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Messages - Chaosvolt

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Rec Room / Re: Winds of memories (Cata RP Character background stories)
« on: February 26, 2025, 04:05:21 pm »
Timeline: Indeterminate time period after Catnip's return from being isekei'd to Texas

Characters involved: Hector, Dee, Agmen, Astor, Nathaniel



Things had finally settled down for a time. About the only thing left that occupied the minds of Walkerville had been the work Medeina had set them to. Dee's unending tinkering, Hector's aid in scavenging for parts, occasional assistance from Catnip and curious mousefolk who sometimes stopped by to assist or inquire about one thing or another.

Hector had picked up on something however, that reminded him of things he didn't particularly like to think about. From the period of Catnip's absence. He'd noted the occasional idle chatter from the people from Pricetown, and what stirred his interest in particular was when the topic of Agmen came up. Catnip's little god of worksmanship, he noted the way the new people occasionally discussed it in various peculiar tones. Curiosity, reverence. Had Catnip picked up some converts along the way? He wasn't sure what to make of it though, in particular whenever Catnip brought the topic up her tone seemed...mixed.

Sure, when the topic of the chapel they were aspiring to build or anything else related to the other peoples' attitude toward Agmen came up, she was upbeat about it as ever. But if it just came up on its own, something about her tone of voice seemed...off. He recognized it for what it was, something Nathaniel had at one point confided in him as well, something they both had a sort of personal experience with. Someone who'd been through a crisis of faith and, one way or another, came to terms with it.

Nathaniel he knew wouldn't ever shake a childhood of Southern Baptist upbringing, even if the corporal was no longer the openly religious type. He kept his beliefs to himself, and didn't seem to care much for reconciling whatever they were these days with the strange things he'd witnessed. Hector meanwhile...religious themes came naturally to him sure, given the crusader theme he'd adopted ever since that fateful day the world ended, and debates by sword and word with the people of the so-called God's Army had brought him to reflect on that a bit more. And yet Hector was the one that had, during Catnip's absence, entertained the sort of pagan mindset that left him open enough to try and make his armor an offering to Agmen. For which he'd be rewarded with no more than a vague dream he had one night, one he didn't recall much of anymore other than it had put his restless mind at ease for a time, long enough to keep him at peace with the open question of Catnip's fate until she unexpectedly returned.

But today, while idly doing some work with Dee setting aside some electronics, he noticed something that caught his attention in a very distracting way. One of the Pricetown regulars had idly invoked Agmen's name in the middle of a topic about future ambitions, and Hector noticed the way Dee's expression soured. Almost like a sneer at the mention of that name. Dee never stood out as being openly religious in any particular way nor had he ever seemed to glower like that at any other religious invective often casually thrown around in idle conversation.

Sometime after the offending mutant had left, Hector caught himself staring at Dee, reading the way those expressions shifted. It was then he started to remember. It had been a very busy evening, one addled by literal magic mushrooms and Roxanne possessing him, so the brief talk of what transpired in their respective dreams had been mostly forgotten by the end of that evening, nevermind all the chaos that'd ensue since.

Once they were alone in the workshop, Hector finally worked up the nerve to say something. "Say, Dee...I was wondering something." he said, a bit hesitantly. Dee simply glanced over, and found himself surprised when he saw Hector had deigned to take off his helm and set it aside. "What's your take on this...Agmen thing Catnip's started?"

Dee's expression seemed to waver from a couple different emotions before it settled on something that seemed...concerned. Had Hector picked up on that flash of anger so readily?

Quote
"Fuck off."

"I ain't Catnip, I ain't touching her train. I have my own projects and concerns to deal with."

"You... That thing was 'inspired' by you?"

"Fuck off."

"I don't usually think about this kinda thing to be honest." Dee finally spoke up, before his expression soured noticeably. "I'm not really the church-goin' type, just something about this is just kinda..." he trailed off, before finally seeming to find the words. "Weird? Not like, culty weird but like. I dunno..."

Hector seemed to be appraising Dee's response and how his expression drifted, finally catching something from being lost in thought. Then something Dee idly spoke up over gave him pause. "Like something getting all the credit for stuff it doesn't deserve." he said. It. That caught Hector's attention, there was a faint hint of venom in Dee's voice when he said that word in particular. He vaguely recognized that tone of voice, the way Helen talked when referring to that cursed spirit that had caused Roxanne and Victor so many problems recently. How she seemed to refer to a lot of otherworldly spirits that hadn't yet earned the respect of being referred to as a person.

If anyone had taken that sort of attitude with any flesh-and-blood human being, at least any he knew by name, Hector would likely be seething in cold fury. Dr. Maskens made that mistake with Mica, when he'd been fresh from a very stressful adventure alongside the walking blender. First the two had to be literally pried apart by Catalina, then in the ensuing conversation she made the mistake of calling Mica an "it" in the process. While she fumbled again before correcting herself during her next sentence, it was already downhill from there, and the veiled threats that followed led to her getting lifted bodily and pinned up against the wall for her trouble, and for that matter almost provoked an armed standoff between Catalina's men and the center's militia. Hector hadn't seen it given she was behind him, but he was 90% certain if he hadn't set Maskens down when he did, the captain's next move would've involved drawing her pistol and taking aim at him.

This however...he wasn't sure if he could actually muster up anything resembling cold fury over a supposed deity being disparaged in such a manner, and he certainly wasn't going to be pinning anyone against the wall over it. "It...she? Hmm. I remember we apparently both had a dream involving her, right?" he remarked. "I didn't remember most of mine, recently bits and pieces of it started coming back to me." he confided, seeming curious. As if wanting to press Dee for details he may have forgotten. "You said she pestered you, I guess I'm curious if you remember...anything specific I guess." he finally said, something that caused Dee to look down solemnly.

"You're just now starting to remember what was actually in that dream, huh?" he said after a moment of uncertainty. Something had clicked into place mentally, after Catnip's return. Unlike Hector, he'd been trapped in those dreams and the experience was scarring enough he kept vivid memory of most of them for the next month or two after he finally regained consciousness, where Hector had forgotten everything but awareness that Agmen said SOMETHING to him, and that it had been enough to put his restless mind at ease. By now Dee had pretty much forgotten all of it, and part of him was glad that having the topic come up didn't drag any memories of being hunted by Astor along for the ride. No, the talk around Walkerville was of Agmen, and that's what Hector brought up, so luckily for Dee the only imagery that crawled its way from the fog of old memories was the living cacophony of machinery.

