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 No.762858[View All]

"Are we supposing there's a little teapot somewhere in this valley we gotta find?" Hurricanrana says, tilting his head. "Is it perhaps short and stout?"

"No more singing, please," Desert sighs.

"Actually…" Mudi says. "In Tartarus, the will is supreme… It's even true at an Anchor. You saw how people suffered when they used techniques to move great distances without being seen, like the Ecclesian flash step. Oh! And we all had to agree on what we saw before we could even enter the anchor!"

"Oh no…" Desert groans.

"The singing probably helped us get this far!" Mudi extrapolates.

"No, no, no–!" Vizsla complains.

"We gotta sing to find the tea ingredient!!!" Mudi declares.

The Paper Trail shrugs.

"R-right?" Mudi asks, losing all her momentary bravado.


As a unit, with paces in sync despite the disparities in height and length, the Ecclesians move out, following behind the Paper Trail.


"Take it from someone who has spent more time down here than you–" the Witch says. "Anything you hear claim to belong to or be from 'God' is not to be believed. Best not to overuse that word. An Anchor may be safe enough, but in the Abyss – tantamount to suicide. What you encountered was most likely an Umbral who became overmuch obsessed with that thing, and began to hallucinate a theosis."

>Shei and Flaming

"Cursed?" the Witch repeats. "Is that what they're saying?"

She scoffs, then full-on laughs, like it's the only funny thing she's heard all day. She shakes a ratchet at you. "My Craft is in the mechanical arts. I put no curse on any one of them.


"People like them… don't need any curse from anyone. They are curses unto themselves. Curses unto one another… you get me?"

The others ponder this in silence.

She looks at Flow. "But, it is true I got into a dispute with the royals. Must be the genesis of this rumor. Why do you ask?"
613 posts and 4 image replies omitted. Click reply to view.



"We will," Amy responds resolutely to Gadriel.


Amy happily boards a paper airplane. "Come on, this one looks fun," she says to the others enthusiastically.


"Oooh!" Shorthorns grunts, rubbing the top of her head, "Okay, okay! I-I thought it wouldn't matter since he's… well, you know…"

Shorthorns looks on at the many vessels, all made from MOOLAH's enchanted paper, and can't help but be impressed with the designs as she steps onboard the nearest vessel. "Amazing… looking at these ships you'd think they'd fold or crumple immediately, but I know better than to underestimate anything down here."



"That's even worse!" Amy says enigmatically.


Although Observer and Hafaza are rather reluctant to part from one another now, they do so, boarding their own vessels. Flow looks a little skeptical of the paper airplane, being of an aqueous form, but the paper is quite sturdy, and is not weakened in the slightest. Once everybody's aboard their paper vehicle, MOOLAH gives the signal, and one by one they are cleared for departure, pushing off into the Abyss, all in different directions. You notice, as you sail forth, that it takes far longer now for the omnipresent darkness to subsume your thoughts and senses underneath its obliviating weight. Even as the darkness presses in on you, you feel the focused thoughts of your mind persisting, as you concentrate – Asphodel, Asphodel… something about this paper plane must be facilitating this. It's not a stretch to imagine these vehicles to be a valuable resource… perhaps MOOLAH has truly come to see you as a worthy asset to risk the investment of this tech.

But such speculation must wait– for your mission is far from over.



The senses flicker back to life, one by one… yet no Anchor is in sight. All are silent aboard the paper plane, your allies not risking even the slightest word, lest they draw unwanted attention.


Yet something wavers here and there, about you, in the darkness. Like a wave of water, turbulence of a sort, imperceptible to all but the spiritual sense… another wave, then yet another, quicker than the last one. The trajectory of the paper plane wavers. The Paper Trail at the helm plays a delicate balance, keeping parallel to the turbulence as he can, while still trying to move onward… could something be trying to push you away…?


Shorthorns steels herself as they pass through the Anchor, feeling her entire existence threaded through the needle once again. Only this time, when she regains her senses, she looks around, still seeing herself aboard the paper craft as she looks around for signs of their arrival.

"What happened? Are we here already?"

She looks around, her hairs standing on end as she surveys the darkness, feeling the presence here that threatens to lash out at them from beyond their gaze. "You all feel that, right? Is that… the one we came here for?"



Amy sniffs the not-air as if she expects something to happen. She remains absolutely silent for now.

