-  [WT]  [Home] [Manage]

[Return] [Entire Thread] [Last 50 posts] [First 100 posts] [Bottom]
Posting mode: Reply
Name
Email
Subject   (reply to 33441)
Message
File
Password  (for post and file deletion)
  • First time posting? See our frontpage for site rules and FAQ
  • Further overview of board culture in this thread.
  • Supported file types are: GIF, GIF, JPG, JPG, PNG, PNG
  • Maximum file size allowed is 2048 KB.
  • Images greater than 200x200 pixels will be thumbnailed.
  • Currently 3453 unique user posts. View catalog

  • Blotter updated: 2013-12-07 Show/Hide Show All

File 130255692897.jpg - (694.28KB , 1440x800 , 67ec65701e174a1deb6c3240f96f36b6.jpg ) [iqdb]
33441 No. 33441
Run little white wolf, run. You die today.

She was already leaving. The same time, every day. Her schedule had been mapped out in advance. There were no details left unchecked. Seven days a week, every morning an hour after sunrise. Like a faithful dog, she left her companions in the quaint home, returned at the same time every day, did not deviate from her schedule.

Today, there would be a slight interruption.

Your fingers probe the glock’s muzzle, feeling the machine-carved barrel. It was almost orgasmic, the way the Austrians manufactured them. And the iron sights! At only 60 meters, you could fire right into that window, kill that crow… But that would make it difficult to confirm the kill, wouldn’t it? No, better to get in close, where it’s better. More enjoyable.

Besides, you don’t want to waste the ammo. One extended magazine, that’s all you have. Thirty-three rounds. Thirty-three rounds to kill god knows how many Tengu. This will require the use of your fists, your knife.

You always did prefer the knife.



You’ve waited long enough. You lower yourself out of the tree used as your safe spot, bottles clinking together on the back of your belt, handgun swaying on its line.

Your hands tremble as you rush across the field in plain sight, towards the house. Despite your anxiety, you still manage to get the lighter out of your pocket while in full stride. A few strikes, and the flame goes up easily.

One final sprint and you skid to a halt next to the window. The girl inside looks up from her typewriter, surprised. You heave the first cocktail with all your strength, smashing through the window and breaking on her typewriter. You hear screams emanate from inside as you rush to the door.

“Hatate! Fire! Get out!”

“Fire?!”

The second one lights just in time. The door is bashed open from the inside, occupants trying to exit. You spring forward, delivering a devastating blow with your molotov. It smashes against her face, alcohol and glass spraying her. She screams and convulses as you knock her burning body out of the way, pulling your glock. The other tengu only gets off two words before she gets an equivalent number of 9mm into her chest.

What are-

9mm isn’t the strongest round in the world, but at this range it’s sufficient to drop her.

Your attention turns back to the crow writhing on the ground, desperately screaming for help as she tries to extinguish the flames covering her head and upper body.

It burns, it burns! Dragon, please, help me! Somebody, help me!!

One bullet to the forehead is all the mercy you afford her. Thirty left. Someone yelling in the distance turns you back to business.

“Aya?!”

Damn, that wolf tengu must’ve heard. Screw their sense of hearing! You slide into the burning home, stepping over the second victim’s body and pressing yourself up to the wall, next to the door. This is risky, as the house will soon be fully ablaze, but this gives you the element of surprise. You slide your knife from its sheath, awaiting the beast.

The pitter-patter of feet against ground tells you she’s close. It stops, then resumes, accelerates. You eye the first body’s legs, did they move? They did. She’s checking the body, or trying to smother it. It matters not.

You leap out, slashing at her head. A yelling gurgle and her backpedal indicates she didn’t take the full of it. Damn, it was only her cheek!

She gets out of your reach, grabbing her discarded, over-sized sword off the ground and slashing at you. You easily dodge backwards out of her first blow, a hectic swing meant only to protect herself. She pays for her incompetence with her life.

You jump at her as she’s trying to bring the over weighted blade back at you. It’s knocked out of her hand as the two of you collide, your 200lb mass on top. You use your weight to your advantage, forcing the knife ever further down.

Who are you?! What the fuck are you doing?! GET OFF, GET OF-!

The rest is made unintelligible by her gurgling and spitting, blood spattering your face. She keeps screaming at you, even as the knife enters her jugular. Her resistance finally gives as her body gives out, and the knife finishes going through her neck with a shlick.

You stand up, wiping the blood onto your pants’ leg. Several white specks are already visible far, far past the tree line. They’re coming.

[ ] Ambush the damn Tengu. Retreat to the tree line and open up fully automatic when they foolishly expose themselves. Your firepower will win the day.

[ ] There is no need to continue this fight. Their guard numbers are spread wide. Retreat, circle around, and agitate the feral youkai. It’s time to unleash hell, and not just on combatants.

[ ] This was satisfying, but unnecessary. Circle around to the underground. The fusion reactor awaits your interference.
201 posts omitted. Last 50 shown. Expand all images
>> No. 46876
[x] Chat with Youmu a bit before leaving; her "personality" has caught your interest.
[x] >>46859

Good thought about the extra ammo; we did seem to run low on each of the previous missions.
>> No. 46902
We have a mandate to use all our ammo, you know! It's like a required thing!

Called. Writing soon.
>> No. 47055
File 134847086298.jpg - (165.19KB , 800x800 , abe58eece01cb77d5587e81fb4e73bdb.jpg ) [iqdb]
47055
[X] The above.

“O…kay. I understand.”

A crack in her facial expression. Like a child discovering words. A flash of an attempted smile.

“Make sure the vampire gets something to eat. Nothing bloody. Can you handle that?”

A careful eye upon her. She twitches.

“But… what?”

She’s asking. Questioning.

“Something. Figure it out.”

You’ll have to keep a close eye on her.

Now, where did you put those guns?

************************************************************

There’s not much left, and nothing specialized for a silent operation, but it’s not like you can ask for more. You could, but you figure Yukari might not be so pleased to hand over a pile of guns for whatever purpose. Nor might someone be pleased to discover another storage room of missing weaponry. You really have to wonder where this stuff comes from, whether it be some long forgotten East German bunker, or from the ready rooms under the American Fort Knox. Perhaps it even comes from the motherland. Some of these weapons for sure have not been exported.

A poor Abakan. You run your hand down its side. Assault rifles are not suitable for this kind of work, unfortunately. Had you had one a week ago, you would have gladly carried it to the end, but now there are better alternatives. Yet it remains here, unused and discarded, having little purpose. It has so few brothers, it is a shame to leave it here. You won’t shy from its cousins though. If only you could find a Saiga.

You wrangle out a AA-12. It will do. It will do…

A dependable pistol. A glock. A silencer, even. More than you expected to find.

A knife. A vest. Take out the ceramics, there shall be no bullets today.

Flash grenades and third generation night vision. Not to be used at the same time, of course.

And finally, a harness. Suitable rope is procured. Rope has a number of purposes, especially in interrogation.

The moon is already darting to the top of the sky by the time you have all of your equipment laid out in front of you, but it matters little. You still must take the time to pack and load magazines.

Drum magazines must be partially disassembled, springs calibrated, ammo loaded in a careful order.

Weight must be distributed. Left upper back. Right lower. Waist. Flexibility on the legs is paramount. Freedom of movement for the upper torso is important.