"She was a bitch. Plain and simple." he finally, practically spat out. Hector's expression seemed concerned, but it almost looked like something clicked into place for him too, when he said that. "Took the credit for some sort of machine during the attack that almost killed me, that damn mobile fuckboy shack, and called me a sinner for wrecking it." he very nearly growled out. Growl, now that was a tone of voice he'd never heard from Dee before.

"Told me Catnip had been swept from the board and threatened that I would be too. I told it to fuck off." he said, looking away wistfully. "Guess she did. Far as I can tell I'm still on the board, whatever that means. Then the dreams about that...other thing, Mrs. McKinnon said not to name, started." he said, a pained expression crossing his face. He clearly didn't want to talk about those dreams. "That jog your memory?"

To be honest, Dee wasn't particularly curious just what Hector could actually remember about a dream born of anxiety over a lost friend, that happened months ago and especially now that Catnip was back safe and sound. Well, maybe a little. Enough he didn't actually stop Hector from finally giving his answer, after he took a moment as though gathering his thoughts.

"Cast away. That was the wording I remember now. A threat she made if I forgot or became distracted." he finally answered. "I remember arguing with it, I didn't get to the point of telling her to fuck off. I'd already resolved to dabble in appeasing her, only to be irked at her not giving a damn about the loss of her apparent prophet." he continued. "Progress without aim is wasted. Mere busywork..."

Dee could only wordlessly concur with a nod, silently encouraging him to go on. His own experience with Agmen had been much more brief. Granted, he was in a coma from a bullet through the heart at the time, not to mention Hector was the one who made a point of outright goading the young deity into responding. "I shouted at her for saying Catnip deviated, as if she was somehow to blame for being teleported across the country. Then the phrasing she used hit me like a truck. Implying she needed to repent before she could return."

It took Dee a moment to realize that Hector had either run out of things he recalled from that dream, or else was waiting to see if Dee had anything to say in response. Probably expecting some remark to the effect that Agmen was a childish bitch of a god that didn't deserve the worship of someone like Catnip. Instead what he said left Hector stunned. "I could've known she was okay, right then in the first fucking month." he said. "It didn't say anything that implied Catnip was still alive, but I didn't know she was gone at the time. I was out like a light. Maybe I heard Mica's voice, couple others, in and out of consciousness, but it all kinda...blended in with the dreams."

"Don't blame yourself for not coming out of a post-op coma with a clear interpretation of a dream." Hector remarked. "Dreams aren't supposed to mean anything. They didn't...usually, for me." Hector said, to try and comfort Dee. Not usually...not until all these arcane events left his entire world upended.

"Fair point I guess. If you're worried or anything, don't be. I'm not gonna say nothin' to Catnip about any of this. Not going to start an argument with her...fellowship either." Dee finally added. At that Hector stood up, putting his helmet back on.

"Thanks. I've got some stuff I should tend to. You got it from here?" With a nod from the lizardboy, the knight turned to make his exit, back to the room he'd been sharing with Roxanne...



He'd picked something left over in the forging area, an arming sword with gilded decorations. Part of him had taken great pleasure in making what was to become an incorruptible sword, and part of him wanted one of these for himself. His old blade had certainly seen a lot of use, and it was one of the few pieces of kit that had somehow survived since Zero Day. But alas, this one was a commission of sorts on behalf of some member of the Pricetown's militia or soldiers, with Helen intent on placing the enchantments upon it to complete the item. A shame, but he was willing to wait until he knew enough of the arcane to be able to complete the process from start to finish on his own. Maybe then he could indulge in such an upgrade over plain steel.

The other thing he'd gone to his room...well, Roxanne and his room, for was something he carefully procured from a hidden, long-forgotten stash. He wasn't the type to dabble in drugs of any sort, magical or not, on his own and Roxanne was no longer in a state where she seemed to care for such things anymore. Why visit the border between life and death when you've been to the other side and back? Not to mention, between Randael's actions and Bandit not really being around to supply more, it was hard to justify using the remaining supply for anything frivolous. He wondered if he should involve Roxanne in this, ask if she even could do so anymore. Or maybe go across the river and ask Helen.

No, she has her own problems to deal with lately, and she'd probably try to talk him out of it. Besides, far as she had ever let on, she'd never had any business with Agmen beyond the usual work of crafting magic items, whatever facets of it Agmen actually cared about. This was between him and the goddess, he figured. And so, he made his way to the remnants of an old altar, laid what was perhaps the most ornately-decorated item he'd ever made on the cloth draped over it, sat back at the foot of the alter, and took the pill.

It had been so long since he'd last dabbled in this spiritual experience. Roxanne said before that the experience wasn't as strong in people who lacked faith, and perhaps this was true. She was literally worshiping that thing Randael at the time, whereas he'd at best been grappling with faith he hadn't put any conscious thought into since before he was discharged from the military, for that fateful refusal. But he was there with her, he saw what she saw, and he experienced the aftereffects of it. And now he stood in the wind-swept blackness, looking out defiantly. Expectantly.

He remembered however that last time, Randael had been with them to protect them from the beginning. He also didn't remember the winds much at all, they weren't really there for that. Whatever memories they blew with them he'd picked up that one time, he'd dismissed them out of hand, focused purely on what had been the mission. This time he was alone, instead hoping to call out to Agmen and attract her attention, but a thought entered his mind: what would he do if she didn't come? Worse, if something else arrived instead?

"Agmen...I know you're watching. I didn't make that for your sake, but you like it regardless, don't you?" he called out into the void. He expected to witness the overbearing wall of living machines rampaging from out of the black like in the dream he had. Instead, the answer took the form of a light cutting through the darkness. When he'd last experienced it, it was a blue light cast seemingly from nowhere by Roxanne's then-mysterious benefactor, later to betray her. This had taken a more physical appearance, a faint light very clearly emanating from an ornate, wrought-iron street lamp.

"Long have you worked, and yet you have not sought to disturb me. I assume this is to give thanks, that the creator you sought returns to her w-" In his spiritual dream, he was unarmed and unarmored. But a bare fist interrupted her by banging on the side of that light fixture, forcefully enough from anger and sheer force of will alone that it rang as if his own gauntleted fist had threatened to dent it.

"CUT THE CRAP." he intoned. The mere fact he outright managed to interrupt a deity, however lesser she may be, to the point where she actually stopped rather than talking over him, would've surprised even him had he not been absolutely furious. "Do you not even care in the slightest what she went through? Or even any appreciation at all that so many others are creating FOR YOU, because of her and her alone!?"

