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21 May 2017 12:24
Current That heart-stopping moment when you try to stab your adoptive brother but your adoptive father gets in the way of the knife, but his blood is still good to activate the stone mask.
2 likes
20 May 2017 21:59
Suicide is no joke. If you're feeling suicidal, feel free to talk to me about it.
9 likes
20 May 2017 17:06
I'm back, folks. And I politely ask all people whose games I'm in to be patient about my responding to them I have... a few things to reply to, let's say.
4 likes
13 May 2017 18:00
I'm off on holiday for the next few days. Just so everybody knows where I am, in case they're wondering.
13 May 2017 12:36
I want to try and grow out my facial hair, but my mother and sister both insist that I have to shave every so often. Basically nobody else I've asked thinks my facial hair looks bad. :|

Bio

Hello, I am me from the internet. I migrated here from Kongregate's Forum Games Forum, so feel free to look for me there if you wish to follow a career in internet stalking people.

Most Recent Posts

At last, his ritual was completed, and for a few moments, Sett held back, observing the handiwork of his god... whatever that was. And from the looks of things, that was quite a big positive input! Things appeared to be going well for his allies, anyway. Perhaps that would change shortly, but for now...

For now, he had to find some other way of making himself useful. And much as he really, really didn't want to go toe-to-toe with any number of those entities... well, maybe Fineki would smile upon him, allow him to sidle around the group and get to the most important areas of the fight, where he could take out the leaders. Stealthily. Not the troll though, that was already being handled nicely.

And on the other hand, that heavily-armoured Rog approaching the Scay-lie seemed like a much juicier target... did valdium cut through armour plating as well as magical flesh? Damn him for not knowing these things off by heart! But, why would he need valdium when good old iron was more than sufficient when applied to a significant weak spot, like a joint, or its neck? Drawing his dagger, he gradually trod toward the Rog in question, keeping an eye open in case any of its fellows decided to charge him, and making damn sure the thing's attention was focused on his good friend the Skay-lay instead of him, for why draw attention to yourself... when you can not?

@POOHEAD189@The Fated Fallen@Sypherkhode822@Banana@Fetzen
@Necroes I'd expect that most are actually connected to the Marine's nerves, which in turn link up to certain portions of their brain. Plenty probably have a brain connection, if their effects are more passive than anything else, but I wouldn't expect most to need outright brain surgery even if seriously mangled. Just because you lose an arm, doesn't mean you can't control an artificial one by any means other than directly altering your brain structure to sync up with it.
Ga'duk's spiel was certainly... succinct. From the sound of things, it seemed the heresy in question involved... Horse, Horus? And bastard that he was, his armies apparently made it all the way to Terra itself, only to be slain by the Emperor. Well, as the lug said, the Emperor was very good at protecting what was his... and yet somehow, that hadn't been enough to defend himself from Horus? Leaving him confined to a throne of some sort as a result. And frankly, that was quite unbelievable, for what sort of harm could possibly leave the Emperor of Mankind so damaged for so much time? It might actually be more believable to assume he was truly dead, but without any counter-arguments, he had to assume most of the immense fool's testimony was somewhat accurate.

Around this point in his musings, the Dark Apothecary started to get in his face about exactly how unlikely Xepherial was to survive if he wasn't healed, and quickly. He disliked the red-armoured Marine's demeanour. Actually, he disliked a lot about him, including the obviously heretical allegiance. Even so, if what he said was true, then Lucius would have to concede the point in this case - his skill would be necessary to revive Xepherial after all. Assuming he was truth-telling, that is, and there was every reason for him to not do so.

Even so, the Dark Angel kept a hawkish lookout over the proceedings. Though it took an inordinate amount of time for them to actually start, it happened that once they did, they began to work extremely rapidly indeed, the Marine and his subordinates apparently communicating in various clicks and whirrs... or, perhaps it was just signalling. He had no way to tell.

