Lugubrious

A New World of Gods (closed go to chapter 2)

Satisfied by Amgarrack's mimicry of the celestial greeting, and confident that the antigeometric being before it constituted a true, fellow Great One, Aforgomon began to disappear. Though it knew of no possible importance in the notion of friendship, it recognized a covenant where one existed, and now thought of itself aligned with this traveler of the airless abyss. With the alien beings visiting this world now no longer a threat in its mind, Aforgomon attuned its mind toward a far more difficult matter: pushing the young gods toward sympathy as well.

Something disturbed it, however, and on a hunch the shambler did not relocate just yet. Though partially masked by the diluted aura of euphoria emanating from Amgarrack, there came a troubling sensation of ill intent. Knowing that nothing mundane could have triggered this feeling, Aforgomon began to fade in once more, moving its hands together to open a tear of light. The next moment, a vile energy swept over it, sending its wrinkled mind reeling and its lithe, sinewy body pinwheeling in space. By the time that Aforgomon composed itself, the damage to its kin had been done, and the miniature but meddlesome craft whose fault it was appeared poised to slip away once more. If allowed to escape, there could be no hope for the Great Ones' kinship, but Aforgomon lacked any method of keeping up with such a streamlined vessel. Instead, it quickly swiped its gnarled hands at empty space, ripping open a minuscule rift through which a small, blobby thing flew like a blowgun's dart—a phantasm slug. It smacked into the marauding ship at great speed, but unharmed thanks to its tiny mass, and obediently attached before the vessel returned to the infinite dark. The diminutive invertebrate shared a connection with its master and would call out to the Great One wherever it might be.

Though all was silent following this series of events, Aforgomon felt the makings of a great upheaval. No good could come of a stolen deity. It worked quickly to transpose itself several hundred feet directly upward, atom by atom, into the bridge of the space center. Then it waited, invisible, while the aliens began their bombardment of earth. Brilliant light gushed from thin air in front of the commanders of the Amgetoll Forces, and from them pushed a skinless head and part of a torso. I am not of this planet, but will be its liaison, the Urtoks knew suddenly. I am of the stars, the very kin of your beloved Great One. Dreams and knowledge are my sustenance, and I crave your insight: why do you slay guiltless men? The thing that stole your god was beyond mortal—a tiny, subtle vessel in the dark.

Aforgomon's mouth began to open, taking on the semblance of a gaping smile. Inside its jagged teeth was a void more insane and terrifying than the far-flung depths of space: a perpetual, murky crucible, in which any and all matter becomes incorporeal thought. The idea of not simply dying, but having one's existence reduced to mere knowledge, more likely than not got the aliens' attention. Humanity is base, but essential to my journey. This planet has young, foolish gods, any one of whom might bear the sin against you. If you persist in your accusations, prepare to battle them, not the hapless humans. They may already be on their way to take revenge. If you persist in your naivety, I will regret depriving my kin of supplicants. Wait while I find my brother, lest your bloodlust destroy both races.

Trusting the Urtoks to bide their time, Aforgomon withdrew into its rift, its next destination the mountain home of the gods.

-=-=-

With no time to waste, the typically methodical shambler instead manifested with a near full-bodied apparition instead, blinking into existence in a hall of Olympus. The sudden and impossible occurrence, combined with the near-completeness of its manifestation, caused a mental ripple in the entire region of the palace in which it arrived. While the soldiers, servants, and gods, both old and knew, suffered headaches of various degree, Aforgomon peered around with its senses. Unexpectedly, Olympus, too, seemed to be in turmoil. Did the Urtoks make it here already? The Great Ones felt a sudden starvation for the answer. In its confusion, however, an undead warrior of the old gods pierced its pale shin with his gladius, spilling murky bluish fluid onto the hallowed hall's tiles. For a moment, Aforgomon froze, registering the sensation of pain.

Then it screamed. Its guttural, bloodcurdling wail echoed through the halls, and a sudden maniacal vigor flooded its freely-bleeding body. In the dark air, great gashes of light appeared on their own, and from them extended dozens and dozens of oversized human arms. They lashed around indiscriminately, grabbing onto the old gods' warriors and pulling them to pieces. Aforgoman reached down, plucked the soldier that wounded it off the ground, at slammed it into the nearest wall. Still shrieking, it mashed the warrior into the stone again and again until it was wet and chunky enough to stick there of its own accord, after which the shambler continued mashing, again and again and again and again, until there was nothing but a brown paste. The soldiers that survived the onslaught of arms until the rifts closed rushed at Aforgomon, spears at the ready. Instantly they found themselves impaled are crushed in half by tentacles that squirmed from a hole of light spawned in Aforgoman's wound. The next moment, the hall was quiet and lonely once again, except for the shivering of a Great One.

