if you will, opposite of ours and which reflects ours, but physically existing parallel to our own world, not separated by any true distance. I outline in my book how the beings in this world parallel reports of "Abberation-type" alien abductions, and possible interdimensional explanations for these events. Unfortunately, it was the fact that these portals go both ways that led to the downfall of our commune. An imposter infiltrated the group and tore it apart from within, all this is detailed in my second book, "Among Us.", which I will be signing tonight."
Inqui:
"Well, thank you for sharing, now, I'm sure you will all be happy to welcome our next speaker, renowned suboccaean explorer, Edward Lytton, please give him a warm welcome!"
The crowd applauds again, this time accompanied by laughter, as the author arrives dressed in a hard hat, overalls and carries spelunking gear. His facial features gave him away as Titanian, though renowned more for his expeditions in remote regions of the west, getting to which was quite a feat by the standards of the Titanian citizenry, airships were, after all, quite slow.
"Thank you, thank you, I'd like to open with a question, what brought you all here? Was it aliens? monsters that looked like aliens? Regardless, an encounter with the unknown brought you here, as it did me. For, though the mainstream scientific community rejects my work as reckless, unscientific and borderline criminal, I outline it for the public to decide in my book, "The Coming Race", detailing a number of ancient, advanced civilizations dwelling beneath the west, along with those beneath our very feet! A synopsis of my tale, I entered into the great underdark through an extinct volcano on the shores of the Biome, entering into an advanced civilization calling themselves the First Light. They were wary of me at first, but I managed to learn much about them, namely their current state of affairs. They have long been in conflict with a race of metallic insects, matching descriptions of the "Scyther Aliens" as they have come to be known. The Vril suspect them a biomantic experiment conducted upon a population of Scizzor, in order to create superior fighting-beasts. Given its proximity under Camelot, I explain in my book reasons for suspecting the origins of "Super Soldier" rumors regarding that nation. I outline everything about the "Daegers", as the Vril call them in my book as well."
"Amazing! I must ask though, as your book does not specify their identity, with whom did you make the journey? It is mentioned on numerous occasions that you payed a group of mercenaries to travel alongside you, but you never name them or the organization they represented, why is that?"
"Well, we must preserve some professional secrets must we? All I'll say is that they were a group of opportunistic entreprenuers at the time, they funded my expedition assuming I might uncover treasure or reverse-engineerable technology. Can't say more, sadly, I was made to sign a non-disclosure agreement at the time due to opposition from a secretive organization, beastmasters I believe, likely some spearian agency given how well trained their monsters seemed to be. I swear, the sight of a vicious anaconda wrapping around your leg is not tempered by a fedora, no matter how fine."
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Oh, it's nothing, my associates disbanded long ago anyway after that dragon incident, you can get going."
Ocaeril:
"...Thank you for that, next on our agenda, we have brought in a former journalist from the Biome, whose work has been largely unreported, due to apparent contradictions of the twin doctrines of the biome, please give him a hand folks!"
The crowd applauded, then stopped, as a man with tentacle for an arm steps into the room. He was used to this though, in foreign lands.
"Thanks for the warm welcome, titania."
Most of the audience couldn't help but giggle
"I will say first, this was not given to me by any aliens, rather it was just a... utilitarian improvement."
He flips around the microphone, tosses it into the air, pulls up his seat and then catches it, all using the same tendril.
"I would first like to say, I came to this convention for alien-abductees not necessarily because I am one, but rather, because my own nation suppresses the truth that I sought to present. You see, for the longest time, official sources have often disputed the claims of those who experience traumatic alien abductions as victims of Cenobites, who for whatever reason, had their memories altered and were released following periods of torture. I, as an investigative journalist of the Biome, sought to understand the Cenobites in ways previous scholars never had, by venturing into the heart of their territory. What I found is detailed in more length in my memoir, but in short, I ventured into the jungle, in search of cenobite settlements alongside a number of bioengineered bodyguards. My hope was that I would locate Sodom, the last city of the cenobites, but upon reaching the area we suspected it to be, we found only an empty, organically-grown husk, stripped of anything useful. Suspecting raiders had done away with them, we decided to leave, eventually getting lost in the jungle, and inadvertantly locating what we later discovered to be a sort of reconstruction of cenobite society. You see, unbeknownst to the outside world, these creatures, long thought to abduct people from across the world in unseen piratical raids have been, for the last several centuries, existing in utter squallor, due to a curse they blamed for their need to raid. Allegedly, due to displeasing a god many hundreds of years ago, they were cursed not only with an addiction to extreme sensation, but an inability to feel, and so they were forced to seek out 'donors'."
