Member
Not to worry, @LegionPothIX, I'll pull her out. And thanks for the little explanation of ordinality. I managed to deduce approximately that (as my pride dictated I attempt to), but it's far easier and more convenient with that footnote than a small dig through Google.
- Last Seen: 8 yrs ago
- Joined: 10 yrs ago
- Posts: 198 (0.06 / day)
- VMs: 1
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Username history
- Draken 10 yrs ago
Status
Recent Statuses
9 yrs ago
Current
I'm fighting the final boss of College.
6
likes
9 yrs ago
*Piddles about*
10 yrs ago
I have returned from the land of apathy with renewed vigor! Talk about ironic...
10 yrs ago
Aaaand I just made several google searches in a row about a cannibal cafe. Watch lists, I'm baaaack!~
3
likes
10 yrs ago
A new challenger approaches!
1
like
Bio
21 year old white man. Do I get Social Justice points for being gay?
Lame (and somewhat rude) jokes aside, I'm an American college student majoring in Media Studies and hoping to work in game design. I've run several tabletop RPGs over the years, mostly in the vein of D&D and Pathfinder. I dabbled in forum RP years ago, and am hoping to have a joyous reunion with the art now.
My greatest strength is probably my ability to realize my weaknesses and take honest criticism without feeling put down. One of said weaknesses is my bad tendency to proofread after posting something, so feel free to point out spelling mistakes or small grammatical errors if I've left a post lying around a little while.
I swear I don't bite, though the zombies might. (Ask me about my moral position on Necromancy.)
Lame (and somewhat rude) jokes aside, I'm an American college student majoring in Media Studies and hoping to work in game design. I've run several tabletop RPGs over the years, mostly in the vein of D&D and Pathfinder. I dabbled in forum RP years ago, and am hoping to have a joyous reunion with the art now.
My greatest strength is probably my ability to realize my weaknesses and take honest criticism without feeling put down. One of said weaknesses is my bad tendency to proofread after posting something, so feel free to point out spelling mistakes or small grammatical errors if I've left a post lying around a little while.
I swear I don't bite, though the zombies might. (Ask me about my moral position on Necromancy.)
Most Recent Posts
The away mission in a nutshell.
Karen, picking up robo-insects.
... I hope you've got a conceivable explanation for this, because you've just given Karen one helluva job in research.
Karen Anderson, who had remained quiet from sheer, stomach-affecting anticipation, was now throwing what could only be called a fit. Her voice was being raised at any security officer nearby, and she was beginning to suspect they were taking shifts.
"If I'm not allowed to take samples, or even touch the wildlife, why the fuck was I even asked to come along?! Why do you fucking need a xenobiologist on the ship anyways if I'm not allowed to do my fucking job?!"
The cursing was generally uncharacteristic, or so she kept telling herself. Indeed, this was definitely not how she wanted her first major impression on the security staff, let alone the Chief of Security. However, it was the only way to express how pissed she was at the current situation. There was life to investigate and science to do. Completely. Alien. Life. Yet all she was allowed to do was sit and watch the boring geologists work with theories refined centuries ago, on samples that contained nothing not found on Earth. So, instead of putting up with that, she yelled.
"Don't walk away from me young man! If I'm going to have three days of my life wasted, you can spare an hour. But no, look at me still talking when there's science to do! I've experiments to run, there is research to be done, on these things that are so alive!"
It was obvious that the security guard in front of her wasn't really paying attention, so she began the walk towards the geologists, figuring it should at least be marginally interesting. Each step lost some of the force and speed of the last as she drifted both to a stop, and into thought about what she had been allowed to observe.
The first things which had impressed Karen were the facsimiles of trees. Well, facsimile was incorrect, since it could not reasonably be mimicking them. Still, the resemblance was uncanny from a distance, with their sizes in the deep "woods" be comparable to the great Sequoias which had once grown in California. However, the key difference was that instead of wood, or any organic material (chemical definition or otherwise), they consisted of some sort of rock and had countless small holes. Their most immediate counterpart on Earth would have been termites, though the exact material and texture was visibly different.
The second things which had impressed Karen were the spatial equivalent of leaves. The greenery here was placed similarly as on Earth, so far as the "trees" were concerned, but was found nowhere else. Indeed, there was no equivalent to grass, or bushes, or other foliage... Or animals. On close examination, the region was pretty desolate. Karen had figured that there was too little information for conjecture at the time, and refocused on what did exist. Instead of leaves, there were structures more akin to veins or pipes. They attached to the "branches," using the structures as a sort of scaffolding. From there, smaller veins branched between those, and smaller between both. In the end, it formed an exceedingly complex web, with a thin, green membrane filling the spaces between the veins, like a paper banner between two poles. There were exceptions, but Karen had nowhere near enough information to figure out what, if any, rules applied to those.