Harnesses must be taut. Improperly worn, it may result in pain and rashes at the worst of times.

The locations of the knife and ammo must be standardized or carefully studied and remembered. Grenades must freely slip from their holsters, but only when tugged on.

You glance at the sky. There is a fantastic amount of moonlight peeking from behind dark clouds. It shall suffice for a night operation.

********************************************

The trip up the mountain takes longer than you would prefer, but is otherwise safe. You almost thought yourself lost when a Tengu patrol doubled back thrice, each time almost discovering you. However you kept your nerve, and were able to evade them. It would do you no good to be discovered so early.

You crawl along on your hands to the edge of the bushes. Your target sits directly ahead, the only structure for at least a mile on either side. A curious little hut, built in a clearing with wide open view in every direction. You’re not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing that the house isn’t in their village.

Of course there is another problem. There are three of them. You only want one. They must be separated.

Your eyes scan the terrain for an idea before an object catches the bottom of your view. You take out a flash grenade, looking it over and thinking through the possibilities. Genius.

A dark, quiet night. Somebody call for thunder? And where there’s thunder, there’s lightning. Fortunately, you have both in one nice package.

You stand, gauging distance and steadying yourself. You pull the pin, and toss the first with a great overhand throw.

A flash of light and a roaring boom proceed a few seconds later. You quickly crouch and flip on the night vision, watching the house for any sign of activity. Not a creature was stirring, not even a wolf. That’s just fine. You have more, and lightning does strike twice – A little closer each time!

You let a few minutes burn away for authenticity. You stand, and chuck another even farther. This time, you think you can see one vaguely rolling over in their bed. That’s fine, too.

A third is thrown, and if you strain your ears through the ringing, you can hear movement in the silent night. You take off your pack, setting it aside. The only thing you keep on your person is a bundle of rope and the last grenade.

You crawl along the barren, grassy ground. Closer, closer. It must be perfect. Just close enough to throw it inside, but far enough not to be spotted. Your arms tire as you crawl, making you wish you had a grenade launcher right about now. Perhaps the Abakan could have served, today. Still, you don’t have one now, so it must be forgotten.

You are in position. Pull. Hold. Hold. Throw!

It arcs perfectly, coming right through the upper half of the window and exploding a second later. You press yourself against the ground, barely peeking up as the door to the hut bursts outward and figures come scrambling out.

The wolf…

She looks around. You can see those two ears twitch. Those beastly features.

She looks right over you. She cannot see you. Her eyes are not acclimated. You almost hesitate to activate the night vision, wary of even the slightest sound or buzz, but you must. You can see her clearly now. She scans the treeline, not the ground right in front of her.

They chatter at length, although you can’t pick it up. Their excitement dies down, but yours only grows. A final look around, and one goes inside. There are two. One wanders around the house, and the other stares at the sky. That one goes inside. There is one.

You barely inch towards the house, making only the slightest moves as the last one tarries outside. You start to gather a length of rope in your hand between crawls. Just enough to fit around her head…

She walks closer to you as you remain perfectly still. You must strike now, or her eyes will adjust.

A flash, and you are up in a second. She turns, bewildered, but ignorant of fear or danger. You smack her hard enough to spin her around, quickly jumping on her and throwing the rope around her neck. She balks upward, trying to kick, but unable to scream. You tighten the rope, forcing her onto her knees and bring her down. You bash her face against the ground – Once, twice, until she stops moving. A quick check of the pulse. She’s alive, but barely breathing. You remove the rope.

A quick look around tells you that nobody heard, or at least nobody came to check. You unbutton her shirt, rolling it up and gagging her. A quick fasten of the rope around her legs, and you engage in a dead heat, pulling with all your strength until the two of you are out of the clearing. You check your prisoner for a pulse, and satisfied with the results, you re-don your pack. You carry her now much gently. Not out of caring, but necessity. If she dies now, you can’t beat an answer out of her!

*************************************

Your search for a suitable interrogation point leads you further up the mountain. Trees become sparse, the ground uneven. Tengu structures are more frequent here, although few are manned. You come upon a small mountain spring, and decide it will do. You set your prisoner at the pool’s edge and shed your pack, cracking your knuckles. It reminds you of Chechnya.

Of course, the prisoner must be awakened before interrogations can take place. You can stab them when they’re unconscious, but if they’re not just asleep they tend not to wake up. You pat down the vest for the mandatory suture kit, and find smelling salts instead. They will work, but first…

Ah… yes. That’s good. Sharp. Vivid. Strong. Your fatigue is gone. These salts will only last for so long, however. You take a second and break it under her nose, quickly working to remove the gag.

Her eyelids flutter as she moans, slurring words through her bloodied mouth.

“Good morning.”

You plunge her head into the water, holding it there as she begins to thrash. Fifteen. Fourteen…

You pull her up as the thrashing stops. You punch her in the diaphragm, and she comes back to life, spitting up a mix of green bile. You allow her barely two huge gasps before you plunge her back in. Ten. Nine.

Up again. She spits outs whole mouthfuls of water, choking as she gets as much air as she can.

“I want to know something.”

Down again. No need to ask the question, yet. She needs to understand that there will be pain regardless. The pain is lesser if she answers, though.

Up.

“Are you listening? You must listen.”

Her eyes roll around in her head, but she is able to mouth off a faint ‘yes’. That’s good, good. Cognitive functions still exist. Too much oxygen deprivation and well… there goes the brain. You allow her a precious few moments to grab a breath before asking succinctly while tightening your grip on the back of her head.

“Now answer me: How do you protect from Yukari? How does she not spy, and sneak, and trod upon your realm?”

Her mouth forms words. You lighten your grip for just a moment, easing her on. You put your ear close.

“Seer… seeress.”

“Ah.”

You dunk her back down in the water. Holding. Holding. Ah, it won’t do any good if she decomposes. You let her up. As you throw her aside, you notice she can barely move, barely breathe. Airways checked. The gag is reapplied. Limbs are bound. It takes three days for a human to die of dehydration. You suspect it will take longer for a Youkai.

Another interrogation awaits you. You might have to get creative. Time is burning. You must be off this godforsaken mountain by sunrise.

You must head further up the mountain, before you may come down.


*****************************************************

Double quick, now. Don’t tarry. Over that ridge. Down that crevice. Moonlight is burning. Legs are aching.

The largest building on the mountain. Not two stories tall, but a vast eastern-style mansion. Servants dart in and out of structure, so how are you to know which is a “seer”? It’s quite simple, really. It always is. The best well dressed are the ones best off. This is true for the businessman, at the top of his glass tower in a prim suit. It is true for the rebel, lurking in his cave in a military dress uniform. It shall be true here, as well.

To enter the house is madness. To ignore it, impossible. The target must be flushed out.

With a sigh, you again untie your pack. You select a length of rope, check your harness, and ensure your knife comes out smoothly. Then you begin to circle. Once around the house at 100m. No features. Again at 150. Nothing. 200. 250. 300. Something clinks as your foot snags an object. Your steel-toed boots have caught a protrusion of pipe. You unearth it a bit more, flicking on your night vision and gauging its running direction. Back to the house, yes… and the other end goes further down.

You follow it.

