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26 days ago
Current Now running: World of Light: The Tale of the Dark Itself
5 mos ago
Forever and ever, amen
8 mos ago
Calling out from Scatman's world
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11 mos ago
Called into action - by threats that seem harmonized
1 yr ago
Tomorrow comes

Bio

Current GM of World of Light. When it comes to writing, there's nothing I love more than imagination, engagement, and commitment. I'm always open to talk, suggestion, criticism, and collaboration. While I try to be as obliging, helpful, and courteous as possible, I have very little sympathy for ghosts, and anyone who'd like to string me along. Straightforwardness is all I ask for.

Looking for more personal details? I'm just some dude from the American south; software development is my job but games, writing, and trying to help others enjoy life are my passions. Been RPing for over a decade, starting waaaay back with humble beginnings on the Spore forum, so I know a thing or two, though I won't pretend to be an expert. If you're down for some fun, let's make something spectacular together.

Most Recent Posts

@Lugubrious
Lug, a question, if that's alright?

You (or rather, Buer) said in your previous post that he had tried to do the whole "Demon Contract" thing, but was tricked by a human. I'm wondering, does this mean that Demons in general can make pacts with humans, or does it need a certain kind of demon?


Any demon with sufficient intelligence and power can make a pact, but typically only the very intelligent and very powerful do. Only witches and other master occultists really have the know-how and ability to set up such a pact, however. So a better way to say it might be: it doesn't necessarily need to be a certain kind of demon, but there are specific tendencies, and there does typically need to be a certain kind of human. Your everyday teenager can't stumble on an evil book in a pawnshop and summon a demon, for instance.
Nobody made a peep, and few dared to breath, when from the pitch black ahead there shined a light. Still, the sight reinvigorated every muscle, and put a spring in every step and servo. Prepared for a rumble just as much as they prepared for relief, the six operatives of Gilgamesh rushed through the corridor toward the fascinating beacon up ahead. This particular hallway resembled a hotel’s, but long neglected, with every door leading to nothing more than rooms empty but for dust.

Unexpectedly, the passage opened up into a huge chamber with a ribbed concentric circle ceiling. Underfoot the bricks crumbled and chipped at the slightest provocation, and the water-damaged ceiling appeared nearly as defunct but far more perilous in that regard. Brick columns stood like trees in a silent, stone grove, the pattern extending into the shadows. At the room’s very center, a circular hub whose top flared outward into the centermost dome harbored the single beam of light. Instinctively the group approached, though none failed to notice that in a room like this, attack could come not only from any direction, but all of them at once. These worries unnerved the operatives far less, however, than the shadows that appeared to move. Pinpricks of eerie green speckled the ebon void that lay beyond the reach of the agents’ various light sources, yet they remained perfectly still rather than flitting around like fireflies. In very short order the group reached the hub. Into it stepped Otsune, radio primed to try for a signal. Though it seemed like the slightest noise would interrupt the deathly silence consuming the room and invite some instant attack, Otsune whispered into the radio without delay. ”Come in, Albatross. This is Phantom. We are underground, in a cistern connected to an abandoned subway. Supernatural activity is rising. We must be getting close. Mark my position and send reinforcements. Phantom out.”

She finished not a moment too soon. An awful scraping of metal over stone filled the cistern chamber, denoting the arrival of the enemy. Over those portentous sounds came the likeness of an enormous saw or two. Everyone present could guess the source: Dullahans, predictable but tough-to-kill Fiend-class demons. A less subtle disturbance in the shadows indicated the arrival of more Mephistos as well. Quite suddenly, the darkness was alive with the forces of hell. The six operatives fanned out to surround and put their backs to the cistern’s central hub. A single, monotonous word reverberated through the oppressive air: ”Engage.”