By now, Karen was fully stopped, simply standing in place and thinking, just ten feet or so away from the geological equipment. It would be too much to claim her mind raced, but it was certainly abuzz, drawing connections between what was seen here and what was left behind on Earth. She began attempting to name parts of this new life, wondering if it would be wise to draw on the naming conventions of plants. "Veins" would stay, since it applied to both plants and animals, but she couldn't do anything remotely precise until she knew what related to what, if anything at all. Cursing her lack of prerogative, she instead began pondering why they seemed to similar to leaves on Earth, even if only at first glance.
These thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of her second major puzzle, the new species of... Insects? She would really need to take the similarities issue seriously.
"If I'm not allowed to take samples, or even touch the wildlife, why the fuck was I even asked to come along?! Why do you fucking need a xenobiologist on the ship anyways if I'm not allowed to do my fucking job?!"
The cursing was generally uncharacteristic, or so she kept telling herself. Indeed, this was definitely not how she wanted her first major impression on the security staff, let alone the Chief of Security. However, it was the only way to express how pissed she was at the current situation. There was life to investigate and science to do. Completely. Alien. Life. Yet all she was allowed to do was sit and watch the boring geologists work with theories refined centuries ago, on samples that contained nothing not found on Earth. So, instead of putting up with that, she yelled.
"Don't walk away from me young man! If I'm going to have three days of my life wasted, you can spare an hour. But no, look at me still talking when there's science to do! I've experiments to run, there is research to be done, on these things that are so alive!"
It was obvious that the security guard in front of her wasn't really paying attention, so she began the walk towards the geologists, figuring it should at least be marginally interesting. Each step lost some of the force and speed of the last as she drifted both to a stop, and into thought about what she had been allowed to observe.
The first things which had impressed Karen were the facsimiles of trees. Well, facsimile was incorrect, since it could not reasonably be mimicking them. Still, the resemblance was uncanny from a distance, with their sizes in the deep "woods" be comparable to the great Sequoias which had once grown in California. However, the key difference was that instead of wood, or any organic material (chemical definition or otherwise), they consisted of some sort of rock and had countless small holes. Their most immediate counterpart on Earth would have been termites, though the exact material and texture was visibly different.
The second things which had impressed Karen were the spatial equivalent of leaves. The greenery here was placed similarly as on Earth, so far as the "trees" were concerned, but was found nowhere else. Indeed, there was no equivalent to grass, or bushes, or other foliage... Or animals. On close examination, the region was pretty desolate. Karen had figured that there was too little information for conjecture at the time, and refocused on what did exist. Instead of leaves, there were structures more akin to veins or pipes. They attached to the "branches," using the structures as a sort of scaffolding. From there, smaller veins branched between those, and smaller between both. In the end, it formed an exceedingly complex web, with a thin, green membrane filling the spaces between the veins, like a paper banner between two poles. There were exceptions, but Karen had nowhere near enough information to figure out what, if any, rules applied to those.
By now, Karen was fully stopped, simply standing in place and thinking, just ten feet or so away from the geological equipment. It would be too much to claim her mind raced, but it was certainly abuzz, drawing connections between what was seen here and what was left behind on Earth. She began attempting to name parts of this new life, wondering if it would be wise to draw on the naming conventions of plants. "Veins" would stay, since it applied to both plants and animals, but she couldn't do anything remotely precise until she knew what related to what, if anything at all. Cursing her lack of prerogative, she instead began pondering why they seemed to similar to leaves on Earth, even if only at first glance.
These thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of her second major puzzle, the new species of... Insects? She would really need to take the similarities issue seriously.
I finally caught up! I'll post a thing tomorrow about Karen puttering about and complaining to various security guards and science personnel about not being allowed to do her job.
Edit: and finally describing those damn "trees."
Edit: and finally describing those damn "trees."
I was doing very little, except being intimidated by the writing task set before me.
<Snipped quote by Draken>
We might have to shift that over if we don't keep activity up. They're clearing inactive channels out, but I have no idea what the schedule is.
To be honest, I'd kinda prefer our own small Discord. I don't like having to silence new channels periodically.
This OOC thread has been unofficially supplanted by the official Discord chat.