[1d10] to sense the (hopefully) unforgettable sense of Asphodel's magatsuhi

Roll #1 8 = 8


You calm yourselves, and hone your senses and intentions unto Asphodel… and soon enough, a hazy, heat-shimmer mirage forms in your minds, half from imagination, half from that which you sense, out there across the illusory distance of the Abyss. A mountain having taken flight, islands shackled by vertebrae and tissue, a continent swimming through the night…

But four pulses thud out, dull drumbeats that threaten to shred the very drumskin, one-two, one two! Waves of turbulence fractal across your vision, like cracks in shattering glass! Asphodel vanishes into the distance with each one, further and further– and with a final and dreadful crash, an irresistible current yanks your vessel from its course!


The Paper Trail pulls up on the paper plane's controls, narrowly pulling you out of a nose-dive over a hellish battlefield. Armies clash and it's impossible to know how many. There are those armored in the skulls of rams, the horns curled and gnarled, slamming themselves against those in armor resembling bulls, burned brass and skybound horns. All around you, an immolated land fans out, like a painting tossed into a fire. There is so much smoke all about that you can no longer see the Abyss on the horizon. The Paper Trail frantically twists at the controls, dodging air-blasts, catapult stones and bodies flung into the air.

"These armies…" Blessings mutters. "Surely they belong to the would-be Lords!"

"I'll try to sense if any of them are here!" Gadriel yelps.

Busta doesn't chime in, instead focusing on shielding the paper plane with gusts of wind.


Shorthorns looks down on the raging armies below, lost in the sheer scale of the hellish conflict as the war wages beyond her line of sight and the smoke fills the air and threatens to blow them out of the sky.

"I see the loss of the Vestal is already being taken advantage of! These Lords sure didn't hesitate to commence with the fighting now that she's asleep…"

She looks around, preparing to summon flaming ethereal buffalos to act as a shield if needed as she shouts to the Paper Trail, "Look around for a safe spot to weigh anchor! We'd best see if we can find a spot to wait this out or at least get a sense of where our target is!"



Amy can't help but giggle with some excitement. "It's just like the old times," Amy says with some glee. "Just the Saviors on a weird adventure."

"I definitely miss our flying home, though… We should try to find a place to land," Amy agrees with Flaming.

[1d10] to spot a safe place to land

Roll #1 9 = 9


Shrieking sounds arc high overhead like a volley of arrows, and the roar of thunder announces their murderous fall. The thunder-blasts send untold numbers of rubble, soldiers and others into the sky. Time and again, you mistake other sounds for these arcs– the final terrors of the native inhabitants of this Anchor, cut as abrupt as all the others.

"Absolutely not!" Blessings says as you suggest landing, forced to shout simply to be heard over the tumult. "Keep making for Asphodel, we can't get tied up in this!"

Gadriel shudders. "But– but… maybe we should… I think one of them's… here…"

"Which!?" Busta asks.

"I don't recognize them, but they've got power off the charts!" Gadriel shouts.

You see a blasted plateau with a dried lakebed, apparently holding no strategic value, as the armies avoid it. Perhaps there…?



"There's SOMETHING pulling us here," Amy points out. "I don't think Asphodel has much reason to be pushing us away. Which means someone wants us here. Or not there. Either way… we should find out what's up."

Amy sniffs for magatsuhi in the direction of the lakebed.


Roll #1 4 = 4


Shorthorns thinks back to the times she saw armies of angels and demons clashing on the surface world above, from the safety of the Weather Factory that took them all over the land, and Shorthorns can't help but feel a little nostalgic herself.

"Yeah… really does feel like old times. Hope we can do more to stop the fighting now though…"

"I don't even know if we can see Asphodel through all this smoke, can you?! If we stay in the air we'll be shot out of the sky before long. I think we should take our chances over there," she says, pointing to the dried out plateau, "It'll at least let us get our bearings straight and feel out where to go without having to dodge all this!"



"Remember, that's why we're here. This fight… and all fights that demons cause will be stopped when we win. We don't need to stop this fighting now."


Blessings ponders this for but a moment, then nods, ever decisive even now. "Okay. I trust you. Let's go then."

You prod the Paper Trail, and despite its own obvious trepidation about staying here, it flies down to the lakebed as a preferable alternative to being in the sky during all this.

