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File: 1360729099002.jpg (197.95 KB, 1024x1024, roll dem bones.jpg)


Simply put the number of dice you would like to roll followed by a "d" and then add how many sides you want each die to have. Post rolling requires this in 'quotes' or [Square brackets], and nothing is needed for email rolls.

Email Field Rolling:
You can roll one set of dice from the email field
2d20 in the email field will roll 2 20 sided dice

In Post Rolling:
You can roll up to 5 sets of dice from the post field, each set of dice can contain a different number of dice and a different number of sides.
Rolls can be placed anywhere in the post, they must be put in single 'quotes' or [Square brackets]. You can roll up to 6 sets of dice total
'3d30' will roll 3 30 sided dice.
[5d10] will roll 5 10 sided dice.

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File: 1714195322573.jpg (915.31 KB, 2048x1134, 310673615_5765840770103860….jpg)

 No.766596[Reply][Last 50 Posts]

After parting ways with their comrades descending into Tartarus, the remaining group of the Saviors met with Ecclesia to join into the Vermillion Corps, a mercenary faction that would give extra aid while they prepare for the oncoming forces of the Treibheanna. Their first mission is heading north to Ornifex to uphold the promise made to Zjetya to help her homeland with the Draconic Lords. Their official task for Ecclesia is to end the civil war, not mattering which side wins, leaving leverage of their aid to stick with the victor.

After a long journey, they reached their first destination of Vortigern's home village, where they met her husband, Grantz, and were filled in over time on the history of the land and the takeover enacted by the Dragon Lords. With unanimous agreement to aid the rebels against the dragons, their first step in fighting the war was to recruit Alloy, a descendant of Buiwong and sister of Mocha, to strip the draconic power given to knights that collected tributes from the lower villages.

With a grand success, they then joined a meeting of the villages, learning they were divided between the sides of the war as well, leading to a sneak attack against them in their sleep. Stopping the attacked, they discovered the dragons also had the aid of angels on their side, with the attacked under a heavy and inescapable mental alteration.

Now, they work to decide their next step. Lying low while they wait for the villages to decide who they stand with, and working on a defense against the angelic mind control to avoid losing themselves in the conflict.
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Pryce gives Buiwong a flat stare.
"Can you help us counter the songs… pretty please with a sugarcube on top," He says as if he's reading off a script.


"Pfffffftahahahahahahha!!!" Buiwong cackles, rolling over on the table. "Wow, I didn't think I'd actually get this far. Thought you'd call my bluff. Hey, whoa whoa whoa, don't go and reach for the swatter now. Since you were a good sport and all, I'll give them scrolls a little extra power to help you out in the middle of battle."

He wiggles his spider arms, and a number of scrolls manifest above him. Strings appear too, wrapping them all up neat and tidy for easy carrying. You sense a little extra boon fall upon the scrolls, endowing them with strength.


Pryce stifles a grumble, momentarily considering conjuring a swatter as Buiwong breaks into a laughing fit. Pryce lifts the scrolls in his magic, looking at the spider.
"You're lucky there's a lot riding on these to somepony important," He comments at falling for the bluff. "…But, thank you for your help." He says sincerely.


"Hey," Buiwong says, quickly losing all humor in his voice. "I'm entrusting you with these for a reason. Don't you go and let my grandson die. Same goes for my former servants… in fact I'll even extend that to all the rest of your allies. I'm a god of your homeland, no matter where we are. Within you lives the hopes of that homeland. Don't let any of that go to waste. Now… scram."

The spider vanishes.


"I don't plan on letting anypony die," Pryce says, feeling the gravity of the voice. With scrolls in telekinesis, he takes leave of the office, heading back to the others.

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File: 1708304461409.png (1.14 MB, 1599x795, 1685003193048959.png)

 No.766029[Reply][Last 50 Posts]

>Good Intentions
The rodent takes one cookie, and scampers off to enjoy it. Trajan, who had been stretching his legs elsewhere, has a nibble of one of the other cookies.