Immediately the gun-toting members of the squad began to fire. A fusillade of ice shards from Babyfingers’ endothermic cannon penetrated the darkness, while the yellow of Bullion’s muzzle flash and the brilliant azure of Souta’s fused fire illuminated the vicious faces of demons hiding in the dark before ventilating them. The demons did not obligingly wait to be shot, however, and quickly closed to melee range. Attacking in twos or threes, the Hatreds and Mephistos faced off against the armored knuckles of Atlas, Ell’s screaming mace, Souta’s Silverbeast, Bullion’s bayonet, and the augmentations of Babyfingers and Otsune. Thanks to his Devil Arm, Souta fought with a ferocity nearly parallel to the demon’s. With gleaming claws he ripped through smoky shroud, red carapace, and metallic demonhide. A Hideous whirled its scythe, and after blocking with both hands, he grabbed the scythe and twisted his body. The demon lost its footing, was carried into the air, and abruptly returned to the ground with a Riptide technique. The lancelike finger of a Mephisto shot toward him, and Souta, with claws entangled by the other monster’s corpse, swore and struggled to throw his elbow in the way of his face, preparing himself for pain. Instead, a salvo of torn bricks flew from nowhere to batter the Mephisto, squashing it like a bug against the ground. Puzzled, Souta searched for his savior, but found his allies engaged. He could see Ell on his left and Bullion on his right, both of whom had sustained wounds. The smooth, lethal blasts of Otsune’s Burabura Boost could be heard over the din, and a spray of ice in the corner of his eye confirmed Babyfingers’ activity. Another second’s search found Atlas away from the circle, pinned against a pillar by a Dullahan’s enormous saw shield. Before he could make anything else out, the bellow of Babyfingers thundered over the noise, “We’ve got to go! Cut a path through them!”

He charged away from the pillar into the darkness, and his nearest allies immediately broke off from their duels to follow. Ell cried out as she received a scythe slash to her exposed thigh, but she did not stop sprinting. Good girl, thought Souta as he followed, with Bullion right on his tail. Otsune paused to fire a trio of rockets into the weak spot on the Dullahan’s back, slaying it and allowing Atlas to break free and follow. As one the group charged into the dark, with Babyfinger’s ice trail keeping the Hideous off their tails. Over the hazard Mephistos flowed, but Bullion and Souta fired backwards as they ran. ”Where are we going!?” he yelled as a cluster of fused fire exploded in a Mephisto’s face, splattering it. The next instant he ran into Ell, nearly knocking them both down, and he discovered that the group had stopped. In front of them lay a brick wall, but between them and the wall floated a black, inky apparition with a single green eye. Humans, came a whisper, more ethereal and chilling than any ever made by Otsune. Follow me. It disappeared through the wall, and Babyfingers, after recovering from his surprise, shoulder-charged the bricks. They crumbled, revealing a path, and with great haste the six ran through. Babyfingers brought up the rear this time, and created a block of solid ice behind them to stall the demons for a minute or so. Trusting in the ghost, Gilgamesh’s agents ran on.

-=-=-


The feeling grew stronger and stronger. Gomory would have known that she drew closer and closer to the second seal even if parts of the walls and floor didn’t randomly tear away and hurl themselves at either her or the Fausts. Occasionally, one of the culprits –black spirits that she guessed to be the ghosts of humans- would manifest and become a spectral barrier blocking the way in a feeble attempt to hinder her progress. Even sheathed, her Jiaolong tore through these defenses. Still, they wore at her patience, and one of her Fausts lost its hat to a surprise bricking. When in a rectangular room lined with tombs a dozen spirits manifested, Gomory smiled instead of snarling; the spectral presence could not be far at all. Moving with deceptive grace and beauty she dispatched one guardian spirit after another, and her Fausts raked them apart. So vengeful were these haunts, however, that they attacked in groups with little regard for one another, attempting to bind her and then crush her limbs or her throat with invisible hands. When the skirmish ended, her chest heaved from exertion, but she could not afford to rest. At her command the Fausts cooperated to roll aside a stone blocking the door, and with swagger in her step Gomory entered.

Before her lay a vast cavern, which would have been a bottomless pit about five hundred feet in diameter if not for the gargantuan pillar of rock that lay at its center. From this entrance to that pillar stretched empty space. Less than a meter in front of the demoness lay featureless oblivion, but on the great pillar she could spy something most interesting indeed. In the middle of the platform rested a pile of enormous stones positively brimming with spectral green energy, around which whirled numerous black spirits. Pieces of stone levitated at random in the air. Rather than silence, the entire place brimmed with a low, ominous humming, interrupted sporadically by whispers of despair. The shadow of a smile snuck across Gomory’s face, and she leaped out across the void. Landing on one of the floating stones, she jumped again. The Fausts steadily hovered after her while she leaped from rock to rock, until she stood, a little ruffled but very triumphant, on the center platform. Before her stood the Eidolic Cairn, a wellspring of human spirit energy and the Second Seal of the Apocalypse.

”Hm.” A platoon of ghosts rushed toward her. Gomory rolled her eyes and turned her back. One of them raked its fingers across her bare shoulder, but she barely flinched. Even stranger, she did not attack. The spirits looked at her Fausts, but they did nothing but turn around as well, facing back the way they came. ”Attack me again,” Gomory clutched her weapon, staring at the entrance. ”And I will gladly expunge each and every one of you. But you should not be afraid. We’re here…to help.”
Gimme a few minutes, maybe a few hours. I'm going to tell you when you're wrong soon enough!