Gadriel's face turns blank. "waitwaitwaIT STOP I CHANGED MY MI–"

As the Paper Trail lands, Gadriel's eyes fix on the source of his anxiety. There are two figures near the rim of the lake, going from tree to tree. They've got tools both primitive and advanced, some you recognize – shovels and picks – and other technologies you don't. One of them appears to be some kind of magitech dowsing rod?

The first figure is very tall and muscular, clad in armor befitting his satyr blood. The other is stout and round, a miserable looking thing, enduring the tall one's beratement and orders.

"Him?" Blessings whispers.

"I… I thought he was further away until just a second ago…" Gadriel mutters in confusion.

"We're all here now," Busta says. "Let's focus. What's the plan?"


She nods her head. "Right… I have my eyes on the prize now. We'll stop all of this insanity at its source."

Shorthorns turns to look at the muscular, grand satyr along the rim of the lake, looking towards Gadriel with a look of confusion. "Him? Should we be worried, who is that?"

As Busta asks what's the plan, Shorthorns breathes a sigh of relief. "We're out of the crossfire and can focus on finding the Serpent. Everyone concentrate and see if we can pick out a source…" she says, trying to get a sense of the great presence she felt before to see if they can find a waypoint towards their goal

[1d10] concentrating on the source of the will they felt poking at them before

Roll #1 2 = 2



Amy stares at the two figures intently. She doesn't recognize them. Or, at least, she doesn't think she does.

"Is that one of those Brothers of Predation?" Amy asks, unsure.

[1d10] to see if there's any memory to be jogged

Roll #1 4 = 4


There's far too much going on right now for you to process all the conflicting chaos and noise.

"Impossible to tell from here," Blessings says. "The Sons of Perdition are said to shapeshift. But, the air around them is extremely uncomfortable. Simultaneously hot and humid, yet frigid, and icy."


As you size up the two creatures, the small one happens to look away from the tall one, following some horrible insult. When the small one looks up again, his eyes fall on you, and he nearly falls backward from surprise. The tall one notices this, then looks at you as well. He has white fur, gray skin, and eyes– something's odd about the eyes. You can't tell quite what color they are, but they are neon.

"Oh, that's handy," the tall one says. "Ah, hello there! You mercenaries? Wouldn't happen to be looking for a job or something would you? Nice reward in it for youuu!"

"We keep running into businessmen down here…" Busta observes.


Shorthorns grumbles as her attempts to focus on Asphodel is disrupted by the two creatures calling from below, but as her attention is drawn to them, she can't help but get an idea.

"Not exactly mercenaries, no," she shouts down below, "But we are in the middle of something we could use some help on, could exchange favors! Are you two locals to this plane by any chance?"



Amy says "Hiiii," and waves her hoof-paw when in a friendly manner when they are noticed. However, when Flaming unexpectedly takes charge of the negotiations, Amy shuts up. Being the one who usually handles this sort of thing, Amy nods and concludes that Flaming is doing a fine job of this.

Instead of taking point as the main negotiator, Amy elects to get some info as the eccentric sidekick.

"My name's Amy Thest, by the way," she says in an 'overly-friendly' tone as she steps forward. She gives the tall satyr a slow, lingering size-up. "Who are you and why don't I know you yet?" she asks in a tone that suggests she's impressed by him.


"Moving on already…?" Gadriel mutters with encroaching despair.
The tall fellow doesn't seem to notice this, and simply slicks back his hair, and makes an impromptu juggling trickshot show of popping a breath mint into his mouth. "The Storm King, at your service," he introduces himself. "Unfortunately I've been far too busy as of late to make times for the treasures of Tartarus such as yourselves, but– there will be plenty of time to make up (and make other things) when I'm the rightful Lord of Limbo once more."

Blessings' eyebrows flick.

"Unfortunately you don't get to my stature without making the most jealous enemies around. One of them has made off with a certain weapon of mine, placed a seal upon it, and even hid it away. I've narrowed it down to somewhere in this neck of the woods – and I even played the armies of Grogar and TIRAC off each other to do the big weeding for me. Think you could help us track it down? I've got cash, credit– or an IOU from the returning Lord of Limbo himself."