A few moments later, Aforgomon trudged, serene, into another hall. Inside it sensed a peculiarly familiar form. Mother. Aphrodite's mind heard. Like an eggshell, you are so small now that you've fulfilled your purpose. Perhaps you have returned in search of a fond memory...lying bloated and vast in an empty room, waiting for the day you might find your worth? Though the Great One took offense to the Merged, and favored the old gods, it valued Aphrodite as nothing more than a used womb.

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

Why do you guys say that...?

A New World of Gods (closed go to chapter 2)

@Lugubrious Oi, get a move on friend! Things are a happening and soon Amgarrack will have a role to play! :D A very short role, involving [REDACTED]. >:P But whose [REDACTED]? MUAHAHAHA WHO KNOWS?!

@PerseusArchean

Get a move on with what? Nothing's happened. I suppose I could put together a few sentences with Aforgomon acknowledging Amgarrack's acknowledgment, but that seems like a waste of time.

A New World of Gods (closed go to chapter 2)

And oncr again I find mself in the presence of writer's block and confusion. Oh, a bit of anger towards aforgomon as well. Anyone have any suggestions? Or should I just go and try to think up a small subplot to pitch?

@OtomostheCrazy

Unfortunately, anything you do can't reflect on Aforgomon, since nobody acknowledged its presence while it was spying on you all.

Phoenix Wing (A Fairy Tail RP-Always Open, Open)

Ange Bolganone – Frenzy Camp

@raijinslayer@liferusher

The young woman now serving as guard knew that sooner or later the counter-intuitively gregarious demon might try and speak to her, and had been rehearsing what she'd say over and over again in her head—as well as under her breath, though not too audibly. Still, her easily-agitated nature struck her dumb for a moment when Argus did address her. ”Oh! ...Most regrettably, I'm not much of a stickler for conversation. If you wouldn't mind, I'd instead prefer to allow these moments go by peacefully and sirenly...uh, serenely, rather, and unwind the tension your display wound up.” After a moment she remembered that this didn't answer his question. ”Uh, uh, and my name is Ange Bolganone. Lieutenant. Lieutenant Bolganone.” She adjusted her glasses and her position on her glass stool, keeping a straight and professional face.

Leixia Wuiwomi – In the Little Wood

@oblivion666

The extreme forces evident even in such mundane aspects of Riona as movement prevented Leixia from stockpiling any real confidence despite landing a few arrows. Some trainers taught that to make one's opponent mad guaranteed victory, but Frenzy Plant had shown the archer that any combatants more talented than a street thug would more often than not become stronger the angrier they got. For some, rage was a blind fire, burning indiscriminately and foolishly, but for others it was the searing forge that tempered their technique. Unfortunately, as she watched Riona pound cracks into the ground, Leixia felt no anger; only the resigned acknowledgment of imminent pain pricked her.

Sure enough, Riona shot forward, the flames around her brimming with brutal tenacity. Too scared to risk dodging, Leixia opted to go for absolute defense to mitigate the beatdown hurling her way. Dropping her bow, she bent her head forward and raised her arms, palms-in and vertically pressed together, to protect her further. As such, Riona's blazing dropkick connected, Leixia suffered a mere slight concussion with agony in her bones but no fractures. For a moment, the archer blacked out, and when her sensed flooded back she was staring at the sky between the trees. How did I get here? she wondered blankly, before the realization came. When it did, she also discovered how painful her arms were, though in all likelihood a mulched, broken face would have been worse. ”Ahhh...ah, fu—I mean, fiddlesticks. Ow! Well, you're in.” She allowed Riona to help her to her feet, not eager to test her arms' ability to hold her weight. ”When you go for B-rank, ask for Kilo, or Enma. They'll...ah. Put up an actual challenge.” She gingerly pointed back toward the camp. ”You better not tell anyone how bad you stomped me. No, in fact, I did fine for a C-rank. C's aren't weak necessarily, we just have, um, weaknesses. Let's go. Would you, er...I'm a little dizzy. Don't support me, just let me know if I step the wrong way. Yeah?”