Two minutes in, Xepherial seemed to begin to awaken. Before he could properly do so, however, a needle was pushed into his neck, pumping some substance or another into his body that made him go limp once more, not seconds before a pile of machinery was dumped on to the table next to the Marine. Were they not done yet? Was all this really necessary? In spite of himself, he tried to tell himself that, perhaps it would assist in recovery. Or maybe they were to boost strength? He didn't know, couldn't say, and yet there was certainly a lot being modified.

It was about six minutes in that Lucius finally glanced toward Xepherial's face, finally saw his eyes were still open... finally saw the glazed expression he had. Not like his. An appearance of that sort was only caused by unbearable amounts of pain.

Lucius shivered as he barely restrained his anger, desiring little else than to tear the Chaos Marine apart limb from limb... and yet to do so now would surely be foolish, would surely leave him more dead than desired. And so he held himself together for yet another minute, until finally the artificial creatures around him began to sow the Dark Angel up.

And then another needle was plunged into Xepherial's neck. For half a second, Lucius tried to believe it was some form of healing accelerant... only to have his belief destroyed by the sound of a circular saw, and the turning of Xepherial on to his front, and there was no possible reason for the Apothecary to bring that towards the Techmarine's skull-

'Okay, you're done now,' Lucius interjected, yanking both needles from his brother's neck and lifting the man off the table with a grunt of effort, before the Chaos Marine could do anything else. 'You don't need to... no, you're done. You're done.' That was about as articulate as Lucius could get without descending into a spiteful fury and making a sorely-advised attempt to destroy the man operating on Xepherial. And much as he'd appreciate an Apothecary's assistance, he was considering perhaps just having his injuries heal naturally at this stage, lest his body be assaulted so by the maniac who claimed to be a healer. He certainly didn't need any... devices put into him. And he'd certainly wait for Xepherial to reawaken before so much as considering medical assistance of that sort - to help keep an eye on him, the way he'd done for...

...perhaps more observant than he himself had been. If those devices did anything to negatively affect his brother-marine's mind or body, he'd surely be at fault. And he'd certainly take precautions to avoid being put into that fugue of pain and suffering Xepherial had surely gone through if he were operated upon, first of all destroying those wretched needles. All of them, not just the two that had been in play then.

In the meantime, he'd keep watch over his ally. He laid Xepherial against a wall as far from the mad doctor as he could manage, standing in front of the Marine's body with a hand on the handle of his knife. There was no way he'd allow them to do anything more to him, not now.

But then that left Xepherial's armour, his helmet and chestpiece, in a vulnerable position, if anybody tried to tinker with it. And he himself would need to be utterly observant to avoid anyone sneaking up to work on Xepherial under his nose... or at least to do other untoward things to him.

But, he did have two loyal- or at least semi-loyal- minions to assist... and one of them was even predisposed toward Chaos, were they not? He was at least recovering from his forcible separation from the Warp at last, getting into a standing position and shaking his head to clear it... yes, he'd be helpful.

'You. Come over here,' he ordered, projecting his voice toward his minion. He wasn't keen on being anything but authoritative at this precise moment, but he ought to at least pretend to be civil. To keep his cover, so to speak. Nevertheless, the peon came, tripping over his feet and even scampering on all fours to reach his master, whom he promptly bowed in front of as he stuttered out something about being his loyal servant-

'That's great. You see the black armour over there?' Lucius directed, pointing toward it. 'I want you to go and get that, and bring it back over here. My- this Space Marine needs it, you see,' he stated, covering his specific association with him for now... for who knew what reason, at that. 'And he won't be happy if it gets altered too much... oh, and do try not to get caught out by Big Red and his crones, okay?'

With that, a forceful pat on the back sent the pitiful creature in the right direction, uttering agreeances and promises to do this job most feverishly well, of course of course. In the meantime...

'Oh, Ga'duk? Could I ask you to help me keep an eye on Xepherial, please?' he called to the Ogryn, somewhat more jovially than he'd offered to his first pawn. 'To make sure he recovers properly, and so that nobody can do anything else to him.' The emphasis was not for Ga'duk's sake, but to ensure the Apothecary knew how dead he'd be if he or his creatures so much as moved too close to Xepherial. And if all else failed, Ga'duk might prove to be more successful at gathering up armour pieces than the other one.