Shorthorn gives a weird look at Amy as she appears to flirt with the Storm King, and an even more perturbed one as the Storm King flirts back, but the small white buffalo rolls her eyes and shrugs it off as she focuses more on the task at hand. Knowing the Storm King is one of the many Lords of Limbo vying for the top spot

"So that was your handiwork?" She says, looking on at the distance with the warring forces of Grogar and TIRAC going head to head. "Well, we could help you track it down - we're actually looking for something in this realm as well. We seek the Serpent, Asphodel. We were trying to sail to him on this vessel but now with all this fighting going on, we can't focus on anything at all above all the violence. Would you happen to have a direction you could help point us in?"



"Oh… wow…" Amy says with a small giggle as she's genuinely taken off guard by the Storm King's flirting skills. Then she realizes who she's talking to. She bops herself on the head with her hoof-beans.

"Oh! You're THE Storm King!?" she says, laughing at her own ignorance. "Wow, I guess I just have naturally good taste."


"Do you know what pulled us here, or was it just your magnetic charm?" she adds with a wink.

>[1d10] to draw info out of the Storm King


Roll #1 4 = 4


"Well I can't deny that I always get what I want, and I am quite good at helping others get what they want too. Our interests, clearly, are mutual."

That's key… exaggerated or not, he had a large role in pulling you here to this Anchor, away from Asphodel.

"Asphodel?" the Storm King repeats. "You're not going to find him around here. Too much distortion from all the clashing wills of the armies. TIRAC and Grogar aren't here, but they've exerted so much force on their underlings that they transmit their Lords' will with them. But anyway, how about this: when I get my weapon back and unsealed, I'll help you push on from here and escape toward Asphodel. And I will throw in this too: for every one of my competitors I cut down to size, I'll give you all another hand in your own endeavors."

Busta, Blessings and Gadriel share skeptical glances over these ambiguous terms…



"Actually," Amy says, stepping closer to the Storm King with a flirtatious smile. "I'm going to be honest with you because I like you. The others probably don't want me saying this," she gives the rest of the party a glance over her shoulder.

"But, we're just trying to get Asphodel and the Sons of Perdition to kill each other. We're not even out to get anyone to win this war. Asphodel and the Sons are just scary. We figure that this chaos is the perfect time to kill two birds with… two the same two birds. Tartarus will be better off without them."

"So yeah, our goals align… like a lot. So, helping us helps you… A LOT. So, let's skip the whole 'favor for a favor' thing and just get down to helping each other? Surely the big, strong Storm King doesn't NEED his weapon to get us where we need to go to find the Sons and Asphodel?"

Amy gives the Storm King puppy-dog eyes.

>[1d10+4] Mantra of Equality


Roll #1 8 + 4 = 12


The Storm King leans back. "Ah. Nope, I just can't agree to those terms, not even for eyes as beautiful as yours."


"If we're going by your concerns, everyone in Limbo is better off with this weapon back where someone can keep an eye on the thing. Having it fall into the wrong hands – or have it be in no hands at all for too long – is a lot worse than the Sons of Perdition running around, or if Asphodel gets an appetite."

An absolute rejection of your will… just how strong is this guy? He doesn't look that strong…


Shorthorns thinks over the Storm King's offer… while they're in this battlefield, it's difficult to find their way out any which way, much less to Asphodel. In which case, forming an alliance with the Storm King - a temporary one at least, seems most beneficial.

As Amy is upfront with their end-goal in making the various factions fight - and not entirely not out alignment of the Storm King's own goals, at that - Shorthorns thinks she can work with this angle, and nods as she goes along with Amy.

"Amy's right! I mean, surely a big… uh, STRONG… big guy like you could help us find our way to them, so we can get them off of your own back, right?"

[1d10] Shorthorns tries her own puppy-dog eyes as she winks at the Storm King

Roll #1 2 = 2



Amy pouts. "Fine," she says, sounding dejected.

"Hey, maybe once you have your weapon back, you'll see your well to helping us pit Asphodel and the Sons against each other?" she asks with a hopeful tone.

>[1d10] for some manipulation


Roll #1 6 = 6


Shorthorns pouts in response to her feminine wiles once again proving fruitless. She whispers to Amy, "Why that does it only seem to ever work when you try that and not me?"

As the Storm King pushes his own deal again, Shorthorn tuts, "Well, it sounds like we can't get going where we're going until TIRAC and Grogar's armies finish their battle here in any case… so I suppose it only the only way forward is to help you find your weapon so you can resolve this conflict."

"Going by that, am I to take it if we help you take down TIRAC and Grogar, you'd help us take on Asphodel directly?"