Nero the Genie – Arena Stands

@rivaan@lunarlors34@shikaru

Nero shared thoroughly in the general pleasure taken by the Shadow Heart wizards in the transformation of Arthur. In getting to know strangers, risks were essential, and sometimes the gamble paid off. If one could maneuver into a position where he laughed alongside his would-be acquaintances, Nero thought, he nailed it. When Jessica collapsed in a fit of laughter, leaning forward, the Genie did not spurn the opportunity to sneak a glance at and commit to memory two of her most memorable features. Still, behind his grin he worried about Ayame. Knowing that the young girl fared extravagantly poorly in crowds turned his apprehension into an almost big-brotherly terror for her. However, he could not ditch these fine folks just yet, and tuned back in on the conversation just in time to hear someone mention the name Georgie. Almost instantly the clever dark mage concluded that this name belonged to the guild master. After all, these people belonged to the same guild, and a name all of them would recognize and bring up fairly often in idle conversation might as well be the guild's most prominent persona. Never heard that one before, he mused. Might have to pay these whoever-they-ares a visit.

He turned his attention to Janna, who after Nero's inspiring sorcery on Arthur had dredged up a wish of her own. The Genie awaited it with theatrical eagerness, only for his mood to fall completely flat when the girl asked him for an act of healing. Of all the things... Nero could cause sickness and hurt, but not mend it. Though Curse Laws could alter nearly anything, they held no purely benevolent power. Nero stood still, and on a whim put his hand to his mouth as if in thought, though only to hide that he was biting his tongue in frustration. There was no doubt about it: if he couldn't pull something off, the faith of these people in him and perhaps all would-be bringers of happiness would be shaken. Despite holding no obligation to make sure these people felt satisfied, Nero always had trouble allowing a job to be completed poorly if he wanted to do it well. In the nick of time, just as the pause was beginning to stretch into awkward, a lightbulb sparked in his head.

”Well dearie, I'm afraid I can't whip up something to wipe them away immediately, but I can give you the next best thing: a good possibility and best wishes. Here, watch this: umm...Friendly Genie Magic: Gracious Arbor Blackneedles!” From the dark mage's fingertips sprang bumpy but sharp-tipped needles the color of pitch. He collected them and held them out in the palm of his gloved hand. ”These are...restorative pine needles from the Gracious Arbor. Grind them up and add them to any ol' tea mix, drink 'em down, and unless the Arbor's had a bad year you'll be free of scars in a week. Two, tops.” With utmost care, he deposited them with Janna.

Nero gathered himself to leave, but at that moment something clicked with him about what Anya said. ”Humm...missie, didja say, 'Fairy Tail is my home'? As in, the defunct guild from a century ago? Weird. Anyhoo, I've got to take off. A friend of mine mighta gotten lost. If you all have more wishes, fate will let us meet again. The spell on your buddy Arthur will wear off in less than an hour, so don't give him too much of a -ruff- time! Heeheehee!”

After a ceremonious bow, Nero hustled off. In no time he'd retraced his steps to where he'd seen Ayame last, just inside the stadium seating area, but his little companion was nowhere to be found. The dark mage released an airy, I-might-have-screwed-the-pooch-on-this-one sigh, and hurried out of the arena and back toward Crocus. He reasoned that the ochlophobic girl might have run away from the crowded Doma Flau. Black eyes squinted through purple-rimmed glasses at the surrounding shops and houses. "Humm. If I was a tiny, pitiable, scaredy-cat little girl, where would I scurry off to...?"

A New World of Gods (closed go to chapter 2)

Sorry I didn't do any of the mentions this time around.

Anyways I plan on doing a time skip of around a year soon, so let me know when you are prepared.

@Cuccoruler

For what purpose? Skipping time prevents us from establishing our characters and pursuing developments. It doesn't matter as much to me since Aforgomon isn't human, but the rest of you might be losing out on a lot.

It might seem unrealistic that big events for earth might happen in quick succession, but it might be better for us as writers, so things don't get incredibly disjointed.

Anyway, that's an idiot's two cents. Just a thought.

A New World of Gods (closed go to chapter 2)

@rechonq@Ace of flames01@Cuccoruler@BlackPanther@OtomostheCrazy@Zelosse@PerseusArchean@Trevor1001

The picnic in Asgard concluded with no god, not even the nonsensical madness god Sheogorath, having acknowledged the presence of a subtle lurker. With no interest in or need for food or company, the unseen Great One merely observed. Looming over the assembled gods, its senses probed into them, not only understanding and committing to memory the more obvious of their attributes by prying into their dreams and wants even as they were awake.