He does airquotes, with his tentacle
"Apparently, some time years ago, this curse was broken, leading to mass cultural upheaval within the cenobites, and abandonment of their previous ways, along with a near-total eradication of the ruling class. I describe their current situation in my book, but they have taken up living in immense tree-cities, grown from the ground-up not unlike the Zonots. They remain as hedonistic as one would expect, and yet, having adopted the Foundation, they are almost completely non-violent. Of course, portraying cenobites in any favorable light is not very accepted in my country due to our history, and so my work has been largely ignored. However! What must be taken from this, since the fall of the cenobite order, no new slaves have been taken by that regime, calling into question countless formal dismissals by so-called debunkers regarding the phenomenon of alien abduction!"
Thunderous applause followed, as he was escorted off the stage.
Oen:
"Next to be speaking today, one of the greatest scientists of our time, Sir Robert Lazar, famed worker on the siren project and contributor to its eventual disclosure, give him a hand!"
The crowd applauded furiously for this one, as, to be honest, this was the guy they were all here for. Famed researcher on the project to integrate Siren machinery into the Titanian air force, and later into the civilian sector following disclosure, something he had no small hand in.
"Well, good to be here, I didn't write another book, but signed copies of my memoir will be available for purchase afterwards. So, what exactly would you like to ask me, anyway?"
"Well, you've been to expos such as this one many times before, we've all heard about how you got into the program, and what eventually lead you to working toward disclosure, but the actual technical aspects of your work have gone quite underappreciated. Is there anything you would like to say about
"Well, let's start from the beginning, During my time at Site S-4, I was one of the many scientists tasked with examining the siren technology. I admittedly glamorized the work in my memoir, in fact I seriously embellished, we were effectively just tinkering with whatever working parts we found the the wreckage and trying to piece together working technology from what was left over. Anyone whose worked with some of my inventions can attest to how alien it all is. Their weapons are essentially like the horns of ponies, giant crystal pylons that direct the winds into energy beams, but that and the antigravity was the easy part, for antigrav we realized we just had to keep the crystals vibrating fast enough and they would generate a sort of cushion an airship can just float on top of. Generating vibration has always been the main issue with working with siren technology, as it takes a lot of power to produce a working field, but too much and you will shatter the crystal, which is generally irreplaceable. When it came to airships we eventually just had to make it so the whole outer hull vibrates, while lined with a layer of the gems from the ship. This requires they be made of somewhat fragile materials of course, to support the encrusting. To remedy that, the military models incorporated a system we discovered in some of the siren ships, a sort of repulsive field on the hull that makes them nearly indestructable. I'm no longer working on the project since disclosure, but when I left, we were close to cracking personal powered armor based on what the sirens apparently wore. Without any live Sirens though, power has always been a challenge, even with the nobles saying Eva herself was watching over us as we worked. Siren technology was originally designed to be used by sirens, who can practically grow the stuff out of their bodies. Juryrigging any compatible power source to their computers has proven impossible, deciphering their language has also been all but impossible. With siren sightings at an all time low, I am not hopeful. However, there is always the chance we may discover an alternative method of harnessing siren computational technology. The King's current campaigns in the hedgehog islands may bring us something we can use, even, to say nothing of the other new islands we have made landfall on. Either way, I'll be signing copies of my memoir for your patented antigravity bookshelf shortly, so, if that is all?"
"Oh, yes, just one more thing, regarding the recent association between our kingdom and the Order of the Watch, and the king's instinct to seek them out on merit of a vision. Being a man of your position, can you confirm the existence of the various worlds the order claims to be aware of?"
"Unfortunately not, I am not a particularly religious man ever since I dissected a Siren and realized no sensible god could make such a thing. Though, I would bet on a good eighty percent."