As you reach the end, a brown muck barely showing a metal pipe, you become aware of how insane this situation is. You have just followed the septic line for the house of a Tengu who is much too well off, who really deserves to be raided with high explosive and a generous helping of fireteams. Yet you are running around, vainly searching for where their shit ends up in order to get them to leave a structure.

You must devise a better way of tackling structures.

The thought consumes you as you automatically survey the situation. Tear gas. No, too obviously you unless you hid the canisters. Hrm, lots of flow. Back it up maybe. Incendiaries – No, too much commotion. You might as well tell them all “Come here!”. A rock? No, a rock won’t snugly fit the exit. Is this the main drain? A secondary force, the anvil to your hammer, or sickle, perhaps. But no. The Youkai may be able to be vaguely controlled, corralled, and directed, but the Tengu are experienced against them, the humans have the wall, and Yukari wouldn’t blink an eye. Dirt. Simple pressure should suffice. Then again, waste is designed to seep into dirt.

Well you must do something. If you had a hammer…

With a hammer you can strike anything and everything to death. With your hands alone, you could. But not metal. Metal is not so easy to destroy as people. A strike. You use the butt of your rifle, but you must be gentle. It is not a Saiga, it was not born from Kalashnikov’s family. A rock must do. Pounding metal into metal. This is a job for the železnodoro men. It is said, though: If support can reach you, you must not need it. If you need support, it must not be able to reach you. You have found this to be true.

The pipe is destroyed. Crushed, blocked, rendered unusable. You use your knife to loosen earth uphill, and cover the end for added measure. You lug a few larger boulder chunks after that, and decide that must do without equipment. You are no plumber. You hope none of them are, either.

Moonlight fading. Always with the deadlines. Grozny by 0640? Be there at 0600. Trenches by morning? We had foxholes in 5. Kill 10? 100.

Back up the mountain.

*********************************************

Time burning. Tick. Tick. Tick. You wish it were a clocked explosive, but it’s just inside your head.

Time, time…

Come on.

A shriek of timid confusion. The bottom rung, the servants. Then angry yelling. The authority is not pleased. A mistake has been made, but not theirs, you know the truth. A call for calm. The moderate.

Evacuation. Running from wastewater. You sneer to think of the things you’ve charged straight at.

Circling. Confusion. Disagreement. You identify several that could be leaders, or seers as it’s been put. You shift weight on the branch you sit on, careful not to disturb the entire tree. Your eyes follow the prey below, ignorant of your presence. You lurk like the Amur tiger, and the striking similarity nearly causes you to blow your cover with an audible laugh. It’s true, you’re stalking an inferior prey with night vision superior to a normal human. Just the perks of equipment, is all.

They’re moving. One of the important ones coming your way. Alone.

You silently lower yourself through the tree, quickly retrieving your pack and gauging her path. You make yourself a suitable lead, and hang the pack on a tree at chest level. Backtrack a few meters, and up you go. A leap, catch the next branch, and you perch yourself with not a sound.

Up, up. Out of sight, not in mind! You quickly screw a bolt in, checking to ensure its grip and then threading rope through and back into your harness. You carefully appraise the length, estimating the distance to the ground with the relevant issues factored in. Check the harness. No give, just some chafing on your legs. This is why you were never a mountain troop.

You sit there, clinging to the side of the tree’s trunk. Waiting. Watching.

Borrow a cup of sugar, neighbor? Aww sure my little pumpkin! Borrow a toilet?! Come right in! Stupid Americans. Stupid Tengu. So comfortable in your homes, so ignorant of the truths. A security action? Bah! You know nothing of war. Win the hearts and minds, lose the countryside. We know that lesson too well. Now you are the ones ensnared. We can build road and rail for a thousand miles, and have. From Smolensk to Königsberg. Moskva to Grozny in more recent times. You cannot even build an electrical grid! Pull up your generators and field kitchens and ignore the trees and ditches. You’re 70 years behind us when you face the Motti. You know nothing, and so we will bury you.

She draws close.

Breathe. Lean back into position, visualize the maneuver. It must be done with utmost precision. Know exactly how you will move and twist. You must be ready. You must be perfect.

The crack of a branch below. You let go.

You fall backwards through the air, identifying her figure in a split second. Your body twists, righting out as you lose those last few feet of air. Your arms strike forward, grabbing her under her head right as the line goes taut, snapping back up half an inch with a jolt. In the same instant you flex upward, lifting her up just another inch.

She lets out a gurgle as you hold her in a deathly chokehold, held up by your arms and her tiptoes. Her legs buckle as she tries to hold on, swatting at your arms with her hands in a futile attempt to drive you off.

“Quiet.”

You lift up a bit, just enough to raise her off the ground completely for half a second. Her arms stop and give a twitch as all airflow stops. You lower her back down, still forcing her to stand on her tiptoes – A stress position. You ease up on the hold, just enough to allow her to get some air.

“Understand? Resist again, I’ll pull up with all my strength.”

You make a cracking sound like her neck would, to emphasize your point. She tries to nod, and then has to gasp at the pain. You can’t help but giggle. She mouths a ‘yes’, instead, having learned her lesson.

“Simple, now. What keeps Yukari out?”

Silence. No response. You apply more pressure, and she chokes out part of an answer. You let up so she can talk.

“Ch-Charms…”

“More.”

Pressure, and ease up a bit…

“Posted… around the treeline and structures. Magically im-”

She loses her words in a cough before starting to choke on her own spit. You let up quite a bit, letting her rest on her feet as well. Your back receives no such relief, as you continue to hang upside down.

“Magically imbued. We mark our domain. She cannot trespass with her powers.”

“Similar to the shrine maiden’s ofuda?”

You ask quickly, driving it along to get yourself out of the situation so you can get down.

Breathing. Breathing. Shut up and catch you breath, you bitch.

“Completely, but we are specific in our desire to keep her out.”

You see.

Choke. A babble as you apply strength to her throat, lifting her back up. Hold… and she’s out. You release her limp body, quickly leveling yourself out. You bounce off the tree before securing a proper foothold, but from there you’re able to easily use your harness and rope the way you’re supposed to – To climb up. You remove the bolt you had placed earlier, intent on leaving no trace you were here. From there, it’s a simple drop back down through the branches.

Again, you tie your victim. Arms together, legs together, arms run to legs, placed on belly. Gag. Grab the pack, and think… about the pain. The chafing. The stinging around your crotch. Your back feels like you pulled out a vertebrae. Your head’s foggy from the blood pressure of being upside down. And it still feels better than when a thermobaric landed next to you.

Maybe you can grab an hour’s sleep when you get back to camp. Or sit down, take off the gear. Maybe there’s food. Or water. Or food and water.

…You didn’t have any food when you left.

*******************************************

You stagger into the camp as the sun starts to blaze over the horizon. No time for sleep. This is your one off day. You grasped it from the jaws of the beast, barely. Barely. Preparations’ must be made, today! There is no time for sleep. There is no time for- Eh, food can be eaten on the move. Where is it, where is the food? That is the Youmu. The…

The hell?

You blink through fatigued eyes. Youmu is in a sleeping bag. With the vampire. They are asleep. Youmu. Is in a sleeping bag. With the vampire.

Where the fuck did she get a sleeping bag.