Aforgomon examined the god of death and love, embodied as a jackal never satiated, playing at the emotions of the others in order to learn more about them. Alec's primitive methods of espionage amused the dimensional shambler greatly.

Aforgomon looked upon Rhona, with her menagerie of celestial spirits. Her meekness and normality befitted an insignificant human girl, not a being tasked with responsibility beyond responsibility and given power beyond power. But perhaps the goddess's mind was yet immature, even as the Merged went. One could not expect a dragonfly larva to soar as its parent did. Her terror at the sight of Aforgomon's debtor caused it to bristle in particular.

Aforgomon found itself in the presence of the nightmare god once again, and used the light of the Nordic holy plane to illuminate the dark recesses of his mystique. Of every so-called deity present, the Great One most respected the formless, writhing manifestation of Thalios, who unlike the others dared to dip into the sea of incomprehensibility that defined godhood. Most tellingly, Thalios paid homage to the powers from which he came not only by taking on a semblance more remarkable than a puny human, but also by recognizing through ominous dreams that they would soon cause disaster for the Merged.

Aforgomon might have burbled vile, whispery remarks about the being that styled herself Cia if only it existed in Asgard enough to speak. Like Rhona, Cia did not at all fit the mantle of godhood, instead coming off as naïve and childlike. In a world where the shambling lurker held some sort of responsibility over Cia, it might have been disappointed as well as underwhelmed.

Aforgomon observed the cold one briefly. This godling imagined himself to be a protector, but what did he protect, if anything? The fallacy could be seen by even the least of those wise to the world's true workings. Every minute of every day, suffering ran rampant among the people of the world. Nations diminished, tragedy occurred, and disaster brewed. Landon might have done well to instead simply be sympathetic in spirit, answering when called upon, but as he idly picnicked he already wallowed in his self-made doom of hypocrisy.

Aforgmon's eternal grin seemed appropriate when aimed at Yato, though the fortune god couldn't see it. Here stood a deity who fondled no pretenses for responsibility, instead running with the realities of chance and change, employing his vast powers for personal amusement. This, the Great One could appreciate, if not respect.

Aforgomon cast a withering look at the paltry dancer, thinking no deity more undeserving of their station. Such occurrences invited even the utterly alien to better understand humor, so as to determine whether or not Yuki's status as a Merged was some sort of divine joke.

After learning all it craved to know about these gods and goddesses, Aforgomon disappeared entirely, leaving not even a last breath in its wake.

-=-=-

Something new...

The humans assured from time to time, faced with a regrettable deprivation of creativity, that there was nothing new under the sun, but this day they were proven wrong. As thousands of mortal eyes looked skyward, seeking a visitor from beyond the realm of all they knew, Aforgomon looked upward as well. It sought in the newly-arrived abyss travelers a concept no other did: companionship. Though it had never seen them, the Great One always assumed that in the far-flung reaches of nebulous space, beyond the grasp of mathematics and philosophy, there lived its kin—kin of the cosmos, as beyond physical form and deplorable human semantics as Aforgomon itself.

Ignoring the useless and wasteful meeting of the Merged, the dimensional shambler sought a far more direct yet less conventional approach. The haughty and contentious voices on Olympus rang with the same shades of pretension and self-satisfaction that plagued the mortals. As long as the Merged emulated the lesser beings, they would never amount to anything more than they.

In the void of space, the tears of light seemed more like miniature stars; when they appeared from nothing, they brought to mind the scintillating creation of the abyss's vast but lonely fireflies. They shimmered experimentally at random points in the emptiness, like a prairie dog poking its head up from different holes in the earth to find the best spot, all the while honing in on the Amgetoll Forces' divine emissary. After some time, a brilliant and extravagant light appeared not too far away at all from Amgarrack, and from the rift floated Aforgomon. It remained wordless and motionless, a testament to the angular, gleaming anomaly that hovered beneath the vessel of its own lesser beings. A few moments passed before the Great One moved its arms, holding one straight upward and the other straight out to the side in a form of celestial greeting.

In this fashion Aforgomon made contact. Once the greeting had been performed, Aforgomon attempted to seed Amgarrack's mind with communication. Welcome, sojourner. I have walked long and far in search of those who came from the sky, but you have found me. Among the starry hosts we have met, a fortuitous collision, we who though different are united by Greatness. For the sake of the young gods, whose eyes are yet to open, I have wandered this earth and its alternates. They may detest you, but I will stand by you always, my kin.