I would be interested to hear your feedback on any way I can improve.

@Lugubrious ohhh will remove it asap then ^_^' I don't own a console so I've never really played bayonetta mind you I've watched Let's play on the entire first game but haven't played it. As for the devil trigger well I can write it differently alright. Though considering the other examples of the skill like dante and virgil her demonic form will still be very human like. A thing of which I actually have a few pictures of how I imagine it. Even drew one, though can't upload it right now.


No problem. Looking forward to seeing what you've got.
Man. I think you guys really miss the point on devil triggers.


The point is that Devil Trigger unleashes the character's true demonic form, right?

@Rivaan Anyway, Kosara seems mostly alright to me. I would advise taking another look at a few of her powers. For instance, I would recommend the removal of the weapon Chernabog entirely. In addition to Chernabog already being the name of a scythe used by Bayonetta, the abilities it has are enough to warrant a style completely its own. I don't think its necessary. In addition, you will want to change the description of Devil Trigger so that it has her assuming her full form, rather than tapping into power and altering appearance slightly.

I will begin working on a post shortly that really spices things up.
<Snipped quote by hatakekuro>

The hell happened to Nolan...?

(Im not following up either so again I apologize)


Aw, I would have liked it if you read the collab posts that we worked hard to make.
I never mentioned any ruins. It's not absolutely necessary that every single character winds up at the important location. If you feel like your character can do something interesting elsewhere, that's perfectly fine.

I'm rather busy, comparatively, but I'll do what I can to move us along.

@Lugubrious Thanks for the feedback, I left some things unclear or unkown on purpose to be able to come up with an interesting subplot or character development later on as you mentioned as well. As for playing a character without emotions, my idea was that pretty soon in the story KYL-9XX would get messed up pretty badly or get a part of his head blown off, only to realize shortly after that his emotions-inhibiting chip has been (partly?) destroyed...and well, let's say that what becomes of him personality-wise is going to depend on a lot of factors, and things may not be as clear cut as they seem...i dont want to give away too much yet if that's ok? Also, @Sho Minazuki suggested you would be the one best suited to tell me where my character can come in story-wise.

Thanks guys, really looking forward to this!


Hm, I see. Once things go south (which they will soon) we can have your character and another Gilgamesh operative appear as reinforcements.
So what I'm getting here is the Weyland-Yutani-style megacorp with their own private militia are actually meant to be the good guys in this scenario rather than a third antagonist faction? I assumed the guys there would be big fights for the demon hunters, like a more active Ithavoll Group stand-in. That's why I made him like he's a big flashy boss battle, and gave him the personality of a saturday morning cartoon villain.

If Gilgamesh are supposed to be the good guys then the whole thing falls apart. So since my guy doesn't work, and I don't really feel like coming up with a whole new guy, I guess I'll just take it down and leave you all to do as you will.


Well, they're not really good guys. Its an army fighting, professionally, for what its leader believes in. This just so happens to be asserting humanity's place against angels and demons. When it comes to methods, they are by no means knights in shining armor. Despite having a good goal, they're a faction all their own. Anyway, we definitely aren't aiming for player characters to be bosses. Any bosses are GM territory.

If you don't feel like putting forward additional effort, far be it from me to stop you. See you around.
@Zorogami ah, another hero of humanity! After looking over your character, I see no overt flaws. At first I thought there might be some sort of conflict in the backstory and personality since Gilgamesh augmentations do not tamper with personality, but as I read on it became quite clear that your character received his upgrades from an outside source, one undoubtedly more dubious than Gilgamesh. Very interesting; this could be an subplot to pursue at a later date. My only worry is whether or not your character would be really fun to play for your sake. Personality-devoid characters are known to become boring surprisingly quickly. An angle you might consider was that he had the emotion-dampening chip in for some time, but recently it's started to go off, giving him a few quirks that make give him a trace of insanity. Personally I'd think that would be more fun, but it's 100% your call, of course.