Godspeed ponders it. "I do wonder… But I am inclined to picture school as a uniquely effective role for Psy-Chrono harvesting. In Zinccastle, where basic education is required for all by law, people report suffering school-based dream-terrors quite regularly. Most often, they can't find their way to class, or they're forced to retake difficult classes, because their credits were retroactively declared invalid after they graduated. But other situations aren't as universal as school. Some people are fortunate enough to earn jobs that they enjoy, as soon as they enter the workforce. A few – the Nobles – are wealthy enough that they never have to work at all. So, a workplace scenario might not be as effective for feeding the Tree."

>Billy, Zamrud, Qhapaq

"I shudder to think what students who were wealthy and well-connected enough to gain admission to Agape would be armed with," Godspeed says. "Get along nicely with your classmates– and never agree to meet them in a dark alleyway."

She checks the time, and stands up as well. "Right. I'll be off, myself then. I'd offer you luck, but I've fought alongside you before. Your skill and determination will see you through these midterms."
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"You'll have to be more specific," Godspeed retorts, her tone not defensive, but prompting. Show your math, as if to say.


"I said there was someone with mechanical limbs, something vague with a few people, and you haven't pumped me on details… like you know which one of them was with her."


"Supposing I knew… how would that knowledge help either of us here and now?" Godspeed asks, leaning back in her chair. "An investigator uncovers financial corruption among Sages and Nobles. Receipts are traced. Informers and brokers identified. Exposes run in the papers. Yet, the money is still gone. The judge and jury realize what's good for them. The case stalls. The news cycle wanders elsewhere. The attention of the public returns to their immediate concerns. Work to do, bills to pay."

Godspeed's sigh is heavy and deep, as if she has had this conversation before, performing both the role of accuser and defendant, sometimes simultaneously.


As a respite, Deadweight sips her tea and observes their conversation as if she was reading a mystery novel.


"It's a rich school, so it's like complimentary snacks," Locomotive shrugs. "I think the ones painted like bushes are the tastiest."

"We need to take you to a doctor…" Lone Star mutters. "And a shrink."

>Lost, Deadweight



With that, everyone starts to pack up so they can head back and catch some shut-eye after such an arduous Cycle.


It's a little difficult for a time– the post-midterm partying has continued well into the Dark Hours. They seem fond of one particular dance track and dance move, and the bass has been cranked up so high that one could use it to perform CPR. Mercifully, Clamence and Grutar eventually break in, pulling double duty as campus security, and chase off the partygoers. Far from ruining the mood of the celebrants, this ends the party on a high note, for the thrill of pissing off someone with authority is all part of the fun of such shenanigans. Lost and Deadweight catch Dhampir scurrying away in the company of some zawatil students, but he barely says hello before jumping over a fence (which he could have easily gone around) and darting away into the darkness.

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File: 1669073838950.png (733.19 KB, 1410x555, Buiwong Cut-In Final.png)

 No.762858[Reply][Last 50 Posts]

"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.

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"I don't know how to read… or write," is Amy's response to all of this talk of paperwork. "Does that change anything?"

"What do you even get out of this, anyway?"


"Look, I don't know," the driver confesses. "I just work here. It's the House of Representation that wants all this paperwork done. I'm just saving up my money for a starter house."

"You can just make a mark on the pages," the driver says. "So… which will it be?"

The Paper Trail taps an imaginary watch on its wrist.



"Visit, then," Amy says with a wage of her tail. "I just wasn't sure if you guys needed saving."

"Honestly, I'm still not sure if you need saving… but, you also sound like you don't WANT to be saved."


Shorthorns looks on at the driver with a discontent look, not satisfied with the lack of an answer. "Well then, yes, just put as down for visiting - we don't know for absolute certain this trip will end up in trying anything to kill Asphodel."

As he offers the pages, Shorthorns using her newly acquired ability to read/write, happily fills out the forms, taking a little bit of pride in watching the written word streak across the pages. "Aaaand… visit. You mentioned there's a 'House of Representation?"


The exasperated driver gives you a form, not bothering with the rest of your statement. Blessings produces some ink, while the driver opens up the door to the carriage. It'll be a tight squeeze but you should all be able to fit inside. You might need to shove someone in the luggage compartment but that's a bridge you can burn when you get to it.

"Right," the driver sighs at last. "Just head for the big castle on the north end of town. They'll answer all your questions there. And if you want to kill Asphodel that's where you'll go. It'll be their paperwork to deal with then."