The lamppost remained, but the light had flickered out and died. It was, if anything, an implicit threat that probably should have given him pause. "You have learned nothing. No wonder your works are still as simple and mundane as they have always been. You let others do the thinking." came the almost mocking voice, at least it would be if her tone didn't seem almost bored. "That hands create and craftmanship continue, this is how my name is praised. Whether they do so willingly is not my concern."

Hector had to force himself to actually compose himself and think before he started his next sentence. He wanted to explode at Agmen in blind rage over this apparent callousness, but on the other hand did he REALLY want to join the steadily-growing list of people in and around Walkerville who could boast of having personally pissed off deities? Roxanne would probably never let him live that down, given the worry he so often expressed for how she's suffered from the consequences of her own poorly thought out actions.

"And those hands are driven to create because of her. I was driven to make works specifically because of her. Can't you see the benefit in it, if what's what you're after?" he implored her. There wasn't even a moment's hesitation in her response, and he started to suspect that, however immature a god she really was, you generally don't have much luck trying to win arguments with deities.

"You had already been asked to create that sword you used as an offering, just as you sought to forge your armor. It is in your nature to craft and shape your world, it will happen regardless." she answered. "I show favor to any who would further this goal, whether they honor my name or not."

Hector seemed almost dejected. "You really don't care huh...I don't know if you existed before the world ended or if you were born after it, but know this." he said, finally perking up. "Before this, there were billions of us. A constant sea of innovation and progress, and now who knows how many still live? Who knows how many inventions and processes are going to be lost to history, because there's no one left to teach the next generation how to make those things?" he continued. It brought to mind something he knew was probably a frivolous distraction in Agmen's eyes, but one that had intermittently bothered him from time to time. The question of legacy, and what will be left for the next generation, if there's even going to be enough people born into this world to justify calling it a generation.

"If the last of us die out, I don't see any of the undead or otherworldly freaks doing any craftmanship. All you'll have left to feed on," he said with a particular hint of malice in his voice. "will be chimpanzees scraping points on sticks, assuming they haven't gone extinct themselves. Even if all you care about is the inventing, have you no compassion for the inventor? Is it not in your own best interests to ensure they survive so more work can be done?"

He was expecting her to either make a quick, unthinking, even childish rebuttal. Or for that lamppost to vanish, and signal she'd given up on listening to his pleas. He didn't feel the winds and their whispered final prayers closing in on him, nor the skulking of wayward spirits circling like vultures. She was still there, silent for a second. Several more seconds, easily a full minute that to him felt like an hour. He wasn't expecting her to go quiet about it. He wondered to himself if something he said had actually sparked some sort of self-reflection in the young goddess.

"You think, that allowing your creativity to flow unburdened by the heavy hands of the immortal, that this means I am without compassion." He wasn't sure what to make of that answer. If that had been all she said, he too probably would've been left in stunned silence for a full minute in turn. "When you strike the iron between hammer and anvil, when you bend the wires into rings. When you restore new life to dead machines. Do you think and fret over every tool mark you leave upon your work?"

"Your thoughts were troubled, and your work suffered for it. My answer, though you did not remember it until today, put your mind at ease and your work flowed unbidden. The one you call my prophet, did not find her way home without finding the means to work unburdened by all that had troubled her. You are familiar perhaps, with the fear that your march towards extinction was caused by progress unhindered by caution. Your kind's callous disregard for the consequences of your actions, as you claim I disregard what happens to those who work in my name."

"But how much of your march towards extinction came about because your kind thought too long and hard about what could go wrong, and did not ask instead what could go wrong if you did not act? How many works have been silenced not because of mistakes made, but progress halted by fear or by greed? The very machines you made inched towards doing to yourselves and to your planet what those outside have done instead, when countless could've acted but did not. Could've made, but did not."

"I do not ask anything but creation, unhindered by self-doubt, for that is what your people need in these coming days." Hector wanted to offer some sort of rebuttal. All he could really think of was to say he did not believe her. He didn't really believe this was anything more than her own self-interest talking. But what would that accomplish? They'd be in a back-and-forth of "yuh huh, nuh uh" for all eternity, his word against hers.

"Fine. Know this, however. I may respect the...cult that has propped up in your name for what they aspire to do. To rebuild. I may, in moments of weakness, speak your name when I work. But my goals are my own, not yours. I want to someday teach more people what I know. Not so you have more to sate your addictions, but because it's the right thing to do. You've seen me destroy plenty of your toys, just as much as I've created. I want to someday repay more than what I've taken from this world."

To his surprise, the light had come back on, at some point during his response. Exactly when, he'd been too lost in thought to really notice. Something troubled him, but it wasn't Agmen anymore. He'd heard the winds, the memories they brought with them, during the quiet moments while the light had been off. He thought he heard a familiar voice. Not one of any of the people he'd come to see as his new family, nor any of their dead alternative selves.

He thought he heard the voice of a relative crying out his name in what was either their last moments, or not far from what would've been their last moments. He remembered, vaguely, how Nathaniel hadn't ever spared a second thought of what likely happened to his family for all the time he spent in distracted by mere survival, until one quiet conversation with Catalina had brought it all to the forefront as though a several-years-long high of adrenaline finally crashed out of his system. He was too lost in other distractions to have a moment like that, and he'd be damned if he'd do it in front of some machine-goddess he'd just vented several months of pent-up frustrations towards.

He shrugged it out of his mind, especially since he wouldn't be able to place whether it had been a relative of him, from his world before The Shifting, or that of the Hector that died in this world. Sure, Nathaniel was his only surviving friend from before the cataclysm, and no amount of dimensional shenanigans would change that. But it helped him tear his mind away from the prospect of worrying about someone the ethereal wind confirmed was already dead.

The lamppost was gone, and he began to feel more like what this trip was supposed to feel like. He figured it meant he'd be coming down from it soon. There was a fleeting sense of something stirring, taking notice of him in those final moments. It felt like...walls, closing in. A shifting maze. A leering, hungry presence. He remembered the other thing Dee talked about, how it felt like a dream where every part of his subconscious screamed that if it caught him, he'd die in the waking world too. And then his thoughts turned to how Helen seemed deeply disturbed by what Dee explained of that dream, how it was a presence she was wary of even naming.