"Mmm, I'll see what I can pen into my schedule," the Storm King says. "I'm usually booked out through the week but if you all can find my weapon, I'll have my secretary work his magic."

The ugly little hedgehog next to the Storm King shudders in dread.

"What is this weapon we're meant to find…?" Busta asks. "You haven't described it."

"Oh– you'll know when you see it, believe me," the Storm King says. "Here."

He pulls a shovel from his pack and hands it to Busta. The hedgehog gives out extras for those who want them.

"It's in this area," the Storm King continues, sounding certain. "If he knows what's good for him, my source will have provided me the proper intel. Check the holes around here for a guide on how deep to dig."


Shorthorns takes a shovel from the little hedgehog like creature, turning to look up at Storm King. "It's buried?"

"Any magical traps or enchantments to worry about, or is it just really hard to find?"



Amy smiles at the dejected Flaming. "What's the matter, Shortyhorns? I thought you LIKE not being cute," she says before sticking out her tongue.


"Oh, you came to the right cute wolf-pony-thing," Amy declares when she's told it's time to find a thing in a potentially arbitrary location.

Amy starts sniffing the ground in an ever-widening circle pattern until she's found a spot she's confident in.

>[1d10] to 360 no-scope

Roll #1 6 = 6


>For both
"Well if it *is* trapped just holler in pain or alarm or some combination of the two and I'll swoop in to your rescue."

With a wave, the Storm King heads to the southeastern bend of the lake, leaving you to it. You see that the northeastern area is fairly well-dug already, with holes about one-and-a-half times the length of the shovel in depth. Just deep enough to make climbing in and out of the hole inconvenient… doubly so, for when you are in the hole, you must soon climb out, unable to enter a proper flow state of digging.

Now, dear reader, one might be inclined to try the northwestern area, for it has not been dug at all so far. But, Amy's senses suggest she should go back to the northeastern bend of the lake and dig further, and so she leads her allies that way, among a precarious route of holes and trees and bushes and uneven, rock-strewn ground. Still trusting her instincts, your allies follow along.


Shorthorns puffs her cheeks in annoyance, "I do like not being cute, but I hate it more when I WANT to be cute and no one thinks I'm cute! I can be cute if I want to be!"

Shorthorns, knowing better than to discount Amy's impeccable sense of smell and direction so far, follows her to the southeastern bend, shovel in hoof as she walks along and starts to look for a place to dig.

[1d10] Digging a hole using the shovel, not her powers (yet)

As she digs, she whispers to Amy, out of earshot, "Okay, just so we're on the same page… we don't trust this guy, right?"

Roll #1 3 = 3



Amy shrugs. "I trust everyone until they give me a reason not to."


"You'll always be cute to me," Amy says as she tossles Flaming's mane (or lack there-of). "But, you're not the same kind of cute as me."

"That's… not necessarily a bad thing," she says as she looks off into the distance as if she's having some sort of flashback.


Amy's nose knows the way. She looks around at the holes already dug. She ponders to herself (and fate itself) if maybe someone just didn't dig deep enough.


Attribute: Buff
Tags: Spell
Effect: Roll for a Hint from those who have been a situation such as yours before.
Duration: N/A
Recharge: 1

Roll #1 6 + 2 = 8


Your allies spread out in a very little radius, unwilling to risk an ambush or other trap for the sake of this sketchy Storm King fellow. They find what few spots there are left to dig, and set about giving test pokes to the ground with their shovels.

Amy senses that this endeavor could take all day, building up exhaustion, sweat, grime, and a lack of care for one's physical appearance in the effort required to dig a hole. But if that industrious, hardscrabble approach is taken, you'll never find it at all.

For this weapon is for someone unnamed, yet very specific. Even if you dug up its exact location, you'd never see it, should you not be the one for whom it is meant.

Now is not the time to dig, unless it be in the pursuit of aesthetics. To find it, Amy can sense, you will need to achieve a moment of perfect beauty in the very act of searching for this weapon.


Shorthorns looks at Amy pensively as she looks off into the distance, taking a moment to let her think. "It's… silly, I know, but ever since I started… well, getting to know Great Journey… I kind of don't mind being called *that* kind of cute, I guess. Or at least, I'd like to know he thinks that about me. With you it seems to come so naturally, I'm a little jealous sometimes."