With the paperwork ready, you enter the driver's carriage. He turns about his ghastly steed and makes for the village. Out through the windows, you can see a number of most peculiar umbrals. Varied in shape and form, height and width, but mainly these are variations on those peculiar themes of bipedal and humanoid. Many are clothed modestly, others quite scantily, but neither of these seem unusual or noteworthy to the inhabitants. Gadriel keeps his eyes chastely cast elsewhere. Blessings, however, can't get enough of the sights.

"Wait wait, it's not like that!" she says and drops to a low whisper. "Look at them. Almost all of them… are Undefiled!"

Quite true… only the strongest can live upon Asphodel, the mightiest in all of the First Layer, LIMBO– those whose power, were it to be quantified, would reach near to the most sacred number of 9,999.


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File: 1687234241445.png (Spoiler Image, 614.87 KB, 1248x701, TCS One More Final.png)

 No.764657[Reply][Last 50 Posts]


You hear peaceful sounds. Birds call, and leafy branches, idly stirred by a languid breeze, whisper a soft response.

>[..] is gone. In its […] breaking […]. […] the sky and […] Dim radiance […] holy protection […] of the earth…

>And […] horizon. […]

>[…] millions of paths […] in […] millions and millions of […] every path […] a spiral, […] dancing […]

You have been walking through these sounds for quite some time.

>[…] has […] prove to […] Yet […]

>[…] fading […]

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139 posts omitted. Click reply to view.


Ischyros launches up from his chair, shocking Sister Root as she dabs at Mabin's injuries with a wet cloth. "That incorrigible… she's been interfering with the Agatecastle Investigation from the very first, and now she assails my right-hand dog. I'll have her–"

"Arrested? Tried? Jailed?" Mabin scoffs. "Sire, please save yourself the time, trouble and personnel. Now that my conversation with her is complete, I have no doubt she could elude us at every step if she were so inclinded – she may even have done so under a different name, a different body, perhaps even under a different Royal Family."

Ischyros blinks in shock. "You mean to say – she may even be from a different Castle?"

"We've other matters to discuss first, sire," Mabin says. "It is for the best that she captured and interrogated me, actually. I believe she was on the hunt for high-ranking members of the Lux Deorum, in order to obtain the Reports of the Agatecastle Investigation. I know now that I am one of the very few who could have survived such an encounter. Had she needed to capture others, they in their loyalty would not have submitted to her interrogation – and we would have lost countless valuable agents. But I am arrogant, prideful and reckless, and so I told her what she wished to know. In the end, I am certain I surrendered nothing that she would not have been able to learn through other, bloodier means. And for my collaboration, I managed to obtain information I sought as well."

"An Iron Hero as ever, High Director," Ischyros sighs. "Now: What is her obsession with the Agatecastle Investigation?"

"Her interest was less about Agatecastle," Mabin says. "And more about her very flesh and blood… her magnum opus."

"Her estranged daughter, Lost Hope?" Ischyros asks.

Mabin is silent, and does not answer for a time. "…I shall begin with a review of her interference in the Investigation.


"Lost Hope, as you know, was not on the initial list of personnel we selected when planning the Investigation. We only discovered that she had been surreptitiously added to the list of vetted and approved personnel mere hours before they were scheduled to be sworn to secrecy, debriefed and deployed. With my staff otherwise occupied, and under a time crunch, I opted to verify her files myself. This was my error, no doubt deliberately engineered by Lady Path. When Lost's files, by my hasty review, appeared to be clean of red flags, I convinced myself that I had simply missed her vetting while juggling my countless other duties and stressors in the months leading up to the Investigation. Therefore, I did not cancel her deployment.

"But I could not shake the feeling that I was missing something. Thus, I passed along her files for a more thorough verification by the Lux Deorum's typical vetting procedures. The Lady is crafty beyond peer… but even she could not hide from the Light of the Gods forever. They discovered that Lost Hope's records, down to her very birth certificate, were a truly convincing forgery. Near-perfect pastiches, down to the very chemical composition of the ink and paper upon which they were printed… I considered having Lady Path arrested and questioned, but I was not confident such an attempt would succeed. Besides, she wounded my pride. I did not want to retaliate with brute force where she had succeeded with guile. Truly, sire, she would make a better High Director than I–"

"Cease that kowtowing," Ischyros snaps. "What happened next?"