And more importantly, why is she sleeping with the vampire. You wonder also, perhaps, why the vampire is sleeping. But you can’t dwell on questions like that. No, no. You will ask later. Later.

You let your pack fall where it may, and take a seat upon those old crates. Your vest comes off along with the night vision. You just sit there, faintly staring at the woods. You rub your legs, your back. You urge up the effort and sit up long enough to remove the harness, too.

Your hands find their way together. You glance at them and see the ribbon in between smears of dirt, sweat, and blood that have come to cake your skin. There is no feeling from the hand that it bandages. You carefully unwrap it. There’s nothing under it.

Not anything. Nothing. Calluses, maybe, but the wound is gone.

Heh, well. That’s just fine by you. Maybe while you’re finding some magic you can find the magic that explains that, too.

Hah. Hahaha…

Where the fuck are you going to find magic, charms, and some meaningful ability to use them?

[ ] Reimu. Friendly to humans. Friendly to you, surely.

[ ] Byakuren. Friend to all peoples is a bigger step, huh? She might ask why, but you can lie.

[ ] The world of the dead has-- had spiritual charms.
>> No. 47058
[x] The world of the dead has-- had spiritual charms.

Can’t fool Reimu, and Byakuren is not to be trusted. Better use Netherworld leftovers, and set them up by means of Youmu.
>> No. 47061
[x] The world of the dead has-- had spiritual charms.
>> No. 47071
Some writing in progress. No idea when it'll be done. I must say... I really enjoy this Yuyuko as a character. Perhaps I should write her a short. She's refined. World weary. Troubled. She'd almost be a good romantic interest if she wasn't so opposed to our main character, or he wasn't so bloody insane. Oh well. I'll simply take pleasure in writing her, for the moment. Do say something if a part of an update strikes you particularly well. I might be able to knock out another scene or two, strictly non-canonical, of course.

That's all, really. Spoilers are for the coming update. Read at your own risk.
>> No. 47147
File 134946035076.png - (1.13MB , 1250x786 , 2d16cabd097d2717425edcc9fe847fe9.png ) [iqdb]
47147
[X] The world of the dead has-- had spiritual charms.

Youmu.

Youmu.

There’s a reason you brought her. More than a pack animal. Not very much, but still.

Sleep soundly, Youmu.





You take a moment to collect yourself and re-gather your pack and weapons. You exchange the night vision for thermals, though. They spot spirits just fine.

A few exercises to work out the kinks – in full battle dress, no less. Then you’re off. Blazing west for the Sanzu.


*******************************************

Through forests and across rolling hills. Past a shrine, then another, and a village, too. Two good sources of charms, and one of bodies, and you pass it all up. For a godforsaken river. The mist is rolling in quite nicely. Yet at the river’s edge, right on the bank, rests a small rowboat. Eerily familiar. The faint smell of gunpowder and cordite fills your nostrils. Something strains your ears in the distance.

You feel that you’ve found yourself a little closer to the underworld than you thought you were.

You step onto the boat, and observe as its mooring melts away. The current turns the boat towards the other edge of the river, and off you go.

It’s just that little feeling, that little nagging. Maybe it’s the mist closing in. Maybe it’s the river that you can’t see below the surface in. Maybe it’s the boat that is driving itself across the river. Something definitely seems off.

You’re brought to your senses by the sound of skidding as you run aground. It takes you a second to realize that the abyss in front of you is actually ground, and not the ‘water’ that proceeded it. You can barely tell where the shore starts, and the river ends. A tentative step out, and you are now in the realm of the dead. The irony of your former disability does not evade you.

You scan, searching for any sort of landmark or difference in ground or terrain. Everything ahead of you looks… normal. Empty. Forgone.

Nothing.

You down the thermal goggles, and turn them on.

Spirits.

Wandering. Aimless. Scattered. You swat one out of the air right in front of you. Curious how that works. Interacting with a spirit, and all that.

You press on, searching for the highest concentration of them. It seems easy enough. Straight ahead, away from the river. You glance left to appraise various groupings, and see the boat, a full 90 degrees off of where it should be. You glance back to where the boat should be, and it is there, too. When you try to look between the two appearances of the boat, it is in neither. The only way out, now… is forward.

So you go. Ignoring the path back. Towards more and more and more spirits. Great oval, circular, shrubby clumpings of thermal readings. And then. A lot of nothing. Not a blank, white reading. Blank, blue readings. A temperature of SOMETHING.

You flick off the thermals. Before you stands the dilapidated walls of the former courtyard of the underworld. What was once a sort of very impressive gateway is now one door… if you put both the pieces together.

You stroll right in through the opening. The courtyard’s no better… although the body is gone. And any sort of bloodstain. You don’t remember a lot of blood. She was already dead. That may have contributed to the lack of blood. Curiously, the furniture is gone too. Of course, with a thousand spirits around, one or two must be a true poltergeist.

Yet you can’t tarry here. You know that you need to head deeper into the structures. It’s audible now. Barely. Yelling, screaming… ricochets and breaks. Bouncing off the interior walls, doubling back over itself, increasing in frequency and decibels. It’s a drop in the metaphorical bucket, but the bucket’s empty. It’s the only sound. So you strain to hear it, but you can hear it just fine.

A gate, an archway, a bridge over a swollen riverbed. You approach those final gates, looking for the interior keep. Where are you, Saigyou?

“Can you taste the blood? Can’t you feel the tears of pain?”

You turn at the voice. Yuyuko Saigyouji. Queen of the dead. She’s seated, cup of tea in hand. One eyebrow raised.

“No rest for the wicked, huh?”

You’re not sure just who she’s referring to at that.

Of course, you allow little time for formalities. If she’s here… you’re deeper in than you thought. You swipe with your arm, as if pushing aside any sort of issue or uncertainty.

“I’d assume you know why I’m here?”

“The underworld sees a great many things, when time is infinite and where change is not forthcoming.”

A deflection or misdirection. Word games. Nobody cares for word games, especially not you.

You pull the glock and point it right at her head. She, of course, doesn’t even twitch. The intent is clear, though.

“You’ll help. Won’t you?”

We have no power to determine the course of things. It is only you.”

Safety off.

“I don’t tolerate opposition.”

Her head warps as the bullet streaks through it. Fading away, whipping out in every direction. You can barely make out a sad frown among her dissipating figure.

“I am but your memories.”

And then she was gone. Something’s still off. A rather rancid smell…

You bend down to sniff the ground where she lay, trying to figure it out. It is when you stand back up that you notice it in the corner of your eye. A fresh cup of herbal tea situated on the table. That was not there before.

“Looking for something, Human?”

A chill runs down your spine. The voice can’t be…

Yukari.

Options, options- Shit! Go for it!

You spin and aim, and she’s gone.

“I don’t tolerate opposition!”

Her mocking voice rings out. You spin, and again she’s gone. There’s a flash on the periphery, and this time you waste no time. A triple tap to the chest… and she stands unfazed. No wounds, no recognition.

“So that was your plan, huh? Wander into my domain and get what you want? I’ll take a toll from you!”

Fuck the bullets, then! You draw your knife with your offhand and throw it right through her as she explodes into a puff of smoke. You fill the smoke with a few bullets, just for some added security, but you’re sure you didn’t kill her. She’s on to you.