In Hunting Beasts and Monsters

The creatures did not disappoint. Before Highball's eyes, Paul and Kenji joined the battle to assist Donny, and a few of the monsters met the challenge. When it became apparent that the 'God Hands' were not human but in fact men with dog heads, in the manner of some twisted Egyptian divinity, Highball remained remarkably unfazed. All along, she had expected that a dream world's inhabitants would not make sense, and in truth the fact that the vast majority of the people she'd met so far were normal surprised her more. Sitting upon her well, Highball pondered the significance of the beasts' name. If the calls from the neighboring houses a few moments ago constituted anything if significance, these 'God Hands', despite their monstrous appearance, seemed to be performing a service for the people. Of course, Highball could neither envision nor want to find out more about whatever ritualistic savagery awaited this woman, but the event created a unique idea of perspective. Either this woman did indeed have crimes of a spiritual nature to answer for, or she was the lone spot of light in a town lost to darkness and corruption. Given what Highball new of the World of Wasted Dreams so far, she admittedly anticipated the latter. Plus, it stimulated her imagination to think of what kind of lumbering, vile god these freakish monsters could serve as peons for.

Unfortunately, the semi-canines also came through for Highball's other guess: they offered no challenge to the newly-minted hunters. For a moment it appeared as though Donny might be in some sort of peril, pinned beneath the noteworthy might of the God Hand that assailed him, but Kenji's spear negated the threat. After getting to his feet, Donny sprinted away while Highball watched, wondering if a single foul-breathed beast was enough to break his will. Only a moment later, the man's acquisition of his rope answered her question. Kenji's struggle with the impaled monster came to an abrupt end thanks to the end of Donny's brick flail, and Highball raised her hands to salute the frothing fiend's passing with a soft, though somewhat sarcastic, clap.

Highball's mock celebration was interrupted by Maria, however, who presumed to needle her with patronizing suggestions. A look of incredulous indignation flew the mannequin’s way, saying without words What? Waste my energy on these worthless things? They're pathetic. How much value is there in those flea-bitten hides? Especially to go at them like piranhas in a shoal. They're not even attacking. Barely stronger than an adult male, not large or intimidating, and not keen to attack as a pack even while their numbers dwindled. Did Maria also think it would be worth it if five poachers worked together to shoot a single passive deer? Highball would fight when she saw a worthwhile take, or a chance to have some real fun.

Still, she deigned to watch as Maria assaulted one of the God Hands herself. Highball observed through half-closed hazel eyes as the thing failed to land a single hit on Maria, who taunted all the while. The mannequin's quips brought a smile to Highball's face. Wow, really sticking it to that brainless dog, tough girl. She looked away when Maria began to use the dying thing for pleasure. No kill like overkill, I suppose—especially for psychos. The next thing she knew, a rotten head sailed her way like some grotesque sports ball. Not pleased with the prospect of touching it, Highball quickly maneuvered her cane into the object's path, switching it to rake form as she did. Upon the nasty tines the severed head snagged and hung, odious and odorous both. The only thing that displeased Highball more than the object was the pity that had sent it soaring. With the slightest of efforts, she tipped the rake and let the viscera plop messily to the cobblestones. Not just pity, but a pity loan. I'm not lazy or gutless, lady. I'm discerning. After rejecting Maria's offering, she leaned on the upright rake and looked back at the other group. Kenji and Paul had already dispatched more foes. Highball decided that in short order she'd strike out on her own to find her own prey.

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

Friend sent me this so I thought I'd share with the rest of you Jojo fans:



And I wouldn't mind having Robert be taken out of the leadership role if that makes things easier, @Lugubrious.

@Guess Who

Not necessarily easier, that's not the goal at all; that would just be a convenient byproduct of a character-building experience. And it is totally, utterly your call. Just a possibility I thought I'd offer in case you hadn't considered.

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

According to Monty, team names should be evocative of a color, be it an actual color, a color in another language, or a visible thing that brings to mind a certain color. When that's been impossible so far, we've gone with things that are at least visible/touchable. 'Regrets' would not be my first choice.

I took a quick look for more possibilities but none were good:
Ringlets (probably not all that good for a team with all male members)
Rutabagas (the vegetable. Evocative of a brownish-purple color)

It might be worth considering given Robert's records and ability that Ozpin might reassign the team, making someone else (someone perhaps more fit for the position) the leader, and thereby opening up more naming possibilities. Having the leadership given to someone else might provide an interesting direction to take Robert: he'd probably feel bad about it, but being free from the stress and responsibility might ultimately help restore his happier nature.