I concur with the prevailing opinions concerning @Zobozun's character. I need not say anything about him being too strong, which has been covered; instead, as the resident manager of the humanity faction, I have some comments about the choice of character. Let me start with a question: how many armies enlist punks off the street and neither bother to train them nor mentally condition them for warfare before spending untold amounts of money developing cybernetic enhancements? The answer is none, because Gilgamesh would not do that. As the face of human achievement and authority against heaven and hell, Gilgamesh holds an extremely high standard. I'm fine with your character getting into Gilgamesh, but being slapped in there is not the way to do it. In addition, I don't see why he needs enhancements if his main focus is fire. Not to mention, the aesthetic of Gilgamesh's augmentations are less power-suit, more hulking mechanics. Even Otsune, who is the apex of cybernetic advancement, has bulky augmentations.

All the same, I hope this critique doesn't put you off! We'd be delighted to have you.


I am immune.
With the pleasantries out of the way, the six operatives lapsed into silence. Though Otsune, who served as the team's active captain, faded away into invisibility, she did not need to tell the others their destination. No city, no matter its reputation for the paranormal, naturally played host to such malignant fog. Following the path taken by the cloud, despite the obvious danger, stood as an obvious choice. Only the remarkable speed at which the haze swept through the city prevented the warriors of humanity from following on its proverbial heels, and by the time the six arrived at Memorial Park, only smoky traces of their nebulous quarry remained. Grimly wordless, the squad split up to examine the park, and in very short order reconvened at the base of the founder's statue. An invisible hand elevated the fountain grate, and one after another the six began their descent.

Beyond the uniform spread of light trickling through the replaced grate lay mostly darkness. Bullion merely clicked his tongue as he activated his goggles, but his comrades held no such ability. In the shadows, Otsune flickered back into sight, no longer needed her light-warping particles now that the darkness would hide her. On her head, the electronic likeness of a flower glowed softly, its warm light barely scratching the gloom. Souta, meanwhile, willed the magic sewn into his clothing to activate. His own luminescence, teal in color, provided scant reprieve from the darkness. The only other member of the team to be able to cope with the dark conditions, Babyfingers, turned on his flashlight last, thereby saving Ell and Atlas from resigning themselves to squinting. Immediately Otsune disappeared, the click of her augmented legs on the floor the only indicator of her departure, and without any time to lose the other operatives hurried after her.

For nearly half an hour, the six navigated brusquely through a labyrinthine series of tunnels and rooms. None of it appeared overtly supernatural in nature. Souta counted four basements, one horrifically unpleasant sewer, and more than a dozen different staircases. Frequently he thought he heard the sounds of people behind walls or locked doors, but the group never paused to find out. Only after exiting the sprawling, disused underground floor of a parking garage did the operatives find themselves in a subway system. In mere moments they discerned, by the state of the track, the walls, and a nearby access hatch, that this particular subway's abandonment probably predated that of the parking garage's. This place, however, felt different. As best as Souta could describe it, the rooms through which he passed over the course of the last thirty-odd minutes struck him as empty. Here, however, the hairs on the back of his neck rose at a new sensation: ambiguity. Be it smell, sound, sight, or touch, none of his senses could confirm or deny anything in either direction. Only a lunatic did not fear demons, but it was not this fear that plagued him: it was the fear of the unknown. When Otsune elected to go left based on the stronger negative feeling emanating from that direction, and weaved in and out of vision beneath the malfunctioning, yellow-orange, overhead lights, Souta generously allowed Atlas to lead the way.

Only a moment later, the shadows came alive. For a split second the darkness itself seemed to writhe; then came the lance. A dimly-glowing, ember-colored spear shot out from the darkness and lodged itself firmly in Atlas' pauldron. Ell and Souta hopped aside as another pair of deadly lances flew toward them. After narrowly missing, the lances retracted into the dark, and the shapes of three creatures became visible. They looked like black-cloaked ghosts, albeit with spindly red arms, a malformed head, and crystal-blue compound eyes. ”Mephistos,” Souta mumbled, as if the others needed his diagnosis. While capable of killing ordinary humans instantly with their extendable fingers, they occupied a relatively low rung on the demonic ladder. What worried Souta was how many there might be—though this worry did not prevent him from taking action.

In his hand, Maelstrom materialized. He took only a moment to aim before firing at the nearest Mephisto, during which Atlas charged. In a shower of sapphire-blue sparks the fused fireblast blew apart the demon's shadowy cloak, leaving the flailing red scorpion beneath. Stooping, Atlas grabbed it by the head before mashing it into the wall, over and over again. In the meantime, Bullion opened fire, his Devil Arm lambasting the tunnel with its muzzle-flashes. Into the second Mephisto the bullets sank, dealing no damage but preventing it from accurately aiming its finger to ventilate the throat of Ell, who now advanced toward it. The Mephisto attempted to swipe her, but her mace rammed into its body and smashed it into the floor, dispelling the cloak. Ell made no movement, patiently waiting the one second before her weapon activated, sending a shockwave of sound through the demon that turned most of it into pulp. By the time Ell picked her mace back up, the last Mephisto lay frozen in a crust of ice pinned to the ceiling, courtesy of Babyfingers. Very casually the operatives passed beneath it, with Souta reaching up to poke it about where its nose ought to be, and Otsune brought up the rear. Wasting little time, she turned partially around and launched from her left helix launcher a single rocket that stuck into the ice. Then she disappeared, allowing the Mephisto just enough time to grow bored before it violently exploded.