You run the possibilities through your head and falter for a moment. You move to return to the boat. Where was once open courtyard is now a solid stone wall in front of your face. A glance back, and there’s stone walls there too. You seem to be trapped on three sides, with the only obvious solution to go forward.

You take one step, and the very Earth shakes. The walls waver as a faint dot in the distance grows larger. Larger and larger, headed right at you down the labyrinth.

A trap… No, an illusion. An illusion cannot harm you. An illusion cannot defeat you. Smoke and mirrors are no match for training and weaponry!

You stand your ground as it gets closer and closer, faster with every moment. One hand out as if to signal it to stop. Commanding, demanding. You will it.

Cease.

The boulders shatters as it strikes your hand.

The boulder melts away. The walls melt away. An illusion cannot harm you. An illusion cannot defeat you. Smoke and mirrors are no match for training and weaponry!

“My, my. You’ve bested one trap.”

You turn to look, not drawing your weapon. You know its futility. This battle will be resolved differently than that.

She floats across the air, seated in a bench. Wobbling on its axes, it mocks reality as she mocks you.

“I have bested more. Hundreds, even. You think you can compare to even one of them?”

She tilts her head, smiling vaguely.

“The number is more like thousands, dear. Do you think you can compare to all of them?”

She just smiles harder. That godawful evil smile. She keeps smiling as the bench flips over, twisting and distorting. Thousands of groans arising from the earth, each succinctly different from the next. An orchestra of the dead.

“I am them! They are me! Come and see, what’s to be!”

Her figure disappears amongst the rising spirits. Brief outlines of people, furious and trembling. Hundreds… No, she was right. Thousands. A quick glance confirms that you are surrounded. So that’s how it will be.

You release your glock’s magazine and insert a fresh one, holstering it for the AA-12. You check the slide and confirm all is in order. One glance up, and they’re still standing off at a distance.

“Well? Come on then!”

You fire indiscriminately into the mass. Shot rips through their ranks, spirits dissipate, and they fall upon you. Thrashing, striking, blocking. You elbow one while swinging to mow down another dozen, tearing through one with your teeth while kicking down another. They swarm you, forcing you down, forcing themselves upon you as you tear at them.

The world going dark. All you can do is fight.




A thrusting uppercut, you tear away the strap of his rifle as he stumbles back. You follow with one step, flipping the knife in your hand as you fall upon him. No longer thrusting, stabbing. You tear down and through his bowels in half a second. The rapport of Kalashnikovs ring out as they all get to work. Turn, kick, and you’ve disarmed another in a whole of two seconds. He goes for his pistol. You go for the ballistic knife. Offhand draw, quick aim. It plugs him right in the throat, and he too goes down.

You level your weapon- No threats. Lower again. Breathe the fumes. Scan the floor. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. No cleanup required.

“Should’ve hit with the thermobarics, first.”

You give no answer, content to inhale the scent of battle. Inwardly, you agree. There is nothing to disagree with. It would have been the better plan. But this… this is so much more appeasing.

“We should move. We are supposed to be in position above Grozny in two hours.”

That you can agree with.


“Fire.”

Brilliant streaks of white and red across the night sky. Like so many rays of light. One and another, and another, and another. One for each little tank. It’s just like Christmas.

The buzz of rotor blades whips you as your support egresses. You? You will walk out. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe in a few weeks. Till it is done.

Little did you know that it would take three years and 850 hostages.


The hostages, yes. The hostage takers. Your responsibility. Your burden. The blood from the womb, the knife in your hands.

You remember.

You remember.

All fall before you. There is nothing that can stop you. Nothing.

You reach out and press your hand against the bloodstained wall. It’s so cold. It is…

Saigyou.

It is clear now. The walls wash away. The bodies wash away. The blood washes away.

Yukari was never here. It was an illusion. It was all an illusion.

You run your hand down Saigyou’s decaying trunk and remember a line from an American film.

“We must stop meeting like this.”

Yes. You must.

You draw your knife and thrust. Stab, rend, destroy.


There is nothing that can stop you. Nothing.









You find the charms, and stuff an entire sack full of them. The walls begin to crumble as prepare to leave. Stone cracks. Gates crash. The dilapidated state it had been in earlier turns to wholly ruin. The few structures that exist collapse in upon themselves. As you leave the ethereal underworld, you know that its destruction is complete.

So you march.

Across the Sanzu. Past the Human Village. To the base of that mountain of Youkai.

You struggle into camp some time nearing midnight. You jump at the first sight of movement, almost quickdrawing a few rounds into Youmu’s chest. She seems oblivious.

She doesn’t say anything, though. She just stares for a moment. Looks.

Then she comes over to you, and takes your pack. Struggles to hold it under the weight, but she marches next to you. If you can call that a march. Back at training she’d be taken aside and beaten, but today… not today.

The two of you deposit your gear all over. You open the sack of charms and sort them into equally numbered piles. Of course they’re blank. You’re not actually sure what you’re supposed to do with the-

One shines in Youmu’s hand as she holds it. You snatch it from her.

Japanese. Domain of Youmu Konpaku.

You flash it in front of her face.

“Firstly, don’t waste them. Secondly, tell me how to do that.”

She seems confused.

“Tell me. How to do that.”

You say, a bit more assertively. She picks one up and looks at it.

“Think.”

“Think?”

It shines in her hand. You take it. Domain of Youmu Konpaku.

It irks you. She just stares at you like it’s obvious. You should hit her. You should break a limb or two to make her understand. But you don’t exactly have the energy to fight if she decides to resist.

So you pick up a charm. Think. Think… Think.

Domain.

It shines, it glows, it fucking works. Your domain. Yours! All yours!

You still have no clue what the hell this even does. But apparently it keeps Yukari out. And if it doesn’t, you have to kill a few Tengu. Who are you kidding? You’re gonna kill them all anyway. In a bit of black irony, you figure you might as well make them traceable back to the Tengu. If they kill each other, all the better.

But doing it one at a time isn’t going to work. You place your hand on the whole stack. One little thought, and it all shines metaphorical gold.

Yes, yes…

You check them, but they are all correct. All of them.

You grin like an idiot.

“Youmu…”

You say, putting your hand on her head.

“Go put these everywhere. I want one inside every bathroom. I want them on the tree trunks from the border to the mountain to the Humans’ walls.”

She picks them up, bows, and is off in a flash. Some of her famous speed. She is useful…

You glance over at the sleeping bag… and the sleeping vampire. She has not been useful yet. She must prove herself soon, or your patience – and your time – will run out.

But all that, perhaps, is thoughts for another day. You must sleep now. Your body is straining, and your mind is fatigued.

So you sit down with the crates to your back, staring at a fire that hasn’t been lit in days.




….




A branch snaps.

You’re awake.

You draw your pistol, the only weapon still on you. Another twig snaps. You glance left – Youmu’s sleeping. Shit.

You quickly determine the general direction of the intruder and put yourself on the other side of the crates. Aiming, scanning. Waiting.

Yukari pokes her head through. She’s trying to be stealthy. She’s not doing very well. The old man a step behind her, much quiet, but more alert. If it’s just those two… Time to put on a show. You holster the glock and stand up, revealing yourself.

“Morning to you too, assholes.”

Both of them freeze, but rather predictably only Yukari seems surprised. She also seems rather pissed. That’s either your special quality, or something’s working.