And all the while, the other Marine, Decurion Vedius, had been trying to get the ship moving. And he was succeeding, apparently. Or at least trying to do so. Lucius wasn't sure of the logistics of getting an object inside a Space Hulk moving outside of the Space Hulk, but perhaps there was some particular mechanism he was working upon to achieve that, a short-range Warp jump or what have you. "Whatever may be", was apparently the notion there. Though if "whatever" was the ship exploding or otherwise killing Lucius somehow, he supposed avoiding that fate was in fact preferable.
My theory, as stated, is that Lucius believes there's no good reason Azazel should be anywhere near Xeph's skull with a circular saw. Every other implanted construct is, he hopes, at least somewhat justifiable, if questionable, but for what purpose would an unknown and apparently psychotic Apothecary want to get into another Space Marine's brain, considering the large quantity of metal that was just implanted inside him? In the paranoid mind of Mister Unwilling Thrall To Chaos, nothing good, and I hope that wouldn't be too meta-gamey.

Of course, the reason he wouldn't necessarily interfere prior to that point is because, whilst Space Marines are explicitly highly superhuman, they do also have vital organs, and if it happens that the organ designed to stop them bleeding out is horribly damaged, whilst they're bleeding out, then immediate surgery probably would be necessary to keep them going, and never mind the source of it. On the other hand, with no gaping wounds in his skull to date, chances are his brain's probably alright. There would be the matter of a massive Ork KOing him, but the denser skull would probably have taken most of the force from that, and as Jb stated, hairline fractures would probably heal over quickly enough.

Anyway, I'll get a post incoming soon enough.
@Jbcool I'll try to get a post out for this game as soon as I can.

@agentmanatee I don't want to sound like I'm being an ass, but I've been wrestling with how Lucius would act whilst Azazel is performing surgery, and have come to the conclusion that half an hour is a very long time to assume nobody will do anything regarding interaction with Azazel. In particular, I can't imagine Lucius being anything but hawkish when it comes to making sure Azazel doesn't pull anything untoward on his brother-marine, and I'm absolutely certain that he'd have no possible justification to allow Azazel anywhere near Xepherial's skull with any form of saw, all things considered.

What I'm saying is, barring meta-requests to the contrary- and if somebody has that sort of request, now's the time to make it, @Wraithblade6 in particular- I fully intend to have him intervene before that point, because there's no way he'd just sit there and let the psychopathic apothecary burrow into Xepherial's skull like that.
The Spoils of War, and Other Consequent Shakeups

'I have no sexual interest in her,' Motley told the drone. 'And I assure you, she was never in a good spot to win.' He wasn't certain the announcer had heard him, and alas wouldn't have the opportunity to proceed with future questioning, as he was already flying away, once more out the door. Nonetheless, that left him alone with his foe and the box, which when opened revealed something that looked very much like a lighter, with, what else but, a light switch on the side. And yet when he flicked the top open and pushed the switch up, what he was presented with was... well, in place of a fuel nozzle, what almost appeared to be a light-emitting diode, rising and falling, turning on and off, as he flicked the switch in the corresponding direction.

But something like that was sure to be more than just an overcomplicated torch. Weren't these meant to be artifacts of significant strength? Or at least esoteric powers - much like Stands, now that he considered it. So who knew? Perhaps turning it on and off was summoning and unsummoning some form of powerful spirit... or secretly encouraging a burst of flame? He couldn't say without testing it... outside, of course, just in case, for the threat of rain was no issue for him.

So first, Motley tried to get it to shoot fire, in some form or another. No dice.

Next, he wondered if perhaps it would act as a magic wand of some sort. Though he succeeded in looking somewhat foolish for a few minutes, this also bore no fruit.

And after that, he went back to pure offensive possibilities, this time the firing of immense light beams, or ice shards, or bullets, or even just rubber balls, anything and everything he could think of. Still nothing.