"Well, thank you for coming here today, but you're a busy man, so I suppose we'll bring in our next author, an explorer who ventured across the central sea and author of "Sea Legs", detailing his trip to the Triulian archipelago"
Tiamat:
A man rolled up to the stage. He was in a wheelchair, but not for the reason one generally ends up in one. He was nude from the waste down, and his legs were covered in scales. Giant, frog-like webbed feet were present, and his hands possessed extensive webbing as well. No one was particularly surprised, he was widely known as the "Titanian Frogman" following his participation in a Triulian ritual that altered his physiology greatly.
"Welcome, care to introduce yourself?"
"Of course! My name is- [The frogman produces a loud, gutteral croak]"
"Umm, can you say that again?"
"Certainly, [He repeats the same croak.] "
"Is that... really your name?"
"Why, of course? Why wouldn't it... Hah, just kidding with you all, Lionel Crabb, author of Sea Legs and underwater explorer."
"Excellent! I'm sure you are aware you have been invited here to discuss your experience with ancient, previously undiscovered undersea ruins, but first, would you like to explain how you ended up like... this?"
"Of course, I get asked that a lot. I detail it in my book but for those who have not yet read it, the first destination of my airship's expedition was a remote chain of islands in the west, inhabited by a quaint sort of fish-like men, calling themselves the Triton. A few things to note about that part of the world, three dragons guard the islands and are objects of reverence from the Triton. One of these dragons attends to their princess or queen at any given time, another seems to select a man of particular valor each age and act as his guardian. The third however, a sort of thunder-dragon, is said never to leave its roost at the castle, where its charge is said to reside. Regardless of all this, in my inquiries of their sorcerers looking for any means by which to improve mobility underwater, I was taken to a sacred cove of sorts where, presumably by biomancy of some kind, their priests altered me into this shape. Now, regardless of how I may have strangled a cleric with my bare, webbed hands at the time in a fit, I was made able to go on a series of successful dives that would never have been possible without the modifications. One of my greatest discoveries by far would what my associates have come to call the 'Ancient Sky Fortress', clever name I know, but, off the coast of azran, these massive ruins appear to have been once part of a massive airship, possibly of alien construction, but unlike anything we have seen of from Sirens before. Parts of it were returned to the Titanian national museum for study, but much of the ruins were destroyed beyond repair, not necessarily by time or the sea either, much of what we found intact was remarkably undamaged by such, but it appeared that much of the fortress had been utterly destroyed by some kind of energy weapon."
"Fascinating, is there anything else you would like to say before I bring in our final speaker?"
"Well, I-"
He croaked.
"That's gonna look funny on the transcript", he muttered to himself, as he wheeled himself off the stage.
The Writhing Cosmos Master:
"Alright, now for our final speaker, former inquisitor Guroch Sorenson, discussing his experiences working in intelligence. As he has clarified in his memoir, all materials discussed have been officially declassified. Please welcome him on stage!"
A resounding boo echoes through the auditorium. No one wanted to see the inquisition spook. To his credit, he actually did show up onto the stage.
"Well, thanks for the warm welcome!"
No one laughed
"Okay I'll keep this brief. In my book, I detail my experiences working in the classified Siren program, as well as using their technology, now outdated, to intercept communications between the other Eastern powers as they continued to mount hostilities. I was among the team that discovered the mysterious "Kruschtya Equation" seemingly being harnessed by our enemies, baring unknown connections to extradimensional beings, and connected the iconography of the federation to that of a number of cultic organizations in the west that have seemingly sprung up in the past decades, possibly as a federation plot. I detail my studies on these beings in question in my book, but to put it shortly, we suspect a race of extradimensional, magical forces to be responsible in large part for the formation of the federation, and we can't exactly yet tell if they are alien, daemonic, or somewhere in betwee-"
A tomato cuts him short.
"Very well..."
He sighs, and steps off the stage.
"Well, that could have ended better, but I'm sure this is all what you've been waiting for, get out your books for signing, and be sure to check out the minibar!"