“The day after.”

Yukari declares, not caring to add on to the statement.

You just stand there for a moment. The usual staredown. This is not your concern, this time. However it is useful for pretending there is a normalcy. There is not.

You flex your neck and stroll over to the two fast asleep, yelling on the way.

“Up you two! Come on!”

You put a on a great show there, yelling. Anger, rage. In reality you’re gauging them. A careful eye on Yukari. The man tells you nothing. But Yukari is the weak one.

You kick through the sleeping bag, missing Youmu’s head by half an inch. That, along with the yelling, manages to get the two partially assembled. The vampire clings to the side of your other apprentice, but you’re all there.

You loosen your arm.

“Lucky number three, huh? Who do we need to kill, where do we need to go?”

Now it is her turn to laugh. She sneers.

“Look up.”

The other two idiots do, but you think you get her meaning.

“There’s things in those clouds!”

Youmu blurts, confirming your suspicions. Heaven. Celestials.

“Now this may come as a surprise to someone as stupid as you, Yukari, but I cannot fly.”

“Then bring them down to you.”

She mocks back. False confidence, or has she discovered your plot? Still you have to roll with it for now.

Get up there, or bring ‘em down…

Either works. But you need a plan.

[ ] ________________________
>> No. 47149
Time to take down Tenshi.

We are the Youkai of the Apocalypse. And we are inevitable.
>> No. 47159
[x] Bring ‘em down. With explosives. Explosives attached to weather balloons.
>> No. 47161
Can we get AA systems? I want a 120mm M1 battery or a SAM battery blowing the Heaven to pieces.

Otherwise, this option

[X] Use Flandre to blow up Heaven
>> No. 47162
>>47161

The fuck man

When I planned this I was specifically imagining using a 120 to fuck them up
>> No. 47163
>>47162
Be afraid, for I'm a psyker! Just coincidence, unless you were browsing through WW2 history while writing.

I was originally going for 88 Flak than I went "not enuff dakka" and found 120mm.

Changing vote to this
[X] Use 120mm battery tto blow up Heaven
>> No. 47165
>>47163

The germans also produced a 128! In dual mounts!

Haahahahahahah!


(no you can't have it. You said 120 now yer getting it if nobody else votes against you)
>> No. 47168
>>47165

Ask and ye shall recieve.

In other words, I vote for the 128.
>> No. 47173
[x] Dual 128mm AA battery.
-[x] And plenty of ammo.
>> No. 47178
>>47165
Give me dat 128.
[x] Dual 128mm AA battery.
-[x] And plenty of ammo.
>> No. 47540
Damnit Treia, where's my crazy Russian blowing Heaven to pieces with dual flack cannons?
>> No. 47644
File 135486625041.png - (1.73MB , 1400x1028 , 2ed3746c35dc5a8dc20a2b6bc8f5441d.png ) [iqdb]
47644
[X] 12.8cm FlaK Zwilling.

Heh. Hah. Hahahahaha…

“Okay.”

You nod your head. Yes. Yes you can bring them down to you. Oh you will. But you’ll need something different. Something grand for their supposed final act.

“I want a gun. I want a really big gun. A rifle, even. A barrel, a twin mount. The Germans have a word for that, you know. A fine word. Zwilling – Twin. A dual mount.”

She cocks her head, sneers.

“You really expect me to give you something like that?”

You silence her with a wave of the hand. Thinking, nodding. You say nothing, turn around and fish through your pack. You grab your pistol, audibly chamber a round, and hold it up next to your head.

“I expect you to stay out of my way.”

This’ll do. You snap to action.

“Youmu!”

You bark, brushing past Yukari and getting down to business.

“A weapon! A weapon! Let’s get started now, come on!”

You command an authority you didn’t know you had. It’s more than just the slavery, as Youmu jumps to attention. She tosses you a rifle as soon as you spout the words. The vampire hovers behind you, and you glance to see Yukari bowing to your will. What other reality can there be?

“Clear out!”

You demand, and with a wave of your arm, an expanse of the forest disintegrates. You nod to the eager vampire, and, not missing a step, slip your first rifle around your shoulder. Your hand scoops a Mauser right off the ground, and the 128 falls in around you.

The world pauses for a moment as you swing the rifle around, looking for the duo that’s not there. They cleared out while you weren’t looking, but no matter. A smile comes to your lips. This will be… fun.

“Man battery! Prepare for ranging fire!”

You yell, focused only on the mission now. No Yukari, no old man, no distractions, and nothing to stop you. Heaven is in front of you. But soon, it will be beneath your heel.

Let’s begin.

You fire.

“Elevation Sixty! Load HE!”

The mount swivels, loading and aiming. You listen to the wonderful creak of machinery as you focus on a single spot on the sky. Right where you should hit. You know not why, just that it should be there.

“Clear the sky.”

An Earth-shaking round goes off. Leaves rain down upon you. A solitary round streaks high into the air, seemingly hanging in midair before it goes off. The clouds part, tumultuous winds parting the Heavens. That’s it!

“Fire two!”

The words don’t leave your mouth before a bolt of lightning streaks past you, singing the side of your face as it tears apart the mount in a fireball. There’s a visible movement in the sky. You throw aside the useless bolt-action, and take the first rifle from your shoulder.

“Youmu! Keep me supplied!”

You yell, motioning to the mount, visually scanning for her.

“Okay!”

You hear back from the other side. The other side. The one without the mount.

You don’t get a chance to think about it. Thunder cracks. Lightning roars. They’re coming.

“Heeeeere’s Johnny!”

You scream, spraying into the approaching tempest. The squall zigs and zags randomly through the air towards your group. It tears through the tops of a dozen trees, smashes into the ground and rips in between you and Youmu before circling around to miss the vampire girl. You change magazines to a new one that Youmu throws you, and jump after it.

A pause at the ridge above it. It takes half a second to level your rifle, but less time for it to split in two, going different directions. You curse, swing your rifle to track, and stare into the cold eyes of a celestial.

Rude morning.”

Tenshi Hinanawi. Spoiled brat of the heavens. Today, she’s made a mistake.

“You shouldn’t have brought a sword to a gun fight!”

You loose a few rounds, and she brings her sword up to absorb them. You’d almost expect that, by now. She raises it overhead-

You leap aside as she creates a crevice for a mile back, right along where you had been standing. The force also breaks up the three-girl tango further back in the camp. Flandre finds herself separated from Youmu, still trying to hit the other celestial, to no avail.

You snap back to Tenshi, just in time to dodge a second swipe. This one, horizontal, brings down a hundred trees all up the mountain. It’s becoming clear that this isn’t your kind of fight.

“Youmu! Take her!”

You barely believe what you’re saying, but swing around just as quick. Youmu speeds past you, as she goes to fight Tenshi, and you go back to fight the other. There’s a thunderous clap behind you as you go into the attack.

Flandre streaks in from the left, and this other celestial deflects her. Again, it seems, as a growl reaches your ear along with Flandre’s rag-dolling body. You duck past it and bring the rifle up. This one flourishes, shades of her dress circling her. You watch your bullets disappear into them. Damnable things.

You toss your rifle aside and continue to point blank with a knife draw. Down thrust, she inflects. Horizontal slash, she ducks. Inward, she bats your arm up and kicks you in the gut.