At this point, Motley decided to take it back inside, not wanting to overfrustrate himself on dead ends. Though it represented quite the riddle, it was certainly one worth figuring out, whether by the light of the Sun or by that of the television, currently showing a news story about a war somewhere or other. And that sparked another idea: could it turn electronics on and off remotely? Such a widespread possibility would certainly be useful, of course... especially if one of his foes possessed some electrically-powered device.

And upon pointing it at the television and willing something to happen, the lights in the device went out, seeming very much like they'd been sucked into the object in his hand. Success at last, perhaps. He quickly closed the lighter, just in case it automatically undid his progress, only to realise that though it refused to show an image, the TV still emitted sound. Which meant it wasn't off... at least, not until Motley turned it off, and then back on, only to find it still lacked an image. Which meant... what?

Think through the possibilities, Motley reminded himself, falling back on the knowledge of quite a few fights with Ripple bearers and Stand users alike. Very rarely was everything as it seemed in those cases, particularly when it came to Stands. The television has no image, but is otherwise fully functional, so it's not a device to turn other devices on and off. It looked like it took the light from the television, so does it absorb abstract concepts? No, that seems a bit too off-the-wall... but it did get rid of the light. So what if...?

Casually, he flicked the device open again, observing the LED at its tip. Then he aimed it back towards the television, willing the device to... he supposed to return the light it had stolen to its rightful place. Lo and behold, there was light once again. And all back in the right place, to boot - he seemed to recall televisions having large numbers of tiny pixels lighting up individually rather than being a single projected image, so that was at least quite impressive. Again, he willed the light to be stolen from the television, only to put it back once again. And then from only half of the pixels in the telly, such that it appeared there was but one news reporter discussing something with a black void, before the lights representing his partner were returned.

And lastly, he strode outside, just to make sure he could test his theory on something more definite. Say, the convenient light pole a few meters away from where he and his recent opponent had been. Again, he willed the light to be taken, and again it vanished, an orb of it seeming to ride out of the lamp and into the lighter, only to return, be stolen, and return again as he commanded, so long as the object remained open.

He'd done it, then. He'd figured out how the artifact worked... and in only an hour or so. Not his quickest feat of deduction, but considering he'd had exactly no hints on how to use it in the first place, it was still very impressive.

But now the question presented itself: what in the Hell would this possibly be useful for? It was hardly- well, he supposed he could try to steal the light of the Sun itself, but all things considered, that was no more than a fool's hope. Other, smaller, closer sources of UV light, however, would be great targets for the lighter... yes, that would certainly throw off his foes.

But until then... well, he would continue to watch television. And perhaps work on improving his tactics - he didn't want to be caught out by his next foe, after all, under the assumption that they were less dangerous than they truly were.




Throughout the night, his former opponent remained unconscious, or perhaps merely asleep for much of the night time. Regardless of physical injury, having one's life energy drained certainly required rest more than anything else. And, it occurred to him as he recalled the moment, she surely had much more of it than any usual human... perhaps a form of immortality, but it wasn't stolen time, the way his life had been artificially extended. No, judging by her hatred of undeath, any longevity she had would be purely natural. But of course, he'd have to ask about that... and she seemed to be recalcitrant when it came to questioning.

He might have mused until she awoke, if the entire city hadn't suddenly begun shaking with the sound of four separate, and very loud explosions, though even this was barely enough to get her to stir in her sleep. And not long after that, the noise of... invasion, perhaps. Helicopters, it seemed, as well as far stranger entities prowling the streets even in Oldtown. And if he looked in the right direction, above the cloud line... something huge and ominous lurked.

The fox-girl awoke just as the tournament's announcer began describing- from their phylacteries, no less- how they were dealing with the problem at hand. Problems, actually. Not just the force finding their way into the city, but the existence of something called "Echoes", phasing in where they didn't belong, as well as "Factions" that Motley was barely interested in. Though the idea of new artifacts to play with... if they were better than the one he currently possessed, they'd certainly be worth utilising.