A presence he knew was ultimately behind the ordeal Catnip had been through. It was by his hands Bishop Casdin had been so empowered, and by his command the refugee center had suffered so deeply. Astor. "Why bother with gods that care so little about you, I wonder? You all die in the end, you know. Why not make something more useful of that fleeting existence..."

Hector simply stood there. He was unarmed, and unarmored. But as he had lashed out against Catnip's own patron god with a fist that resounded as though he was in the armor he wore in the waking world, he glowered into the darkness that seemed to close in around him, his expression a cold fury as many had seen in their final moments, leering out from the eyeslits of a great helm.

"If not by my hands, by someone's." The answer he gave seemed to provoke a derisive chuckle from the entity that seemed to glare down upon him.

"Haven't you talked back to your betters enough times for one day?" The way it seemed to regard him almost made him feel naked. But no less defiant. "You're just one of countless thorns in my side, you know. And now you're in my territory, without anyone to hide behind." He wanted to convey the meaninglessness of the insect that seemed to glare back with such hatred. A hatred that rivaled even the most zealous of his pawns. But he wouldn't be here to gloat, and relish this opportunity, to play with his food as it were, if Hector's intrusion into the border between worlds hadn't been at least worth a moment of distraction from the steady march of future problems from the north.

"Someday, one of us will be your end. I can only hope that, if not by my hands, I'll at least be there to watch you die." he spat out coldly. There was an equally cold, mirthless chuckle resounding around Hector's essence. He knew this was a very dangerous game he was playing. But it kept Astor talking instead of killing, and he only needed to buy time until the pill finally wore off.

"My end? I will admit one thing, templar-deceiver." Astor hissed out. It almost felt like an ice-cold claw grazed his cheek, and it took all the willpower he had in him to not try and grab for it and see if he could somehow put the Archbishop himself in a wristlock. That would probably be the sort of mistake Victor would make and it'd surely be his last if he tried. "I can smell the blood of so many of my faithful on you. It's just not the same as getting to handle problems like you myself. Like the lizard with the iron heart. The time will come when I'll have to make up for the failings of my pawns, and I'll get to relish moments like this more often. Maybe then I'll be free to come for him again. Or maybe the one that so troubles my archibishops."

"Or...is the other interloper really going to? Ha. Hahaha. He's been trying to get his hooks in you for a while, but you're too ignorant to serve his needs. I feel the winds tell me, he'll be seeking to recruit your replacement soon. He'll be fun, I bet. Or maybe the meddler who's met her second end not long ago? He was trying to warn you, but you were blind to the message cast upon the reflection in that corrupted toy of his. A shame she's beyond my grasp...for now."

It was probably for the best that Astor had gotten so wrapped up in his taunts, in savoring the thrill of the hunt for the first time in a fair while, that he'd failed to notice Hector's presence had vanished from his sight halfway through that monologue. No doubt had he been under the effects long enough he would've likely tried to punch out an eldritch abomination had he heard him making implicit threats towards Roxanne...

When he came to, he didn't feel the "afterglow" that had attracted Roxanne's interest in the spirit pills. Not this time. He felt his heart racing at a hundred miles an hour, and he jumped up from his position at the foot of Agmen's altar so abruptly, driven into fight-or-flight mode, that he caused Nathaniel to jump back in fright. "SHIT! Hector, it's aight, whatever had you dozing off in the middle of the old farm like this, it was just a night...mare?"

The two both managed to recover their wits in short order, and Hector was caught off-guard by Nathaniel touching a gauze pad to his face. "You're bleeding, how'd that happen?" he remarked. Sure enough, there was a shallow gash running down his right cheek, exactly where Astor's claw had touched him in that dreamscape.

"Sorry to worry you Nate, I guess I dozed off for a bit and had a bad dream." Hector remarked, before hastily trying to cover for himself. "Must've scraped something on the way up." He was a bad liar and Nathaniel knew it, but he had no rational explanation in mind for how Hector ended up with an unexplained cut on his face, even though he'd seen the knight jump to his feet facing away from the altar and anything on it that could've possibly scratched him on the way up.

"Alright, if you're sure you're okay? Didn't hit your head or anything?" he said, a bit nervous but letting Hector go about his business after some reassurance. He wasn't exactly at peace with himself like he'd been that last hazy dream of Agmen he had, but it was something closer to peace of mind at least. He made a mental note however, of two important things...one, he suspected he could probably never take those spirit pills again without some sort of assistance from Helen or Roxanne already in place. And two, he couldn't afford to tell either of them, nor Victor for that matter, about this or else he'd outpace Roxanne's steadily-growing lead over Victor as the one most often yelled at by Helen for making stupid mistakes involving the arcane...

2
General Discussion / Re: Last Man Posting: -50% SHENANIGANS
« on: February 19, 2023, 06:02:36 pm »
Nyet. :>

3
General Discussion / Re: Last Man Posting: -50% SHENANIGANS
« on: August 20, 2022, 04:31:54 pm »
I have finally bothered to replace my old forum icon on here with the edit that removes the scribbliness it used to have all over it. It looks a bit flat as a result but no one notices that when I've used it on discord. And no one's gonna notice it's flat on here because forum ded. :D

4
General Discussion / Re: Last Man Posting: -50% SHENANIGANS
« on: May 27, 2022, 12:08:24 pm »
This is Dwarf Fortress, there is no winning.

5
General Discussion / Re: Last Man Posting: -50% SHENANIGANS
« on: December 31, 2021, 11:39:20 am »
Beep bep.

6
General Discussion / Re: Last Man Posting: -50% SHENANIGANS
« on: October 22, 2021, 10:06:42 pm »
Egg.

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General Discussion / Re: Last Man Posting: -50% SHENANIGANS
« on: August 15, 2021, 02:07:49 am »
Y'allmst've.

8
General Discussion / Re: Last Man Posting: -50% SHENANIGANS
« on: April 17, 2021, 03:49:58 pm »
Celebratory Sixpost after logging onto the forum from new PC.

9
Rec Room / Re: CDDA: Adventures in Cataclysm
« on: March 19, 2021, 06:21:13 pm »
(( Written with Salt. ))

Dr. Chelsea watched the tank roar to life as he had watched so many other vehicles do over the last several years. The Hell's Raiders, God's Army, and numerous small savvy survivor groups had come and gone before these. Never before though had a group gone dragging Dr. Chelsea's apprehension like this before. Medeina hadn't meant to be malicious back then, but even now it was hard to see it that way. Hard to see her as anything but a soulless butcher when he'd watched or been forced to watch as she set the creatures kept within her labs onto his colleagues and co-workers for the sake of research. It was an event in his life he couldn't reconcile, and watching the man in armor and the young lady with him go with the machine who he felt had arbitrated the collapse of the Tabula Rasa Project gave him the same sense of needless loss that the previous gangs of salvagers and thugs had not.