Collab with @Mercenary Lord
As if mentioning it made it real, as soon as the group started looking at the sky, a ship winked into view, as if a curtain had been whisked aside. A split-second later a flicker of motion from high up caught Zimmy's attention.
For a precious few moments, Zimmy hesitated: she didn't want to interrupt the oh-so-important ramblings of the nobility below, after all. Then the movement evolved into a very robot-shaped blur, and she could be silent no more. "Gentle lords and ladies," she muttered into the air, "I appreciate the grandstanding and all--really, I do--but we've got real problems now. It's time to go. Can the princess walk? Run, preferably? Theta, Trent?"
Daryll jumped on what Trent was saying about teleportation, growing annoyed at the squad's tendency to hold two conversations at once. "No, I cannot, Trent. Well, technically, yes, but I'm not actually very good with teleporting anything except myself, and this is not the place nor time to push my limits. That also means that I'm not about to bring Princess... Princess out either. Theta can take care of any mending we need right now. Zimmy and I will bring this thing down, or at least tie it up. Lee, Trent, watch the new perimeter."
Daryll waited a moment for everyone else to act on their orders, basking in the shame of already forgetting her highness, Colette Skymming's name. After the miniature pity party, he gave a look back and motioned Zimmy in. The look was useless with her cloaking, but at least there was no confusion on who he meant. His only hope was that she'd have one of her infamous plans. Things always seemed to go more smoothly when she took the lead, though instructors rarely agreed.
They had only moments to work out a plan of attack. Ironically she and Daryll were probably the least equipped to handle this giant incoming death-machine. But everyone else was more important, to be perfectly honest. Setzer was the wall to protect the princess, and Gideon and Galahad needed to keep talking to her to keep things from deteriorating, seeing as she could blow the entire crater up instantaneously.
Luckily, her mind flashed back to a very particular moment in training--or more accurately, the many periods of dicking around she and Daryll had passed the time with. "Daryll," she said, as the sound of an incoming robot grew louder and louder. "How well do you remember that aerial fighting bullshit we came up with last year?"
Daryll couldn't help but smile. "I remember that everyone else did indeed call it bullshit. Against a robot, should make the thing helpless. I'm in, on your signal." The excercise last year was supposed to be practice for duo firefights, but Daryll and Zimmy had decided to forgo shooting and cover entirely. Their plan was foiled after several matches, but it worked wonders the first several attempts.
"Cool, great." At least, she mused, they would die in a flash of glory. Then the robot hit the gound in the crater, sending up a spray of debris. She could almost see the thing rising through the dust. Go time.
As she leapt off the spike where she'd been keeping watch, Zimmy reached out to the mist below her and congealed it into a sort of...cosmic jello. It was an old trick she had learned early, good for reducing terminal velocity. Not quite flying--she was still trying to master that--but it was good enough. The problem was that too much mist in the crater itself could set them all on a path to mist-death, so she had to grit her teeth and use as little mist as possible. That meant hitting the ground hard.
"Fffffuck," she hissed as she hit the ground hard. She didn't have time to waste on pain, though, and she rolled to her feet. "Hey!" she shouted, kicking a rock at the robot while she ran closer. It dinged off the big metal head and the thing turned to look at her, just as she smoothed all the mist below her into a frictionless path. It was actually quite a small amount of magic, as were most of her machinations.
The next few steps of this plan required excessive precision. As she reached the robot, she gently pushed on the mist around her, willing it to become buoant. That was how she always jumped so high, except this time...
"Daryll! Help me out." She couldn't lift the damn thing by herself, even with the weakened gravity. He was with her, though, having followed her just a few paces behind and one to her left, avoiding the path of Mist Zimmy employed. He rolled in, timing it so he was lying on his back at the robots shiny, metal feet. Daryll's feet, however, were now making impact with the thing's equivalent of an abdomen, using all the strength in both his legs to shove the thing towards the sky. Intertia was a bitch, but once all that metal got moving, it took its sweet time slowing down.
While the hunk of definitely-not junk was moving upwards, Daryll and Zimmy began enacting part two of setup.
Zimmy glanced at the robot one more time to make sure the plan was working. The thing was heavy as fuck, but they really only had to get the thing to just slightly above the danger-zone, and then Daryll could take care of the rest.
Looked good to her. She turned back to Daryll and smiled. "The things we came up with instead of getting laid, man." Then she tugged just a little bit harder on the mist and fell into a solid 'throwing' stance. Then she grabbed Daryll's arm and waist and bodied him into the air after the robot. "Show 'em even the stupid ideas are useful," she said, more to herself than anyone else.