And then, of course, the next step of the game: finding and defeating his next opponent. From the sound of things, he'd already been assigned somebody, who he had to find within the span of the day, or else... well, he presumed death, or at least being escorted off the premises by the city's staff. And that meant travelling elsewhere, possibly a great distance. Good thing, then, that they had the opportunity to get help from the announcer, up to three times before the lifelife was exhausted, up to and including linking his phylactery with his opponent's until they met. (And as it happened, it was almost literally one of the lifelines from Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?, replicated thrice over. Even the given name was the same. Who could have known?)

'Sooo... I guess I lost, huh?'

Oh, right. He had that to think about, too. 'Yes, you did,' Motley confirmed, turning to face the girl. 'To my understanding, that means you are now my thrall, as it were. Therefore, I would like you to fight alongside me.'

'Damn. And here I was, thinking I'd finally get that unlimited cooking skill I'd always wanted.'

...well, at least she knew what she wanted, even if what she wanted was peurile and unambitious. And from the sudden expression on her face, followed by a sudden escape from the building, what she wanted right then was... probably more private than Motley wanted to listen in on. Oh, that was right, mere mortals needed to excrete waste, didn't they?

Oh, fucking shit. They also needed to eat and drink, which meant Motley had to feed the girl, not least because he'd taken some of her energy mere hours ago. His plan for gathering to himself a small army of allies to assist in fights was already going awry.

She returned from whatever bush she'd gone behind sooner rather than later, by which point Motley was already out in the morning's light, his breathing as steady as necessary to keep up his shield of Negative Ripple against its rays. From the look of things, most of the area was badly swamped with water by now. Lucky for him, he had the capacity to walk atop water with relative ease, or even float in the air if he focused. He hoped the fox-girl could fly, though, else he'd need to carry her everywhere. And on that note, he couldn't just keep calling her "fox-girl" either. Who knew how effective the phylactery's hold over her was?

'I need to know your name,' Motley stated before she could say anything. 'And don't try to come up with anything absurd. My Stand lets me sniff out lies like that.' Technically not true, but he was sure he'd be able to figure out whether or not she was lying from the context.

'I wasn't gonna lie!' the fox-girl protested, before striking what was either meant to be an honest or dramatic pose. 'I NEVER lie, or my name isn't Erina, the Itinerant Exorcist!'

'Motley Crue. Charmed. And an exorcist, eh? That explains the flames and paper sheets.'

'Yep! I hunt ghouls, ghosts, goblins, and trolls, and other undead beasts!'

'Goblins aren't undead. Neither are trolls, at that,' Motley mused. 'I think you're lying about those last two.'

'Well, whatever you think isn't going to change reality. Like the reality that even though you are a ghost-possessed vampire, I can't do anything to you if I'm a thrall... so I might as well make the best of it, right?'

'Whatever makes you happy. I imagine finding my opponent might take a while, though. Do follow on.' With that said, he began walking off, leaving her to catch up at whatever pace she felt was appropriate. He had places to be, and if he was to get to his foe on time, he'd need to keep moving almost constantly throughout the day. If she couldn't keep up... well, he'd still have to carry her, or risk losing an ally in the city. Damn. He hoped she was fit enough that that wouldn't be necessary after all.
@Lazo Well, thank you kindly. That's very encouraging, and I understand your concerns about time. If that's the case, I might stick with asking questions about what she does and doesn't know, if you'd rather stick to just the one character for now.

@ProPro Your flavour is no match for my... blood! Amongst other attack forms.
I'm back, and will try my best to make a new post in the next few days. Please be patient if I don't, @Lugubrious, as I do have multiple other things to catch up on besides The Crucible, and not just in RP Guild.

Other than that, I don't know if it's a relevant question to ask, and I feel like I might have asked it already besides, but I figure it's worth asking anyway: @Lazo, since Erika Erina, I meant Erina, is technically your character, would you want to write her perspective from now on (outside of battle scenarios), or would you rather I kept her going instead?
@POOHEAD189 Thank you kindly. I'll get a response to the post out as soon as I can; I'd like to ask that you're patient, as I have posts to make for a bunch of other games to boot.
So just to clarify, @POOHEAD189, did Sett's prayer have any notable effect at all?
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