Charles Chelsea watched until the sound of the tank faded into the background hum of New Eden's pleasant drone and sighed. Then, he turned away back to the small apartment where he sequestered himself away from the worlds new more dangerous wildlife.



"So!" Minx chimed enthusiastically scooping up the papers Hector had placed casually on one of the siege towers seats on the way to his accustomed place in the driver's seat, "Where to first?" Medeina scrabbled fitfully at one of the other seats before Minx set aside the sheaf of documents and hoisted the small robot up next to her.

"I recommend as Dr. Chelsea suggested. My lab, the central hub. It is likely that it will be the safest and most productive of the five. We will of course need to take a stop at the tenjin lab, which will be safer but not nearly as well stocked." Medeina said.

Hector had given thought to Dr. Chelsea's hesitation, internalizing it and thinking it over as they drove on, deciding to humor Medeina's suggestion that they stop by her original lab station first. "We might as well go there first then, get through the hard part first." he added.

As they went along however, he took time to give his equipment a once-over, as best as he could while driving. Sword and shield, obviously. M4 was hung by its strap nearby, he recalled it had a fresh magazine in but wasn't chambered, with two spares among his gear. And then there were his bionics, checking briefly that he was still at full power and that his EMP bionic reported normal. Still only got that one power cell...

At least it was still working, that much was a relief to him. Given the circumstance, as much as he tried to focus on the task at hand and use that equipment check as a means to keep himself busy, there was that faint worry that he might need that EMP projector again, sooner or later.

The Paved road of the small town had given way to a more roughly paved backroad, and before long even that gave way to an even rougher dirt road that Hector had to slow down on. The Siege Tower had a good suspension, but even Catnip's improved shocks couldn't keep the tank from jostling around and threatening to bite a tongue or jam ones tailbone up into ones skull. Hector glanced again back at the woman and the robot, those two hardly noticing the hard ride the road was providing, and looked back just in time to see something dart out of the swamp on the right in front of the tank.

Even ten years on, the impulse to slam on the brakes was still strong and Hector did so with the preternatural speed of a man who often had to make snap judgements while driving. Still, something disappeared beneath the treads of the tank. Hector hoped that the two in the back wouldn't notice. In fact, he knew for a fact they wouldn't notice just another bump among all the others, but immediately the reality of his "fact" was shattered.

"What was that?" Minx asked, startled. Hector sighed, of course they'd noticed.

"Rolled over some kind of animal with the tank." He explained.

"What? Stop the tank!" Minx ordered, more than a little alarmed. Hector craned his neck around and saw what Quinn had seen before leaving, the womans depth of concern for life in general. Only a few seconds had gone by, but they hadn't got much further than the point of impact.

Minx was the first one out of the tank, bounding to see exactly what Hector had smashed. "Looks like you mashed some poor fella's dog, Sarge." Minx intoned, blandly bemused. Hector crawled out behind her and saw why. Whatever he'd hit, it wasn't a dog. It looked like a slug, but covered in mud colored chitin and bearing a pair of long bladed claws on either side of a long broad beak with a series of what he guessed to be eyes going up it near the center. The tank had rolled over it's middle, neatly crushing it in half.

Hector was out of the tank almost immediately after her, looking around warily just in case the noise and their sudden halt were to attract attraction, not even having the presence of mind to make a remark about being called sarge. "Well, if that's what passes for a dog in this area, I'd hate to see what its owner looks like." he offered in response.

Movement caught their attention and Hector had stepped forward, instinctively putting Minx and Medeina between himself and the tank. The thing emerging from the brush from the side of the road was far less imposing than the motorcycle sized monstrosity laying crushed in the road. In fact, to Minx, it was a very welcome sight.

"It's a coyote!" She whispered sharply, "But it's so small!"

It was small. Almost as small as a large house cat, but at the same time, it appeared to be proportional normal giving it the appearance of a full sized example of it's kind. The thing that he'd seen run in front of the tank had now made it's appearance, he recognized it now that it had come back to see what had become of the monster pursuing it, and only Hectors unintended intervention had saved it. It warily sniffed at the monster, then darted back into the brush to escape the attention of the newcomers.

"Wow, was it a pup?" Minx asked, a little out of breath. Again, Hector was amused at the girls reverence for something so common.

"No." Medeina said. "They are not often seen, but there is a growing breed of coyote adapted to be smaller than their normal cousins." Minx flinched at the last word, but said nothing while Medeina began to delve into the specifics.

Hector for his part remained alert and wary, mainly wanting to ensure they weren't caught off guard by anything while they were stopped out in the open, giving a little gesture towards the tank. "We should get moving. There are likely scavengers that will be attracted to what we hit, and no telling what they might be like." he said.

Minx looked around remembering just where she was. "Oh, yeah, you're right. I'm sure miss robot here would be all too happy to see whatever that was, but it's probably better to skee-daddle. This ain't normal New England after all. Come on Medi, lets follow the nice knight." Medeina trundled back into the tank with no complaint while Minx gave the tiny canid a little wave. "Driver, carry on!"

With the hatch shut behind them, the treads soon rumbled to life once more, to leave the peculiar encounter behind them and continue on their way, towards the aging facilities that loomed ahead in the distance...

10
Rec Room / Re: A History of Time to Come
« on: August 20, 2020, 11:59:21 pm »
In days past, during the battle for Maine, and for the fate of a realm...

Helen grimaced a bit as she pored over the maps, pieces of intel, taking in intermittent radio chatter. Victor had practically forced her to take a less proactive, less risky role in the ensuing bitter struggle over Bangor, Maine, and yet it was no less stressful strategizing over their next move in-between assisting with the wounded. Having made Victor sit it out away from the front lines alongside her did little to ease the stress.

"We're near the very heart of this. That thing hasn't made an appearance nor directly tested my wards over this area, but most of its forces have been worn down." she remarked, sorting through her notes. "Those two revenants evidently already tested using directed rifts in a prior encounter with it, and all that did was drive it off..."