The ice shattered, and with it went the cloak of shadows. Yet the Mephisto itself flopped on the floor, not terribly wounded, until the protective cloak regenerated. With this done, it floated after the group, and the tunnel was quiet once more.

-=-=-


Through the Stygian dark of the web of abandoned tunnels meandered clusters of demons, all singlemindedly focused on their task. While a few rogue squads of the more brainless Hideous roamed on their own, those that obeyed their master's commands traveled in either groups of four and two Mephistos, or teams of three and one Hatred to lead them. Upon the neglected concrete their metallic feet clinked like treasure beneath the boots of dragon-hoard robber, but a mortal enamored by the sound of precious metals would find only a swift route to hell, one lined with draconian teeth and wicked blades. Minions loped around haphazardly, ignored by their less bestial comrades. Nevertheless, the dogs of the pit would not hesitate to attack non-demon intruders en masse, making these winding corridors a dangerous guessing game at best and a messy demise at worst.

Ultimately, however, the efforts of the searchers did not concern Gomory overmuch. At first the demoness had been as lost as any of them, even as she cut an imposing figure as she strode, expressionless, flanked on either side by a devilishly stylish Faust. It did not take long, after she began to truly look, for the darkness to give up its own answers. While Gomory brought shadows with her, in the form of the ethereal garb of Mephisto and Faust, she found shadows of an entirely different sort lurking with utmost subtlety where no shadow should have been. Only the most fleeting glimpses availed her, for they vanished so quickly as to convince most anyone of being nothing more than a trick of the eye, but she recognized them for something unnatural. They appeared like smears of dribbled black paint on the floor or walls, and at the top of these smears faintly glimmered single, green-tinged slit eyes. No demon or angel could boast such an eye—that was how Gomory knew she was close.

She did not expect to stumble upon on an old friend. After pushing open a door, she discovered an octagonal room lined with chalk runes, with an altar at the center. Upon the alter, which depicted chains in golden chalk that gleamed even after unknown ages out of the light, lay a still but no less repulsive shape. Five-legged it was, with each cloven hood radiating outward from a single circular body like a grotesque wheel, and at the center of the wheel resided the face of a four-eyed lion. At first, she assumed it to be dead, and advanced toward it with the Fausts gliding behind her. She drew abreast with the monster, recognized it, and gave a short, dry laugh. ”If it isn't the noble professor.”

In reply, the body jerked to life, and the lion snarled at the woman that leaned over it. When a voice issued from its fanged maw, though, a deep and cultured voice rent the air. “Who are you, succubus? I know you not.”

Gomory blinked and sighed, bored. ”Not a succubus, though I am flattered. You wouldn't know me; I'm rather new to the business. I know you though, Buer. Read almost all of your work on natural and moral philosophy. Very insightful. Now that I know that you were the demon who made a contract with Anatole, however, your scholarly reputation seems tarnished, no?” She reached out toward the golden chalk, but did not dare to pass her hand over it. ”And you got captured with mortal witchcraft?”

Every eye rolled at once, and a look oddly reminiscent of remorse flitted across the feline features. “Alas. I had so wanted to leave the books behind and attempt conventional demonic activities. I got excited over the prospect of the contract, and I suspect Anatole took me for the amateur I was. My part of the contract was to meet him here and give him some of my power in exchange for his soul. Unfortunately, he and a lady friend trapped me here in this circle. For a time, I was like a living battery of occult power for him. Now, however, I am merely trapped. Perhaps you can set me free?”

When Gomory heard this, she sneered. ”What a disgrace.” Unmoved by the pitiable demon, she sauntered around the altar and toward the opposite door. Her Fausts followed suit, billowing across the floor like brides on the way to the altar, and Buer pleaded and protested all the while. The door slammed shut, and the chamber returned to silence. Only a few black streaks, peeking from the corners, continued to move, and even then only for a little while.

The steps beyond the door led down. Gomory could feel it: there was not much farther to go.
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