It had been a while, but Daryll still knew how to maneuver in the air. Throwing his weight, he caught up to the robot and made impact, feet first. Feeling the mist, and drawing it in. he pushed off once more, nudging the robot higher while he worked his best bit of magic. Without a hint of excess effort or theatrics, he relocated himself to now be directly above the helpless hunk of metal, sword already in place. The stab went straight to the things chest armor, and made disturbingly little dent. Its arm-cannon began to glow.
So maybe it wasn't quite so helpless.
Daryll pushed off again, banking in the direction of the thing's head. A cursory examination revealed few seams. The thing didn't really have a neck, so he figured his best bet might be to simply detach that weaponized limb. He teleported again, now on the opposite end, coming up near its legs. This time, he latched on, wrapping one arm around its equivalent of a thigh while planting his feet on its back. He brought the edge of his blade down where the leg he held met the robot's core, and was delighted to feel it give a little. He was promptly shocked when the metal shifted beneath his feet. Apparently the torsos could rotate 360 degress.
By the time it had turned all the way around, however, Daryll was on what was qualified as its back... Or front. He didn't care, really, what mattered was it being a blind spot. This time he went for the arm cannon, aiming at the base once again. It turned, but this time he clung, no longer holding to the independent legs system. He struck once more, and exposed wire.
His blood was pumping as he felt the warm glow once more. The robot had brought its arm cannon up, now pointing back, over its shoulder and at Daryll's head. He blinked, both literally and magically, reappearing on its left, offhand moving to grip its arm. He made a second go for the wounded leg, really just trying to make it move the position of its arm. As an AI, it fell for the deception readily. As Daryll delivered a final blow to the arm, now clinging to its shallow dome of a head, he felt gravity once more take precedence over the lift he had given the flying piece of junk.
"Zimmy, I'm coming down, save my ass!" Daryll yelled, forgetting the communication spell in the rush of the moment. Figuring she would need time, and wanting to make sure the robot was thoroughly crippeled, he gave the wounded leg one more go, taking satisfaction in the severing of several wires. He then pushed off for the final time, entering freefall and awaiting salvation.
"Only your ass, Daryll?" Zimmy grinned fiercly at the spectacle above. Okay, so neither of them were Setzer-level battle-god, but between the two of them, they weren't bad at all. "The rest of you is just as important, isn't it?"
She chuckled and reached out to the mist above, slowing Daryll's fall as best she could. Unforunately she couldn't set him down gently: that would have meant risking a decent amount of mist manipulation right in the danger zone, which was a no-no. But Daryll was tough, he'd be fine.
The robot landed before he did, as Zimmy released her influence, clanging down hard to the dirt. It was down an arm and a leg, and for a moment, Zimmy wanted to make a joke about the price of attacking them. Unfortunately, she decided to look up instead, and she groaned.
More blurs were descending upon them.
"Well, fuck. Setzer, now's the chance to show me that your pretty body is good for more than just looking at."
Daryll followed up over comms, his face growing pale. "What she means is, more hostiles incoming. Time to get the fucking hell out."
As if mentioning it made it real, as soon as the group started looking at the sky, a ship winked into view, as if a curtain had been whisked aside. A split-second later a flicker of motion from high up caught Zimmy's attention.
For a precious few moments, Zimmy hesitated: she didn't want to interrupt the oh-so-important ramblings of the nobility below, after all. Then the movement evolved into a very robot-shaped blur, and she could be silent no more. "Gentle lords and ladies," she muttered into the air, "I appreciate the grandstanding and all--really, I do--but we've got real problems now. It's time to go. Can the princess walk? Run, preferably? Theta, Trent?"
Daryll jumped on what Trent was saying about teleportation, growing annoyed at the squad's tendency to hold two conversations at once. "No, I cannot, Trent. Well, technically, yes, but I'm not actually very good with teleporting anything except myself, and this is not the place nor time to push my limits. That also means that I'm not about to bring Princess... Princess out either. Theta can take care of any mending we need right now. Zimmy and I will bring this thing down, or at least tie it up. Lee, Trent, watch the new perimeter."
Daryll waited a moment for everyone else to act on their orders, basking in the shame of already forgetting her highness, Colette Skymming's name. After the miniature pity party, he gave a look back and motioned Zimmy in. The look was useless with her cloaking, but at least there was no confusion on who he meant. His only hope was that she'd have one of her infamous plans. Things always seemed to go more smoothly when she took the lead, though instructors rarely agreed.