"…Right. I deployed my very best agent, my personal bodyguard, on a covert mission into the Manor Titanite. If any trace whatsoever were left – an indentation on a rug, a fallen hair, even discarded skin cells – I feared we would be found out… but the mission was flawless. My agent discovered that not even Lady Path was without a heart. They captured a snapshot of a pair of genuine documents, worn down by years of reading and rereading… two certificates of death, both issued on the same date.

"The first, for a filly, who had almost reached the age of two. The second, for a colt, who had just turned four. Their names, respectively, were Charity and Hope."



For a moment, none can speak. Mabin drags on his cigarette, and continues.

"We used the notarization on these genuine certificates to continue our investigation… As you know, the blessed internment of the dead is a matter of the utmost severity in Ironcastle. No death certificate exists that is not linked to a corresponding certificate of cremation… or so we believed. When we found the cremation certificates linked to the deaths of those foals… we found that, like Lost's records, they were forgeries."

"The bodies were never cremated?" Ischyros asks.

"Correct," Mabin answers.

"Then, the bodies…"

"The search continued even deeper into the criminal underworld of Ironcastle. I specially appointed another of my personal retinue to spearhead this search. The Lux Deorum rank-and-file are less suited for negotiating criminal activities than we would like to admit. The Lux Deorum thrives on numbers, data, patterns, statistics. The criminal underworld operates on personality, suggestion, unspoken words… this required a personal touch.

"The investigation slowed nearly to a crawl… until we uncovered a lead, from an old soul at the heart of a smuggler's network. An old soul who had seen, and done, far too much in the Outlands. My agent could threaten him with nothing that could shake him. He laughed in their face, and volunteered the lead freely.
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"A rumor of a surgeon. They possessed incredible influence and wealth – most likely a Noble – and commissioned the smuggling of a very specific species of Dreaded One into Ironcastle. The most unthinkable of crimes, the only crime punishable by the Nonagintimation: The execution of the criminal and a random ninety percent of all living Souls who have any relation, blood or personal, to the criminal, regardless of stratum, occupation, or age. It is the most grotesque of all punishments conceivable, more deterrent than threat… and yet, this surgeon was rumored to have defied it.

"It wasn't much to go on, but we would not be called the Light of the Gods if that were enough to halt us. Following that rumor and related ones to their sources, my agents grafted together a loose narrative of whispers.

"Of a surgeon Noble, who paid an unthinkable sum commissioning an unthinkable smuggling…
"Of a clandestine hospital, deep in the unmapped expanses of the Noblesse, whose staff consisted of a single surgeon…
"Of a congenital disease, once believed incurable, and one hundred percent fatal…
"Of an impossible event, wrought not by a miracle, but unspeakable, blasphemous science…
"Of the true reversal of death itself."

Ischyros sits there, pale-faced, his pupils small and dark. "Then…"

"This was the heart of my conversation with Lady Offbeaten Path," Mabin says. "The symbiotic lifeform codenamed 'Dhampir,' begotten of the fusion of Hope's corpse with that of a Dreaded One. Iron Soul Lost Hope inherited her life, power, and name from Dhampir – twice over. First, when Lady Path surgically implanted Dhampir into Charity's central nervous system, reviving the filly anew under the name 'Lost Hope,' nearly seventeen years ago. And again, when Dhampir sacrificed his life to restore Lost Hope's, in order that she could save their allies from the falling of the false Moon.

"I confirmed that Lady Path cured her other two children, Good Intentions and Lazy Days, of their congenital diseases using Dhampir's cells. They also owe their health and lives to him… to the original Hope."


"…I've a question," Sister Root says. "In order for flesh to live, it requires a soul. The soul remains in the body for three Cycles after death, before it returns to the Light Undefiled… if it is not first consumed by a Dreaded. All arcane knowledge on the soul attests to this. Only necromancy's most forbidden rituals can detain a soul from this departure, but they must be done immediately after death to be efficacious. How then, did Lady Path forge a living consciousness from… well, to be blunt, from two corpses and a soulless abomination?"