She nods. "Fair, I guess…I'm a little more skeptical. I mean, our end goal is trying to take ALL of these competitors down one way or another anyways, right? Shouldn't we be prepared for if we have to make sure he doesn't get the leg up on the others he wants?"



"I don't think Great Journey wants the kind of cute that I am. He definitely seems to prefer your brand of cute. And, that definitely seems to come naturally to you," she adds with a smile.

"It definitely wasn't always natural to me… Either of me. Even WITH all of my demon memories back, I still can't remember all the way back to the - I don't know what to call it - beginning of me? 2000 years of Tartarus will do that to you. But, Undefileds are feared and respected in Tartarus. If you haven't died, you're good at SOMETHING. I don't remember if I was actually Undefiled or not, but you can tell an undefiled by how good they look. Every time you die, you get a little more… wrong. So, if you haven't died, you still look good."

"I don't remember when exactly I picked up on the fact that I could use my looks to trick people into respecting me. But, I've had thousands of years of practice."

"But, I think it's the Amy in me more than any of that that makes me so good at it. As Amy, I had no one. I was a mortal kid alone in the world. I had to learn real fast how to manipulate people into giving me stuff. And, when I got older, I learned more tricks. It… wasn't great. I'm not proud of it. But, it's a funny coincidence that pretty and cute are even more attractive on a nice person."


"Or he could help us," Amy suggests.


Amy squints as this realization comes to her. "We're never go to see it like this… We need to get… creative…" she says to everyone.


Blessings scoffs, and knocks some mud off the end of her shovel. "Don't tell me you're already tired of this."

"Well I am…" Gadriel complains.

"What's the plan?" Busta asks, as prepared as ever, and yet also tired of digging extremely inconvenient holes.

Yet for the one who hid this weapon, that inconvenience was their very goal.


Shorthorns chuckles, "Well, while we're being honest, I actually kind of thought that was a great trick. Using your looks to get what you want, it's so… not buffalo, so indirect, it doesn't come naturally to us. But it's an impressive skill all the same. Plus, just knowing someone thinks you look pretty… I hadn't really thought much of it before, but that was before I cared about looking pretty for someone. Now, I'm more jealous than ever."

"But, you think Journey doesn't want me to be the same kind of pretty that you are?"

Shorthorns grumbles well into the first few holes. She isn't going to use her powers over Dark Sphere to move the earth, not yet - she wants to keep as many aces up her sleeve as possible for Storm King just in case, but as Amy declares they need to think creatively, she turns her head.

"Creatively? How so?" She looks around. "If anyone has any big attacks, I guess we could blow this whole area away in one go but I'd worry about damaging the thing we're looking for."



"WELL THAT'S TOO DAMN BAD," Amy suddenly shouts at Gadriel when he declares he's tired of this.

After a pause, she says, "I'm sorry. I'm not really sure what came over me there. It just felt… right."


"Trust me, it's not always a good thing for people to think you're pretty… Especially demons."

"But, I KNOW that Journey thinks you're pretty! He's got a buffalo heart like you! He thinks all the big strong stuff IS pretty!"

Then, she smiles. "But, you're in luck. If you wanna look and feel pretty, I can help with that. Doing something beautiful in a buffalo way is exactly what we need right now!"


"I can't really explain it, but I just know that if we want to find this treasure, we're going to have to do something big. And, it's going to have to be beautiful."


Gadriel looks down as you shout at him. Small tears drop into the grass beneath him. Blessings puts aside her shovel and pats him on the back, giving you a shocked and confused look.

Busta pushes onwards. "Beauty… hmm, it's one of those types of puzzles, is it? Okay, how do we, uh… be-autiful? I am a fly demon, not a bee demon."

"I think I have some spare makeup with me…" Blessings offers as she comforts Gadriel.


Shorthorns' eyes widen as Amy suggests what they need is something beautiful in a big, powerful buffalo fashion right now.

"I can definitely do big! I guess I'd call it 'beautiful' too but, that's a little more subjective I guess… but I'm gonna give it a try all the same!"

"I have my Retribution of the Dragon, it's definitely big and flashy. If you all pile on your attacks at me all at once, I can release it all back combined with some of my own in one big move. Think THAT will work?"



"No, no, no," Amy says as she realizes she really hurt Gadriel's feelings. "It was a joke! I didn't mean it! I'm sorry!"


"Observer, weren't you, like, supposed to be discovering the true meaning of beauty or something?"