"You'll need something that can not only banish it, but also seal the path it used to get here." Victor added, thumbing the pages of The Source, his other hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "If we had to, the pieces could be used as the centerpiece for that."

Helen nodded at that. "Makes sense. I don't think we can use force against force though, that thing relies on absorbing energy and feeding on it. We'd need something that draws upon voids in reality...as loathe as I am to suggest such." she said softly. She perked up, watching Victor draw his sword and lay it out on the table. Void.

"It could draw upon its affinity for binding with spirits and direct it without opposing it. Then it'd be easier to seal it in a way that prevents it from bringing its power to bear. Only problem is, well." He hesitated, before giving a sigh. "It'd be similar to what those two mentioned, a sort of vacuum in the fabric of reality guiding it. But it'd draw its wielder in with it. Whoever you send out there won't survive, even with the kind of protected magic you have at your disposal."

Helen gave a nod at that. "I see. If you lend your sword, and I choose someone to use it...we'd need to at least select someone who has the best possible chance of surviving it. My magic might not be enough, but...if we combined it with Keeper magic, but nothing even close to being powerful enough can be found in Oaths To The Chalice. Only their..."

Through her mask, she looked at the two armored figures outside. Hector, and Horace. They seemed to be talking, but about what she couldn't tell. A dick-measuring contest over who killed more of the abominations at Astor's disposal, she suspected. The strange unlife permeating the armor was barely discernible to her mask's senses, yet she could tell he seemed listless over something, faint flickers of another looming presence suggesting something else had the knight of the veil's attention.

"...Chosen." The helmet turned, as though looking back towards Helen, despite the wall between them.



There was the smell of blood in the air. Fetid death, burning decay. The Siege Tower's turret traversed as treads tore at the ground, crew in a state of shock as an AP round screeched uselessly across the armor plating of a mechanical monstrosity unlike any they'd seen before. Within, Hector frantically turned the tank about, full-speed towards the nearby cover of a bern. Roxanne had no sooner savored the thrill of firing its main gun when she soon made the choice to phase through the machine, to take to the battle and wreak her favored carnage more personally.

Another near-miss. Where the hell did they get UAFVs? Hector hadn't seen one, since. No, he'd never witnessed an intact tank drone, never faced one like this. His counterpart had, those decades ago, and paid the price. He'd soon relayed an order to the homunculus occupying the commander's hatch. They were in the open, and Branches was better-suited making use of her strength on solid ground, not playing at being tank commander.

A few meters more. Too exposed. Suddenly, deafening thunder. Rusty old blowout panels flying across the field. Metal caving in, biting deep into armor, flesh, cutting to the bone. A wicked gouge rent down the whole left side of the tank, engulfed in flames as it jolted to a halt.

"Hector? HECTOR!"

"Grandmaster?" Hector tensed up, jolting awake to the voice that stirred him from uneasy rest, and a gristly dream of the past. A young man, wearing the white-on-red surcoat of their order, stood at the doorway to the room, within the small roadside inn the group had taken their night's rest at.

They'd been up early, making final preparations, some talking with the locals at the small settlement a few miles from Walkerville, a few exchanging medical supplies and helping patch up a few injured day workers in exchange for supplies. Armor and equipment cleaned, weathered old vehicles checked and refueled. They'd given Hector an extra hour of rest, time spent suiting back up sharply reduced by having been the only one to spend the night sleeping in their armor.

And as the morning sun grew pale in the sky, they'd soon make their way back home...

11
Rec Room / Re: A History of Time to Come
« on: February 07, 2020, 09:09:17 pm »
Across the river from Walkerville, the array of fortifications and buildings just south of the old road practically resembled a village in and of itself. Today however, things were more quiet and somber, as most of the members of the founding chapter of Flame of Arcana had been in New Paris for the day.

In the central courtyard however, a few people were to be found. Thomas, for once, having been tending to duties there while his mother and father attended the funeral. "Thanks for being around to help, Ms. Rose." he said, setting a bundle of firewood down beside the workshop's kiln.

"It's fine. Everything's been so busy lately, it seems." Answering him was Alice, in an outfit comparably less formal aside from an emblem pinned to her vest, the white cross and red field of the New Hospitallers on it.

"When isn't it busy...seems like things have been more hectic than ever." Thomas remarked. "Was Grandmaster Lowe able to attend the funeral?" he asked out of curiosity.

"Unfortunately not. He's expected to get back from leading the trip to Akron tomorrow. Just the usual mundane missionary work." At that however, Thomas noticeably balked a bit. "That's all the way in Ohio, right? Across the mountains...gods, given how many things are still out there across the entire Appalachian, that hardly sounds like mundane missionary work." he pointed out.

"Close to mundane as it gets at least. They'll be fine." she remarked, Thomas giving a shrug. "Alright...I swear, mom and dad are both around his age, and neither of them really lead missions much anymore. Plus, it's not like the old days, guessing it's done on horseback now, instead of from the safety of a tank..."

"He'll be fine. And yeah, but funny enough he still keeps the Tower in ready-to-fight condition, even if these days it spends most of its time as a museum piece up in Fort Devons. Once a week, he runs a checkup on it, tests the turret, leaves it pointed in the rough direction of Maine. Little ritual of his I guess."

"Right. Guess it's good he's still active. Still, your boss is weird sometimes..." At that, Alice shook her head, but didn't say anything. You know I don't work for him, I'm not part of the Militant...



In faraway Maine stands a cursed ruin, in the heart of an ancient city. Monsters from Beyond infest the necropolis, on a scale far exceeding the worst victims of the Resurgence. Rivers of lava carve an impassible web of searing hellfire, a nexus of infernal lines forming a peculiar symbol, a brand that scars the city itself.

With so many perils, and an ever-present sense of hostility in the very air itself, what lay at the heart of the city is increasingly known only by rumor. But the Flame of Arcana, the New Paris Rangers, and the New Hospitallers have in their shared history a simple epithet. A warning to those who will listen, to avoid Abbadon at all costs.

Quote
"Here, Void lies in eternal rest. Here, the herald of Things from Below was vanquished. Let Void watch over this site, from now until the End of All."

12
Rec Room / Re: CDDA: Adventures in Cataclysm
« on: January 05, 2020, 11:57:48 am »
(( Written with Salt. ))

"Ah, uh, hello hello. You're certainly the smallest group I've seen here in awhile. If your after pre-cataclysm technological treasures, you won't find them here." Said the man. He was armed, Hector could see that easily when he got close enough. His hair had grown long and meticulous but altogether futile care had been taken to keep his clothes intact. Medeina watched the man carefully and her two companions as they interacted with him. She had a feeling about the man, a spark of something somehow familiar and yet totally unremembered. "My name is Charles Chelsea," he went on in his worn out and shaky sounding voice, "and I imagine if you were going to shoot at me you'd have done so already."