"That, I do not know, for she did not confess," Mabin says. "And at this point, I do not know if any speculation I can dream of is too wild for Lady Path's capabilities… However, she named her youngest daughter 'Lazy Days,' a most unusual expression. The term 'Day' is the supposed name of the country of the mythical 'King of the Sun.' Why then would there be 'Days,' as in more than one? How can a country be 'Lazy?' It may be that Lady Path has an inkling of the true secret of the Castles, just as Mogao and Mendicant Rudolph did."

Ischyros leans upon the table, face obscured by his interlocked fingers, and is silent for much time, while Sister Root continues to clean Mabin's injuries.

"…I would have her summoned here," Ischyros finally says.

"As I have warned before, an attempt at arrest would probably backfire," Mabin says.

"I do not want her arrested," Ischyros says. "I want her recruited into the Thorns."

Mabin lets the cigarette droop, his eyebrows arched so high they might leave his forehead. Eventually he sighs, extinguishes what remains of the butt, then stands and bows. "I shall extend thy inviation, sire."

"Thank you," Ischyros says. "And then you are to take two weeks' vacation, to be punished by two more weeks, if you are caught doing so much as checking your e-mails. You too, Sister Root."
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File: 1615253810781.png (903.31 KB, 640x480, THE ALTMEN.png)


This a sequiter to the end of Empire Arc, explaining Luke's whereabouts as he vanishes before the fight with Eon.
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LukeWarm flies into more hysterics as he points and shouts at every Luke around him "Yeah great fucking accomplishment. Me. MEEEE. Is that what it's all about. You manufactured the biggest loser in the world. How am I supposed to live knowing I'll never hold a son of my own! How am I supposed to look at Lavender and tell her I cum alcohol! I'm supposed to live my life for you. Well tell me how to unfuck it first!"


Business Luke flicks his cigarette away and pokes at LukeWarm's chest "Thats for you to figure out. We've had all the time to figure out our hang ups. And if you don't like it well guess what Mister Hero, that's what you get for always being such a shoddy person when you could be the world's last hope. It's not the end of the world Luke. But it will be if we don't take you now." Business Luke snaps his fingers and The Lukes begin assembling a portable station for time travel.


It's without much fanfare that the Lukes round together and drag LukeWarm toward the portable station.

The First Luke greets LukeWarm. He grabs LukeWarm's chin raising it so he can look him in the eyes "We are all counting on you Luke. We can't do this without you. You're all our hopes and dreams now."

The First Luke steps back "AAAAALT-MEN!"
And every Luke responds in unison "RISE UP!"

They step forward now to the final battle that awaits them.

[End Session]


flushing out rolls for mlpg







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Roll #1 7, 1, 5, 10, 3, 7, 4, 9, 4, 2, 5, 2, 10, 5, 6, 1, 4, 3 + 2 = 90

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 No.761208[Reply][Last 50 Posts]

Did you get registered for all the classes you need? I sure hope you did! Anno Classroom is up next, only on mlpg.
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"Wow, Should think up a smart name for you lil buddy." he said rubbing his chin sitting back "Aurelius? No too prentious." he hummed a bit "Dexter? Like Poindexter?"


The rodent offers no response, instead sniffing around your snack stash, perhaps for something sweet.


He offered him a few chocolate sandwich cookies.


The rodent takes one cookie, and scampers off to enjoy it. Trajan, who had been stretching his legs elsewhere, has a nibble of one of the other cookies.


"That does make me think that this place is more hyperbolic and could have been another's dream or perspective on this school. Though I don't know if this train of thought could help us." Billy falls sullen.

"It is quite a cute thing."

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 No.759115[Reply][Last 50 Posts]

Sir Pent slithers off of your arm and crawls over to Sparkler, and bumps his head against her arm until she relents and gives him a pat. Sir Pent soon bites off an old scale, one already on its way to falling off, and holds it out to her. Curious, Sparkler takes it, and after some deliberation, starts to mash it in a pestle while her healing takes its effect.

*Click click* the beetle continues, patiently awaiting your questions with its forelegs folded up together in a professional posture.

Your shark senses tell you there's something worth taking in this room… but it might be a nap.

Juniper flings herself into the pool outside the room, and Cycle follows suit. Juniper then climbs out and steps through the doorway with no issue.