"That sounds awesome! And, what's more beautiful than cool stuff that gets you what you want!?"


"I already discovered true beauty in Hafaza, but you summoned me here without her," Observer retorts, much to Flow's amusement.

As Gadriel calms down, Blessings and Busta get to thinking. "Well…" Busta says. "As long as you can direct your counterattack away from us, it should be fine."
"And don't attract attention from the battlefield below!" Blessings cautions.


Shorthorns nods, taking a deep breath in preparation. "I can direct it however I want… I don't know if it WON'T get the attention of the armies, but that's just gonna have to be the risk we take if we go big in any case."

"I'll aim it towards this whole area and sweep it clean in one big charge. Just everyone get out of the way once I'm ready to unleash it."

Shorthorns closes her eyes, and summons a white, fiery aura that begins to coat her like her bleached fur were suddenly lit aflame

>Ultimate Move: Retribution of the Dragon: Spell, Recharge 4 after effect triggers; After three turns, for every attack that has hit Flaming, combine the total amount of damage dealt by each enemy's attack. This total is released towards a single enemy, or split evenly between multiple foes. (IE, 10 hits to 1 enemy, or 2 hits to 5). Critfails don’t count toward the charge of this spell.

[1d10+1] Activation

Roll #1 9 + 1 = 10



"And, is there anything that you've learned from her that you can apply here?" Amy retorts to Observer.


"Alright, does anyone have anything we can use to like… contain the damage we do? Mirry is right, I'd like it if we didn't attract the attention of the demons fighting."


"Mirry?" Blessings repeats. "…Probably wouldn't be wise to call me that in front of Chorazin."
Flow shakes his head. "She was cracking jokes about the ordeal soon after she recovered."

"That pink, indigo and violet are the greatest of color combinations," Observer says. "Shorthorned, do see if you can make your counterattack share that color scheme."

The others, seeing Flaming charing up her defensive power, arm themselves, albeit a little reluctantly. Only once Shorthorned gives them the final go-ahead will they launch their attacks, cutting, blasting and bashing away at her defensive aura to build up the power she needs for an elaborate and colorful display of wondrous lights and strength!


"Huh… I never actually thought about changing the colors before, but I think I can do that! Our clan's shaman used to throw different sorts of rocks into the fire to make different colors come out, so if she could do it, so can I…"

She braces against the oncoming waves of attacks from her allies, feeling the pain and damage build up as her sturdy, godly body takes the worst beating it's taken since arriving in Tartarus. But she holds fast, steadying her stance and letting their magic and powerful blows flow into her her like fuel onto a raging inferno. Until, at last, once her move has hit its limit, she lets out a deafening war cry as she releases all the pent up flames and power in her small form out like a cannon, a massive dragon of pink, white, and violet flames that looks remarkably like Spark shoot up and light up the lake with its grandeur. The dragon swoops down into the dirt field littered with holes, a massive blast burning away all the earth until nothing but a smoking crater will be left in its wake!

"Everyone, moooooooooooooove!!!"



Amy laughs. "Okay, fine. I'll admit, that was not one of my better nicknames."


Then, they get down to business. Amy, for her part, goes full wolf form and blasts Flaming with holy fire Wrath.

When Flaming says it's time to move, Amy runs behind Flaming like a kid who just lit a firework.


Everybody scatters and scrambles as the dark rainbow light show comes down to its explosive conclusion. The shockwave sends your allies tumbling ass over teakettle, but much like Shorthorned, they've toughened up enough (not emotionally) that they're able to roll with the fall, and pick themselves up without major injuries. Dust and smoke fill the air, and as you wait for it to pass, everyone cleans and dresses the damage Shorthorned took by way of thanking her.

When all is clear…

There floats before you a shape.

You've heard it described as a weapon.

One of the most common weapons is the sword.

So it is… that a sword floats before you. The tattered remains of a wooden storage box and oiled cloth drift away in the breeze.

The sword… looks rather ordinary at first glance. Straightsword, not too long nor too short. Rather utilitarian at first glance, but not something a Lord of Limbo might want as his signature weapon…

Your allies approach with caution. As you do, you see more of the sword. The details fill in – as if remembering they should be there.

A golden jewel sits in the pommel of the sword. And an inscription runs down the length of the blade. Amy remains illiterate. But Shorthorned, with her recent gift from Shei, can decipher this peculiar script. The inscription reads–


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