Epilogue:
As the various transmundanic authors lined up behind various stalls to begin the book-signings, one of the members of the crowd had been listening even more carefully then the rest. He stayed in his seat for much longer than anyone else, arousing some suspicion as most people had already gotten up. The fact that for the entire seminar he had held his feet up against the chair in front of him was also not that discreet. The organizer noticed him as he stepped down from the stage.
"Well hello sir, you here to get anything particular?"
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Flagrantly ignoring the no smoking sign, he puts out a cigarette and sighs.
"I suppose you could say that..."
He gets up out of his chair, trudging off out of the seminar, muttering under his breath as he leaves.
"And to think my plans were foiled by these knuckleheads..."
Meanwhile
(This but with twenty thrones andmac tonightSonic.exe instead of elf lady)
In the blink of an eye, each of the gods materializes once more upon their thrones, the hall looking as pristine as ever with a feast prepared upon the table, though, strangely, instead of the multicolored, flavorless jello-like, substance usually upon the plates, someone appears to have preset the table with all manner of good-tasting, but unhealthy snack food, potato crisps, sweetrolls, donuts and all manner of other such things. The nectar of the gods had additionally been replaced, with imitation vodka it would seem. The source of such tampering with the dinner table would soon be seen, or rather heard, as the clone of Original that Ickol had, some half-century ago, forgotten to properly dispose of.
Along with the seemingly new "Attendent" of the hall, Ickoriginal would be seen within for the first time, dressed in her usual tuxedo and top hat, though to many of the gods this would be the first they see of her having fused with Original, though this may not be the first assumption, as original is already here, in the form of a vestigial clone. Additionally, two new gods are present in the hall, retroactive memories of them present in the rest of the pantheon. One among them, Bastet, a minor goddess and drunken reveler, and the second of the two new gods was some kind of... pig... armadillo... crocodile... dragon... thing... that all of the gods would remember for his destructive and uncontrollable nature. Traxel, this was. As customary, the gods would have their meeting before going to do their work, and of course, nothing would ever go wrong... right...?
Oh yeah! And Gaul was there too! The incarnation of war and destruction itself from across the cosmos, was just sitting there on the Alchemist's throne. That was probably fine. At the very least, despite all this chaos, Helsa was not present, being preoccupied in Arqa.
Oh hang on... was he always here..?
View attachment 789736
"ALRIGHT SUCKERS. BETCHA' THOUGHT I WAS GONE. NOPE. LONG STORY SHORT I'M GETTING TIRED OF YOU ALL TAKING SO LONG WITH EVERYTHING. FROM NOW ON, YOU ARE GOING TO BE EXPERIENCING TIME LIKE NORMAL FUCKING PEOPLE. NONE OF THIS FIFTY YEAR-TO-A-SOMETHING RATIO BULLSHIT ANYMORE. NORMAL FUCKING TIME. TO COMPENSATE I AM MAKING YOU ALL WAY FUCKING WEAKER. LIKE, A LOT WEAKER. FROM NOW ON YOU ARE ONLY GETTING ONE BIG THING. ONE, BIG, THING, AND ARE OTHERWISE GOING TO HAVE TO ACTUALLY WORK TO MAKE THINGS GO YOUR WAY. IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, TELL ME, SAY, WHENEVER I BRING YOU SHITSTAINS BACK HERE? WHO KNOWS YOU MAY LIKE IT. ANYWAY TA-TA."
The gods collectively feel a drain, as if everything slows down, and their power wanes. Whatever just happened, it wasn't good.
This and the following turns (unless otherwise specified) will henceforth take place over a timeframe of no lmore than twenty five years, and the gods will have only one action per turn. This is not necessarily going to be permanent, just an experiment with gameplay mechanics.
King Yimer Fight Post
The king looked at the bricks, noting how they'd survived the railgun so well. Not to mention the Titans he'd made were largely intact, as if this hog was unaware of their weakness.
He ran towards the temple, hardening his fingers into talons. and grabbed a few lumps. He'd practiced throwing with his Titan, it was traditional, and he knew how to maximize the spread of rubble. Taking careful aim, he ground the bricks against one another until they were broken up into suitable, splintered shards. He took aim, and hurled the rocks with immense force right at the hog and the unfortunate Titan it was disassembling.