"Looks like the Mechpriests would have had to purify themselves with a ritual bath before entering here," Juniper says. "But for our purposes, just stepping into the pool is enough to enter one of these kinds of chambers, I suppose."

"Yeah…" Chiu mutters, but she does not sound very sure.
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"That's me!" Two Reeds says. "The mirror is obsidian."

The seats, being made of stone, take a certain perspective on life and materialism to be comfortable. But to aid that along, the monkeys bring you an old scrap of blanket to serve as a cushion if you want it.

"Yup," the Sun Serpent agrees. "Winner gets first in line!"

With that less violent wager on the table, a wave of competitive fervor emboldens your allies. Rather, most of them are actually about to become your rivals in sport and in feasting.

>Those who wish to participate, remind me of your hair color, and select your teams

"We'll do a practice round to warm up," the Fish says. "Don't need you pullin' or tearin' nothing before the big battle on la mañana."

The Sun Serpent tries to whistle so he can be the referee, but failing that, as he lacks lips, he settles for establishing his rattle as the signal.


Cloud isn't too intensely focused on winning for the time being. This feels like a nice relaxing break from the fighting that he welcomes.
"Good idea," He comments at the proposition of a practice round, taking the time to do some stretches to not mess with his recently recovered body.
>Good with whatever team. Blue mane



"It's an interestingly apropos title considering the current situation," Cutlass comments to Two Reeds.

When the monkey brings her a blanket for cushioning, she telekinetically takes its. As her telekinesis folds it into a nice soft seating area, she extends her hoof to pat the monkey on the head. Though, she pauses for a moment to contemplate whether she wants to touch the dirty creature.

She eventually elects to reward the kindness. She gives the monkey a light pat on the head and says, "Thank you, darling. You're too kind."


"Practice sounds nice! Cause I don't really know what kind of game we're plying!" Cerulean looks around, wondering who she should go to for a team…or even how many there was to a team.
>Good with whoever. Blue mane.


Two Tons was metal and had no hair but that was A-okay

"So what do we do to warm up?"

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File: 1659658239173.jpg (Spoiler Image, 175.26 KB, 1024x1024, Moon.jpg)

 No.761609[Reply][Last 50 Posts]

>Iron King Ischyros, the Far Seeker, sets down the fourth and final Report of the Agatecastle Investigation, and sips the coffee Sister Root had set before him. They are the only ones to occupy the conference room on this Cycle.

>Mabin, High Director of the Lux Deorum, is uncharacteristically absent.

>"Sister," Ischyros says, keen to take his mind off anything other than his confidant's absence. "Make a note about this Concord program. It desperately needs some security updates. I mean, have you read this Report? Seems just about everyone's exploiting it one way or another."

>"Yes, sire," the Sister says. She casts another glance at the conference room's sealed and enchanted door. "…Th-this Report was late in coming, I note. Do you think Mabin's absence may be–"

>Before she can finish that sentence, the door flies open. With quick and long strides, a lanky white Diamond Dog, his clothing ruffled and stained by dried blood, enters the room. Sister Root gasps, fishing for the medical supplies she always carries in her saddlebag.

>"You must forgive my tardiness, your Majesty," High Director Mabin says as he takes a seat, taking care to not let the dried blood flake off as he fishes his cigarettes from his coat pocket. "I had an unexpected rendezvous with a certain Noble and spent the past hours in a most gripping discussion."

>Iron King Ischyros scoffs. "Surely we have known each other long enough that you do not need to hide your personal affairs behind euphemisms!" he says. "Truly, it seems the missus was–"

>"No, no," Mabin interrupts. "I speak plainly, but allow me to be even clearer. The Noble who accosted me was none other than Lady Offbeaten Path, of House Titanite."
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"It's like a part of myself is gone, and I'll never get it back." she said quietly as she began to grow a bit more distant once more.

She squeezed her tightly


Deadweight nods, still hugging her. "I'm so sorry," she says again, this time in a trembling whisper, "If you need me to do anything, just say the word."


"Just… stay with me for a while please." she said softly, so softly Deadweight could barely hear it.


Deadweight nods again and continues holding her paradoxically firmly and gently, comforting her the best she can.


Lost leaned in, and gently pecked her on the lips before just relaxing into her hold until they had to go to the meeting.

