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I'm fine with her, so long as she doesn't do anything. The only good Horror is one that never does anything beyond their shifty little lair though.

Though hum, if she's changed into something that doesn't have any world-ending scheme or plan in mind that involves massive human sacrifice, she may be just classified as a Deity at this point. Greater Horror is a classification akin to 'High Casual' anyways. A Horror is just a Horror, after all.
Damn, super fast dropping huh.
Feel free to, dude.
That's what everyone's assuming, at least. Little did they know, their ignorance just triggered the Queen of Pricks.
The Sharehouse
Time continued to pass as the day began to cool, the beachside breeze slipping through the wide-open windows of the sharehouse. The sun was beginning to dip over the mountains now, long shadows cast over the city of Tenoroshi. In the kitchen, dinner, of which stewed snapper was the star, had been served. There wasn’t a proper dining room or a table large enough for everyone to sit around, of course, and some, such as Otoya, had brought their own dinner for the night. The sentiment was there though, with a table that could seat four and a faded, leather couch that the rest could squeeze into. The rice cooker worked overtime, the instant pot steamed with miso soup, the single cutting board was bleeding with vegetable vestiges and fish juice, and someone was going to have a lot of dishes to do afterwards.

That someone though, wasn’t there.

Nothing so convenient as satellite television existed, but there was an old radio that the former members of the club left behind, tuned to the news, or to the weather, or to commercials that should have been put off the air a long time ago. A forecaster spoke of hotter days ahead, sermonizing to people about how water was God. An indifferently cheerful newscaster reminded listeners that the recent dry spell meant that anyone camping out in the mountains should watch out for empty cabins. A sportscaster spoke his spiel of in-land sports, and segued into a story a foxtailed porcupine spotted on June 15, riding the subway line from Central to Northwestern. Meaningless babble, capped off by a staticky jingle and a commercial break that ended in five seconds of awkward silence.

The radio broadcast continued again. A forecaster spoke of hotter days ahead. An indifferently cheerful newscaster reminded listeners that the recent dry spell meant that anyone camping out in the mountains is prohibited from making campfires. A sportscaster spoke his spiel of in-land sports.

The stewed fish was good. Sayuri really outdid herself this time.

The sun continued to set, gradating into the boundaries of twilight.

Turn orders? As in, there's an actual list for people to follow in determining when to post?
They only needed five seconds, thanks to some quick shooting from Strix, but the burden on Thrones was still blood-boiling. As soon as the final gunner droid had its head caved in, she dropped her Arts, arms falling limply to the side. Outside, Feral wrestled for control of the VTOL and actually won, while inside, the place looked viable to collapse from how shredded the pillars were. Could she walk?

She tried, but her head felt like it was splitting at the seams now. All stimulation with no true release; she definitely, totally, completely, utterly despised the neural network. She pressed a sweaty hand against her nose. No blood, but she smelled it anyways. Collapsing onto her knees, the Sankta operator took in deep breaths, quelling the nausea that wouldn't be removed just with some virtual retching.

"Some," Thrones spat out, "help here?"
Skin tight attire and no underwear either, evidently.

I'd recommend Kengan Asura myself, in terms of martial arts hijinks. It ALSO has a low-physical, high-performing character.
How advanced is science in a world where there's magic? Are there any interesting theories and such going around in the academic circles?
:doubt:
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