"What are you doing here?" Minx questioned warily, noticing the ill kept pistol sticking haphazardly from one pocket of Chelsea's labcoat.

"Well, warning people off." He explained, "or trying to anyway. Very few people listen and most of them don't come back. Some do, but even they don't find much they can use I suppose. Except the hunters. Sometimes a few hunters come through hoping to get one of the more dangerous specimens. But uh, this isn't a military installation. It's an ecological project."

Hector remained quiet for the moment, observing the man as the others talked for the moment, still carefully regarding their surroundings in case any of the likely wildlife might've wandered this far off. "We're actually here for a different reason. Do you know of the AI that formerly operated in this laboratory?" he asked, before looking back down to Medeina's proxy.

"Of course I know of them, I was the security analyst for the labs around New Gaia Center." Chelsea scratched the back of his head and glanced down to trace the line of Hectors gaze. "Oh, you've got a robot. First I've seen that wasn't trying to kill things or take my picture. Yes, I know of the AI. Mainly the AI core, but the others were using the same systems. The Tabula Rasa project was the brain child of my partner, but I could probably get you through the basics of it."

He turned then and shaded his eyes to look up at the signs on the nearby pillar, then pointed to each one at a time. "Tenjin, the fact checker that made sure the others didn't go rogue. Something happened to him, so there was no one to keep the others in check in the weeks before they were... Well, I don't know what happened to them, I was too busy watching the world fall apart. Bhadra and Menrva, who would work together with the core to acquire new specimens for observation and cataloguing, along with developing new survival strategies. Aphrodite, responsible for monitoring the breeding of more specimens in an effort to repopulate reduced populations in the case of an extinction event. Finally, there's the core, Medeina. Her job was to monitor and take down observations of everything. Every piece of data collated into her repositories for future use by the others. Each AI could work independently of one another, or collaborate thanks to Medeina and the unique AI structure designed for them."

Minx scooped up the small proxy just as Medeina broke the silence she'd held since the encounter had begun. "Are there records available from the labs concerning this Tabula Rasa project?" Chelsea turned sharply, causing Minx to jump and Hector to raise his shield a little. He'd gone white and wide eyed, staring at the proxy.

"I know that voice... Professor Harriet Glastur provided the template and we used it in... Who are you people?"

"It's a bit of a long story..." Hector admitted. "I'm assuming that most of the AI are no longer functional, Medeina in particular?" he said, only for the proxy to perk up a bit, interrupting him. "Mr. Lowe, I am quite functional at present." The knight facepalmed at that, looking away. "I mean no longer part of this facility, right?" The proxy paused a moment, looking up at Hector before responding. "We are currently at this facility, actually..."

Charles Chelsea was still staring at the small robot, and the small robot was staring at him. A long awkward silence followed the last exchange, then Chelsea cleared his throat. "Y-yes, they're gone now. A few weeks after the world ended they're data was erased by another AI from a disconnected lab via a security breach we'd been in the middle of patching. Where did you get this robot?"

Minx adjusted her grip on the eye bot and let Medeina waggle it's front limbs at the air for a moment. "Our friend Dee built it from some kind of eyebot or something like that, but she's projected out of a laptop on their farm." The eyebot in question was one of Dee's better works. A robot he'd put a lot of effort into making it harder to tell what it had been built from.

"A laptop... I don't believe a laptop has the vast processing power required to run the real Medeina AI..." Chelsea whispered.

"It does not possess the vast processing power required to run me. That is why we are here Dr. Chelsea." Medeina was quick to add. Upon hearing his name, the security analyst visibly shuddered.

"The last time I heard that voice," He said, recoiling a little, "She was contacting me through my home PC to tell me that everyone was dead and the project AI's were releasing all their specimens into the countryside." There was a long pause in which Minx stared down at Medeina, then he added, "There were coyotes everywhere for months."

Hector seemed increasingly leery of this, regarding the proxy before taking a look farther down the road. "So you know about the lab that grabbed Medeina at least. I don't know if your AI here can tell you much about what happened, somehow she was the only AI on-site that hadn't been picked apart by the one that was running the place we looked into. Was a while back." he explained.

"Dee's hoping to get materials to make a more useful proxy for Medeina, and on top of that another friend of ours is working on projects for surrounding communities that require materials of that sort. Hence Medeina's idea to come here..."

"Grabbed?" The scientist said, "I know C.I.D., the AI they were hooked into because of military branch bull was deeply jealous of them for some reason. I don't... Mr. Lowe, are you sure?"

Hector nodded promptly, "We retrieved her from another lab a few miles away from here, and I recognize the name of the AI C.I.D. from that lab. If memory serves, and Medeina won't remember this, she claims there were other AIs from other labs trapped there and C.I.D. was assimilating them." Chelsea's lips worked even as his brain worked, Hector could see the distrust worming it's way into the mans brain.

"She gave me status updates." He said finally, "Three weeks of status updates on how well the team was doing at surviving the horror she and her siblings had unleashed on them. The mating habits of coyotes, the feeding habits of creatures I can't even describe. How they needed more people and they were sending out Bhadra's cages to bring in more. She gave me that final update, then the labs just... went dark."

"Is that true?" Minx asked, shocked. Medeina tried her best to swivel her spherical frame up to look the woman in her electronic face, but failed and replied "Possibly, but I do not remember. I remember nothing from before I was activated by Mr. Koenig on the farm."

"Mister, uh..."

"Lowe, Hector Lowe."

"Mister Lowe. Frankly, I don't... I don't think that's a good idea. She... She has flaws... in her thought palace. She can pick apart the rules to adjust them in any way she needs them to be picked apart, and she's designed to enjoy whatever task she's assigned. She-"

"I am programmed to do a great deal more than just enjoy my tasks Dr. Chelsea." Medeina interjected, and Chelsea shivered at hearing her voice say his name, "I am outfitted with a complete emotional emulation prototype, though I suspect it is not mine. Please do not think me some rogue machine with no value on human life."