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 No.757843[Reply][Last 50 Posts]

At last, the final sight of the Tartarian Descent Team is engulfed by the interminable darkness.

The Great Seal rends the earth with a deafening quake, as it slides nearly shut, open only by a hairsbreadth. The Loyal Kerberos, ten thousand Umbral Hounds strong, holds one end of Shei's Black Thread in one of his mouths. He leers at it contemptuously, but holds it nonetheless as agreed.

Most of the others accompanying Sir Pryce cannot look anymore at the Great Seal, ready to direct their thoughts to anything other than the fates of their friends… and foes. Sir Estuary is the only one who seems composed. He looks to Pryce, and with a slight bow of his head, says, "Perhaps we should make for the surface, milord. We have no further business here."
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"So we don't know who's entirely on our side yet then," Pryce says as they give the reason for waiting.

When Vortigern lays out the question of how defended they are from the angels, Pryce is silent, thinking it over a moment. The pressure of Alloy avoiding his gaze and the eyes make him review this carefully.
"I… cannot say for certain. When I connected to that pony's mind, there was an overwhelming positivity, but I could only think of the Rapture from what I saw. And with Alloy's power, I still see and hear Buiwong. I don't know how much these impacted me in that moment, but it still took effort to escape that vision. The best I can say is with our knowledge of it now, we could resist it for a moment, and it'll take all of our effort to reject it in that moment to avoid ending up like that villager."


Vortigern nods then looks to Alloy. When he realizes that you're taking this in stride, he clears his throat. "I'd have to test it… but assuming they're similar enough powers, it should work in theory. I may have to increase the strength of my influence to fully repel the other one. Now, I wouldn't be strong enough to fend off a draconic lord directly, but I don't think the villager we fought got hypnotized by them personally. More likely, by one of their servants, using a weaker version of the same general power. Them, I could probably keep at bay, in case they tried to influence us directly… and without leaving any permanent damage."

"How do you feel about testing it on prisoners?" Vortigern asks.

"Excuse me!?" Alloy snaps.

"The prisoners of war we have here show signs like that which the captured villager shows," Vortigern says. "You may be able to help them return to a general sanity, if your power can reduce the influence of the draconic lords on them."

"I guess…" Alloy mutters. "Still… testing on POWs…?"

"You can say no," Vortigern says. "But if you're concerned for the ethics of it, understand that our foes have already cast the die further than any of us could. And you'd be doing it to heal, not to compel them to fight, as the lords have."

Alloy, troubled, does not answer right away.


The mention of permanent damage leaves Pryce with some worry on what they're dealing with, but he does trust that Alloy wouldn't do anything with malicious intent or damage on purpose.
When Vortigern suggests testing his power and training on the prisoners, Pryce also is thrown off guard. It feels wrong when they've already been through enough. But, after the glass condition they saw in Vitral, their options of dealing with angelic afflictions is limited, if not null entirely. And then his mind lingers to the question of Sarajinae, if she could also be affected by the draconic lords and angels in this way to be working for them.

"…If it is to heal, that is our best bet," Pryce says as a suggestion. "We don't know if the dragon lords or the angels intended to reverse this at some point, of if they even can. The last time we could undo one of their effects took an artifact, and we don't have anything close to that anymore. But, the decision is up to you Alloy. I don't want to push you if you're not comfortable with it."


Hearing you vouch for him with trust changes something in Alloy. A weight lifts from his shoulders… and from yours as well, as the pressure of the eyes goes away– you realize that, from the start, it came from inside your own mind.

Alloy nods to Vortigern. "Okay… I'll try it."

"Good," Vortigern says. "I'll allot you some of my circle of wise women to help."

She looks over to the rest of your group. "While you lay low, the village could use help with curtailing the region's monster population. With the uprising, we haven't been able to spare the fighters to keep numbers balanced."

River looks intrigued. "You need someone to play monster hunter for you?"

Sugar looks at the camera.

"Uhh, yes," Vortigern says, with the demeanor of one who realizes she has missed a joke but doesn't want to admit it.


Pryce feels a sense of hope after Alloy decides to test it, that they could stand equal to the angels if this goes well.

"Almost sounds like our game of Witches and Wargs," Pryce comments at the job offer.
"How bad could the population be? I don't remember seeing too many on our last two trips," He asks.

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