You stagger just long enough to be out of range as Flandre comes in again. The two tangle in an awesome fight for half a second before again, the celestial bats her away. In that same moment, however, she latches onto the celestial’s arm.

You see your opportunity, and spring right back in. You abandon the knife, and go at her with your fists. You crush her nose with your first hit, incapacitating her with a throat hit to the second, and sending her spinning with a third.

You glance aside to see Youmu and Tenshi deadlocked, trading near-blows with their swords in an incredible display.

“Kill her!”

You shout. A mistake. Youmu looks in your direction. She’s distracted for a moment. There’s a loud rattle as Tenshi takes this moment to disarm her foe.

You’re too far to help. Youmu’s helpless, at the mercy of an enemy. Tenshi senses this too. You all do. Everything stops. Except for that growling. A low growling, besides Flandre’s. She’s staring at something though, and you look too. The bloodied face of the second celestial, having crawled out of its clothes, transforming into a grotesque sight. A Chinese dragon, or at least a gross attempt at one, in imitation of the gods she serves.

Well they’ve surrounded you, or so. Parity at two to two? Tch… fools.

“Take her alone, Vampire. It’ll be good practice.”

You turn, and again go in the opposite direction as one of your slaves goes into the fight. Flandre passes you as you spring back towards Tenshi and Youmu. Youmu dives to you, and you down to her sword, Tenshi a step behind your follower.

You immediately move to block with the sword, barely stopping a blow from the celestial. The force of the attack forces you on to one knee, and you brace your second hand on its back to better weather it. You cringe as she raises her magic sword and brings it down again, almost breaking your block. She raises for a third, and you think, for a moment, that you will be bested.

Youmu returns just in time, shielding above you with her second sword. You quickly back out and right yourself, securely wielding your weapon and coming in from the side. It’s a glorious sight. You and Youmu going in with a sword each. Tenshi is forced back, repeatedly. You swing, she blocks. Youmu swings, and she blocks again, but barely. You’re on her again, and she has to concede ground. You continue attacking her, relentlessly, turning the tables completely. You continue until she’s on her knee, trying to stop both of you.

This time it is you who disarms her. Defiance flashes across her face before you bring your sword down to her face. Stopping, barely, just an inch above her forehead.

She gasps. You smirk, and then kick her head aside. You grind your boot into the side of her head, making her eat ground.

You turn to see the false dragon and your vampire going at it. Its curling body struggles as the vampire darts in and out, but fails to inflict any serious damage. Youmu watches too. She moves to help, but you grab her by the shoulder.

“If she cannot even best this small one, I do not want her. She will handle it alone.”

The dirt beneath your boots dares to resist a bit, so you crush it with a sneer. That lets you draw your full attention back to the battle at hand.

You hand a sword back to Youmu, who gingerly resheathes her weaponry. You stand next to her, watching the two duke it out. The dragon’s body flips, slamming through trees and boulders. The little vampire deftly dodges, goes in and tears through a side’s scales. But draws no blood. They spiral together into the air, trying to outmaneuver each other. You have to sidestep as a good chunk of mountain debris passes you, but otherwise they fail to do anything. And again. And again they come together, and neither is worse for it. Nothing at all. Except that wistful vampire flips around… and sees both you just watching.

She pauses. An odd look on her face. She’s confused. Upset, clearly. Excited and lusting for blood.

And then the dragon’s jaws close around her. She’s drawn up into the air, then smashed into the ground in between the dragon’s jaws. She’s shaken back and forth, almost in a death roll. For good measure, the dragon smashes up and down a few more times. You wait. Wait. It seems it’s over. How disappointing.

The dragon emits an audible groan. Its jaw explodes in a shower of body parts, raining blood down upon both of you. A horrible little ball of hate streaks out. You can only grin and nod your head as she goes to work, tearing at its eyes. It roars, shaking and trying to roll away. But there is a huge hole in its jaw, and the wounds only grow with every passing second. She whizzes around, and blood spurts from a new gash. You watch those vampiric teeth go to work, and she takes entire chunks from its body.

It thrashes. Up and down, around and around. It takes flight.

And it flies away.

You don’t realize for a moment, but it’s running scared. It’s simply bolted, heading for its heaven sanctuary in a beeline. The vampire remains attacking it, nearly pulling it out of the sky, but you remain grounded.

“Fuck!”

You yell, springing to action. You grab Tenshi’s sword, and bring a whole section of the mountain down as a bridge to follow. Youmu runs around you, trying to help but succeeding only at being useless. Boulders scream down the mountain past you as a huge new mountain piles up to follow them. In between the weapon crates flying past your face you, somehow, manage to grab a parachute out of the air.

And you simply break out into a dead run, following those two. The battle continues right into the clouds. You don’t even think, you just continue on after them, and they hold your weight just fine. Youmu rejoins you, deftly landing next to you in a great leap from the ground below. The celestial dragon, now almost dead, barely struggles to fight towards a pair of structures. A large shrine, and a gate.

The vampire takes all pleasure in its kill, content to walk alongside the beast and tear chunks at leisure. It nudges further, just a bit. Just a little bit. You realize, perhaps a bit too late, how desperate it is.

Its nose barely touches the gate, which flies open to a blinding light.

You throw your arm up to shield your eyes, ducking behind parts of the dragon’s tail for cover. Your view is filled with an infinite number of small, darting things.

They swarm for the vampire, intent on revenge. All you can do is shoot into the mass, each bullet bringing down an increasing pile of small dragons. But there’s more. A lot more. Youmu cuts into the air as they seem to enclose you, getting ever closer and closer. You just keep shooting.

“It’s a slaughter!”

You yell, bringing them down in scores.

But you can’t kill them all. You find yourself on your feet. Swinging left and right, shooting more. They bump you from behind, and skirt your side. And as the mass closes into you, you find yourself lifted up, off the ‘ground’.

“Shit.”

The heavens disappear. The clouds disappear. The ground, however, is quite clearly down there.

And they let you go. And it’s getting closer, now.

A dozen more curses are lost in the wind. You try in vain to give a few parting shots into the air, clutching your parachute closely to your chest. Options depleted, outlook bleak. You pull the ripcord.

A drone chute opens. Just a drone chute. You slow down a bit, but the ground is still awful fast. You grasp for another cord, barely holding on to the pack as is. The full chute nearly tears your arm off, but you hold. You hold, and grit back any pain, and brace, because you’re still quite speedy.

You smash through trees, and fly sideways for a moment as a gust of wind picks you up. Then it’s time to fight the ground, and the ground always wins. But you’re alive.

You stare up at blank, blue sky, in between green leaves. One hand grasps for the heavens, but the other holds tight, a small vial grasped between torn fingers. You had grabbed it from the celestial right before she was ended, but… you’re not sure what it is. You know what it is. It’s what they want. That is known to you. You just do not know what it is. It’s #3, and it’s unknown.

You stand, and orientate yourself. You’re on the far side of the village, near Kourindou. It’s a long way to the camp. And the heaven? You don’t know what happened.

All you know is that something has come to an end. Something. You hold the vial up to the sky, letting light shine through it. Clear liquid. The only concern you have is what to do with it.

[ ] The shopkeeper at Kourindou is reputed to be able to determine the purpose and name of any object… and here you have just such a mysterious object.