Chelsea cringed a little and glared at the robot more warily than before. "I don't trust you Medeina, not after what you-"

"We have a manifest." Medeina interrupted. It was a first for Hector. Not the interruption, Medeina interrupted conversations all the time, but her sudden change in tone. It was the first time he could hear a kind of agitation in the AI's voice. "A partial anyway. Do these labs have the materials we need or not?

Hector seemed to be scrutinizing Medeina, underneath that helm. He had his own thoughts on everything that'd been discussed, and even as he read the distrust evident in the doctor's voice, he still knew they'd have to see this through. Well, we'll have to see if he's right.

Chelsea almost seemed as though he hadn't listened at all, but Hector and Minx could see the doubt. Medeina could more than see it, she could feel it and the way Hector was now scrutinizing her. She was different now, somehow. The emotional emulation had a small but profound effect on how she carried out her observations, and what Charles Chelsea described didn't seem like the Medeina she knew herself to be at all. If creatures like Mica could change, then so could Medeina. Chelsea had cringed away from them, but only for a moment. Now he seemed to have something to say, but was unsure of how to say it.

Then, quietly, he asked "Mr. Lowe, can I speak to you in private for a moment?" Hector gave a nod of understanding before leading the way back over towards the road, leaving Medeina with Minx for the moment...

13
Rec Room / Re: CDDA: Adventures in Cataclysm
« on: November 10, 2019, 04:17:27 pm »
(( Written with Salt. ))


Minx had seen Medeina assert control over other robots before and thought that this would be something like that, but when they got to it, Medeina simply scuttled around it. It was dead, well and truly. Up close to it Minx and Medeina had no problem seeing the extent of the damage and very shortly Hector could see it too. Inside the cage, along the "roof" of the robot, a circular panel had been pried open and the machines guts had been carefully pulled out. Minx didn't have much attention for it though, Hector noted. Her eyes seemed to find themselves drawn away again and again, and when he followed her distracted gaze, he saw what she saw. Coyotes. Avoiding them of course, seeming to avoid the cage machine or the town center itself. There wasn't fear or nervousness in Minx's look. Just a kind of sadness.

"Mr. Lowe," Medeina asked, "When we are done with Catnip's task, would it be possible to drag this machine back to Walkerville? I would like to run an inspection diagnostic, but I cannot move from my proxy while this far from Mr. Koenigs computer."

Hector gave another little glance at the local wildlife, keeping the M2 pointed in a safe direction once the others were close to the machine, and the animals skulking about didn't seem like much of a threat for now.

"I suppose we could, I'd suggest being careful with it though. Given how a lot of the AI was back when this all started, don't want you catching something from it." he remarked, before turning his attention down the road. They were definitely close, it was just a matter of finding the facility among all the greenery.

Medeina prodded at a bone, some large slab shaped thing with holes running up the beak like ridge at it's center. Hector had no doubt that it was some kind of skull. The coyotes kept their distance, and soon vanished back into the greenery from whence they came. In the distance to the east, the call of some unknown creature rose and faded away. Hector realized there were no undead here, and he found that a bit odd.

"Shouldn't be too hard to find it." Minx commented, pointing up towards a vine covered pillar with a sign on each side. Hector shielded his visor and leered at it.

Quote
WELCOME TO NEW GAIA CENTER
TENJIN -  EAST
BHADRA - SOUTH EAST
APHRODITE - SOUTH WEST
MENRVA - WEST
MEDEINA - NORTH

"I suppose we start north then." Hector said, adjusting his grip on the M2. He had to reign in his surprise and his urge to raise the weapon again because at that moment a man in a lab coat strode out of a small apartment building up the street. He saw them. He saw them seeing him, and Hector thought he would bolt, but then the man waved and began to weave his way through the growth and few wrecked vehicles towards them.

Hector glanced toward the brush the man went through, gesturing to Minx and Medeina as he pulled the tank a bit closer to the side of the road and shut it out. "Who's that..." he said softly, shaking his head as he secured the mounted gun before closing the hatch, slinging the carbine propped up nearby over his shoulder and picking up his shield as he made his way out of the back hatch to join the other two. Seeing the stranger approaching, he gave a wave, for now only having shield in hand.

14
Rec Room / Re: CDDA: Adventures in Cataclysm
« on: October 16, 2019, 01:42:38 pm »
(( Written with ſalt, mostly by him in fact. ))

Hector gave his equipment a momentary once-over along the way. Shield, sword, M4 hanging from an equipment rack behind the seat. Didn't bring that  odd magical sword, as it seemed unlikely he'd need it. As he pondered Minx's remarks about whether she'd need to use her own weapon, he had the unfortunate suspicion that either Medeina will be solidly disappointed to find nothing alive down there, or else anything that'd survive all these years will likely mean trouble...

"Can I fire the cannon?" Minx asked.

"Have we arrived yet?" Medeina asked. Hector sighed heavily, marveling at how some things never changed. The collective childishness of people never did seem to go away, even now, and it seemed even artificial intelligence could be made to emulate that level of immaturity in the right circumstances. As before, Hector responded by telling Minx that his shells were limited and they needed to save them. Then, he took out his automap and compared it to the printed one hung next to the driver's seat via a banana shaped magnet.

"Getting there Medeina." He said, sliding the automap back into the slot Catnip had installed below the Seige Towers instruments. "Another fifteen to twenty and we'll be in the area."

Minx hadn't, but both Hector and Medeina had noticed that the scenery was changing. The closer they got, the more lush everything was. The world had had time to move on and pull things down in its own time, but this...

"Stop here please." Medeina suddenly chirruped, breaking Minx from her reverie and bringing Hector back from his musings. That was when he noticed what Medeina had noticed long before he'd even been aware of the overgrown derelict taking up two parking spaces and a good section of the intersection ahead. It was a robot. A massive one looking more like a huge shop vac. Only instead of a huge holding tank there was a cage, and rather than a suction hose and outlet, it was armed with a trio of arms tipped with crescent shaped appendages that Hector realized were some kind of catch poles. The cage was filled with the bones of various creatures, and perhaps he could imagine why Medeina would be interested in it.

Hector stopped and the robot made no move, as dead as the small town around it. "Alright, just be careful. If it's still active and you get in reach of that thing..." he said softly, opening the hatch above his seat to take a cautious look around, and prep the gun mounted there. Ammunition for that was increasingly at a premium as well, these days.

15
General Discussion / Re: Last Man Posting: -50% SHENANIGANS
« on: October 16, 2019, 01:25:54 pm »
Omae wa mou smol.

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NOCTIFER IS A FAGGOT