They had only moments to work out a plan of attack. Ironically she and Daryll were probably the least equipped to handle this giant incoming death-machine. But everyone else was more important, to be perfectly honest. Setzer was the wall to protect the princess, and Gideon and Galahad needed to keep talking to her to keep things from deteriorating, seeing as she could blow the entire crater up instantaneously.
Luckily, her mind flashed back to a very particular moment in training--or more accurately, the many periods of dicking around she and Daryll had passed the time with. "Daryll," she said, as the sound of an incoming robot grew louder and louder. "How well do you remember that aerial fighting bullshit we came up with last year?"
Daryll couldn't help but smile. "I remember that everyone else did indeed call it bullshit. Against a robot, should make the thing helpless. I'm in, on your signal." The excercise last year was supposed to be practice for duo firefights, but Daryll and Zimmy had decided to forgo shooting and cover entirely. Their plan was foiled after several matches, but it worked wonders the first several attempts.
"Cool, great." At least, she mused, they would die in a flash of glory. Then the robot hit the gound in the crater, sending up a spray of debris. She could almost see the thing rising through the dust. Go time.
As she leapt off the spike where she'd been keeping watch, Zimmy reached out to the mist below her and congealed it into a sort of...cosmic jello. It was an old trick she had learned early, good for reducing terminal velocity. Not quite flying--she was still trying to master that--but it was good enough. The problem was that too much mist in the crater itself could set them all on a path to mist-death, so she had to grit her teeth and use as little mist as possible. That meant hitting the ground hard.
"Fffffuck," she hissed as she hit the ground hard. She didn't have time to waste on pain, though, and she rolled to her feet. "Hey!" she shouted, kicking a rock at the robot while she ran closer. It dinged off the big metal head and the thing turned to look at her, just as she smoothed all the mist below her into a frictionless path. It was actually quite a small amount of magic, as were most of her machinations.
The next few steps of this plan required excessive precision. As she reached the robot, she gently pushed on the mist around her, willing it to become buoant. That was how she always jumped so high, except this time...
"Daryll! Help me out." She couldn't lift the damn thing by herself, even with the weakened gravity. He was with her, though, having followed her just a few paces behind and one to her left, avoiding the path of Mist Zimmy employed. He rolled in, timing it so he was lying on his back at the robots shiny, metal feet. Daryll's feet, however, were now making impact with the thing's equivalent of an abdomen, using all the strength in both his legs to shove the thing towards the sky. Intertia was a bitch, but once all that metal got moving, it took its sweet time slowing down.
While the hunk of definitely-not junk was moving upwards, Daryll and Zimmy began enacting part two of setup.
Zimmy glanced at the robot one more time to make sure the plan was working. The thing was heavy as fuck, but they really only had to get the thing to just slightly above the danger-zone, and then Daryll could take care of the rest.
Looked good to her. She turned back to Daryll and smiled. "The things we came up with instead of getting laid, man." Then she tugged just a little bit harder on the mist and fell into a solid 'throwing' stance. Then she grabbed Daryll's arm and waist and bodied him into the air after the robot. "Show 'em even the stupid ideas are useful," she said, more to herself than anyone else.
It had been a while, but Daryll still knew how to maneuver in the air. Throwing his weight, he caught up to the robot and made impact, feet first. Feeling the mist, and drawing it in. he pushed off once more, nudging the robot higher while he worked his best bit of magic. Without a hint of excess effort or theatrics, he relocated himself to now be directly above the helpless hunk of metal, sword already in place. The stab went straight to the things chest armor, and made disturbingly little dent. Its arm-cannon began to glow.
So maybe it wasn't quite so helpless.
Daryll pushed off again, banking in the direction of the thing's head. A cursory examination revealed few seams. The thing didn't really have a neck, so he figured his best bet might be to simply detach that weaponized limb. He teleported again, now on the opposite end, coming up near its legs. This time, he latched on, wrapping one arm around its equivalent of a thigh while planting his feet on its back. He brought the edge of his blade down where the leg he held met the robot's core, and was delighted to feel it give a little. He was promptly shocked when the metal shifted beneath his feet. Apparently the torsos could rotate 360 degress.
By the time it had turned all the way around, however, Daryll was on what was qualified as its back... Or front. He didn't care, really, what mattered was it being a blind spot. This time he went for the arm cannon, aiming at the base once again. It turned, but this time he clung, no longer holding to the independent legs system. He struck once more, and exposed wire.
His blood was pumping as he felt the warm glow once more. The robot had brought its arm cannon up, now pointing back, over its shoulder and at Daryll's head. He blinked, both literally and magically, reappearing on its left, offhand moving to grip its arm. He made a second go for the wounded leg, really just trying to make it move the position of its arm. As an AI, it fell for the deception readily. As Daryll delivered a final blow to the arm, now clinging to its shallow dome of a head, he felt gravity once more take precedence over the lift he had given the flying piece of junk.
"Zimmy, I'm coming down, save my ass!" Daryll yelled, forgetting the communication spell in the rush of the moment. Figuring she would need time, and wanting to make sure the robot was thoroughly crippeled, he gave the wounded leg one more go, taking satisfaction in the severing of several wires. He then pushed off for the final time, entering freefall and awaiting salvation.
"Only your ass, Daryll?" Zimmy grinned fiercly at the spectacle above. Okay, so neither of them were Setzer-level battle-god, but between the two of them, they weren't bad at all. "The rest of you is just as important, isn't it?"
She chuckled and reached out to the mist above, slowing Daryll's fall as best she could. Unforunately she couldn't set him down gently: that would have meant risking a decent amount of mist manipulation right in the danger zone, which was a no-no. But Daryll was tough, he'd be fine.
The robot landed before he did, as Zimmy released her influence, clanging down hard to the dirt. It was down an arm and a leg, and for a moment, Zimmy wanted to make a joke about the price of attacking them. Unfortunately, she decided to look up instead, and she groaned.
More blurs were descending upon them.
"Well, fuck. Setzer, now's the chance to show me that your pretty body is good for more than just looking at."
Daryll followed up over comms, his face growing pale. "What she means is, more hostiles incoming. Time to get the fucking hell out."
Daryll was on edge. There was fire, there were corpses, and there were robots at various levels of "broken." He was particularly unnerved by that ones which were only probably nonfunctional. His paranoia rose when he saw one attempt to right itself, though it only had one working leg and half an arm, sparking flying wildly from the new gaps in its hull. Luckily, most of its power seemed to drain when it placed its stump arm directly on a metal beam from the ship, sending what Daryll could only assume was a massive jolt somewhere into the rubble, where the other end resided.
As people converged on Setzer and Gideon, Daryll kept towards the back, opting to, instead of pushing forward, watch their rear. He took position near some sort of ruined wood piece of furniture, keeping its unburnt mass at a short distance, but between his body and the forest.
It was at this point, while others dealt with this new threat, that Daryll had a minute to think; a luxury he soon regretted. He realized that his normal combat style was dangerous here, amidst the raging Mist. Bits of wreckage moved on their own, fires erupted and were utterly extinguished by the wild magic. As a frequent user of short teleportation, Daryll did not want to think about just how many things could go wrong in such an unstable environment. He felt vulnerable, under equipped, and near blind to the entire situation. Regardless, Daryll had his Gunblade at the ready, prepared to move in case of emergency, and kept his watch while frantic words behind him turned slightly less agitated.
Daryll's sense of vulnerability, however, was soon overwhelmed by hunger. Nobody had really taken a meal, and the smell of burning flesh brought out his appetite, regardless of will. Daryll started to feel a bit ill at his stomach's visceral reaction, but it did little to curb its demands. He tried to redouble his focus on keeping watch, struggling to push his stomach far out of mind, lest he lose what little it did contain.
As people converged on Setzer and Gideon, Daryll kept towards the back, opting to, instead of pushing forward, watch their rear. He took position near some sort of ruined wood piece of furniture, keeping its unburnt mass at a short distance, but between his body and the forest.
It was at this point, while others dealt with this new threat, that Daryll had a minute to think; a luxury he soon regretted. He realized that his normal combat style was dangerous here, amidst the raging Mist. Bits of wreckage moved on their own, fires erupted and were utterly extinguished by the wild magic. As a frequent user of short teleportation, Daryll did not want to think about just how many things could go wrong in such an unstable environment. He felt vulnerable, under equipped, and near blind to the entire situation. Regardless, Daryll had his Gunblade at the ready, prepared to move in case of emergency, and kept his watch while frantic words behind him turned slightly less agitated.
Daryll's sense of vulnerability, however, was soon overwhelmed by hunger. Nobody had really taken a meal, and the smell of burning flesh brought out his appetite, regardless of will. Daryll started to feel a bit ill at his stomach's visceral reaction, but it did little to curb its demands. He tried to redouble his focus on keeping watch, struggling to push his stomach far out of mind, lest he lose what little it did contain.
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