[ ] Destroy it. In such a battle, who’s to say what really happened to such a small thing? And taking one piece of a puzzle… what better way to cripple your overlords?
>> No. 47645
[X] The shopkeeper at Kourindou is reputed to be able to determine the purpose and name of any object… and here you have just such a mysterious object.
>> No. 47646
[x] The shopkeeper at Kourindou is reputed to be able to determine the purpose and name of any object… and here you have just such a mysterious object.
>> No. 47647
Glorious.
>> No. 47648
[x] The shopkeeper at Kourindou is reputed to be able to determine the purpose and name of any object… and here you have just such a mysterious object.

I hope Youmu and Flandre survived, somehow.
>> No. 47649
>>47647

If you tell me what parts you liked, I might be able to do more in the future.


Better get your suggestions in now, comrade... there's not much left! We're approaching the end.
>> No. 47650
>>47649
It depends on whether you would be amused or offended if I had said I had liked everything and couldn't point out anything specific.
>> No. 47651
>>47650

Oh nonsense. I could never HATE my readers, or begrudge them. Because then I would hate myself because of all the time I spent here.


And that would be bad, yes. So bad. Oh so bad.
>> No. 47726
>>47651

>>47650 here
Is there any way you could tell me what other stuff you have written? Both of the stories of yours that I have read (this one and the Aya collab with Moral) have been utterly fantastic, and I am dying to read more.

Oh, as far as stuff I would have liked to see more of, more sniper rifle stuff would have been about it. Not too sure how good of an idea that is though.
>> No. 47728
>>47726

Check /shorts/ for recent stuff. Also one over in /eientei/. Of course the storylist is available at the top of the page (link: http://www.touhou-project.com/storylist.php ). Just ctrl+f for Treia. I don't use any other names.


I don't think we have any more sniper rifle portions lined up. Honestly... there's not too much left, not too much at all.
>> No. 47729
>>47728

Oh let's not forget my main* story in /th/. Just check the storylist for that one, most recent thread is a few pages back.


*Sadly neglected at the moment. But it does contain sniper rifles! At at least one point.
>> No. 47778
What inspires a man to write a "story" like this? More importantly, how can it receive such praise?
I just don't understand it.
>> No. 47785
>>47778

Obsession. And commonality.

I think I said it before, but this was a oneshot. A thing to be done, savored and sat on as a single stroke. Oh but I came back. And again, and again, and we drew it out a bit more. Ah... I can tell you all about the writing process soon. When I do the Q&A. I think we'll only have 2 or 3 more updates until this is done.
>> No. 47813
Hey Treia, where has Moral disappeared to? You said that you and Moral are writing that newspaper story, but Moral hasn't updated any story for months.
>> No. 47819
>>47785
Methinks it should have stayed a one-shot.
I'll wait for the Q&A. Maybe I'll catch it while it's actually going on, but probably not.
>> No. 47839
>>47813
That's a very good question.
>> No. 47964
>>47813

He's alive.

>>47819

I've some mixed feelings on the story overall (and some notable highs). I'll be free to talk about all of that in the Q&A, sure.

>>47839

State secret.
>> No. 48300
Okay this update should be coming along soon.

I was stumped at how our hero is supposed to have a human conversation with Rinnosuke. Literally stumped. But I coalesced my notes and worked it out. It's all straightforward from here.
>> No. 48580
File 136296909149.jpg - (138.25KB , 707x1000 , image.jpg ) [iqdb]
48580
Waiting...
I REALLY hope Youmu survived,your brainwashed version of her is awesome.Pic more or less related.
>> No. 48591
>>48580
I am angry.
Angry that this story is unhidden for some reason, angry at you for bumping it, and angry about being told about/you liking brainwashed Youmu.
You can learn from one of these things.
>> No. 48877
>>48580
Why you do this anon?
>> No. 49921
File 136853515879.jpg - (517.42KB , 850x914 , cd54321ba829b3fcd4bcbf5bee387dc3.jpg ) [iqdb]
49921
[X] The shopkeeper at Kourindou is reputed to be able to determine the purpose and name of any object… and here you have just such a mysterious object.

You take a moment to work out a few cramps. A twist there, a limber here.

A quick check for weapons on hand comes up empty. You lost everything during the fight or the way down. Better be quick moving. Don’t want to attract some feral Youkai and wind up their dinner.

You crouch low, moving between trees. Sure, it might seem silly to someone who hasn’t been through these woods. Someone who hasn’t seen a man torn in half by a berserk animal.

You slip quietly out into the meager clearing surrounding the shop. It’s but practically two strides and you are at the door, junk piled on either side. You open and close it in half a second, setting it back with the slightest click. The Youkai… the half-Youkai has not noticed your presence. He remains at his counter, boredly resting his chin on one hand and holding a book open with another, eyes lazily scanning the page. You hold up the vial and take a step forward, the floor creaking.

He notices.

“What is in this vial, shopkeeper?”

You carefully watch his expression, ready to pounce over the counter at a moment’s notice. If this truly is something extraordinary… who knows what half a beast will do for it? He shows no interest, though, barely noting your silent entry.

“I don’t deal in breakables. Buy something or leave.”

You snatch the book out of his hand and toss it behind you. He remains perfectly still, as if frozen. Only his nose twitching into a sneer gives any response at all.

“Let’s not ask twice.”

You wave it in front of his face, snatching it away as he grabs for it. Only carefully do you extend it to him, watching his movement. He takes it, holds it in the air, looks carefully. And grunts.

“Water. Have you more of my time to waste?”

“Water?”

Water. Yes. Water. Water it could be. Yes, yes you are in agreement. You nod.

Yes, water.

Water.

He, on the other hand, merely stares, thoroughly unamused.

“I’ll take that.”

You snatch the vial, and place it back into your outer jacket.

Then it is. Water.

Then your captors have played you. They have not worked for their own gain. They have worked for your loss. They have played you against foes to see you destroyed. They have conspired and schemed and wrought, but you have persevered. You have murdered, killed, and obliterated all before you. And now you shall do the same to them.

You’ll need a gun.

“It is dangerous to go it alone.”

“Yes. Quite.”

As if it called to you. A pistol upon the shelves, the single reality of this untrue world.

You seize it, cock it. It shall serve you well.

“Thank you, shopkeeper.”

You turn, but he is gone. So is that half of the store. You turn again, and it is all gone. But you have the gun.

This world is truly a hellish place.

A shrill cry rings from the forest. You drop, scanning, but see nothing.

Can’t stay here. You keep posture for a moment, staying alert for sounds, but there’s nothing. You can feel them, though. Moving around you. Probing for any weakness.

You’re being watched.

Break. You go flat out in the direction of the village. The forest screams behind you, trees bending in odd directions as the villains chase after you. They won’t catch up in time, though, you’ve reckoned in half a second. Just break through the underbrush, a dead heat to the perimeter and-

You skid to a stop amongst the flat, grassy outskirts of the village.

Where was once a wooden palisade is now a towering cliff, extending far up into the heavens. Perfectly uniform, stretching in both directions as far as you can see. The village should be here, but it is not. And this… this should not be here.

A crash in the brush brings back your attention. You leap away from the forest, scanning the trees for your pursuers. Your back to the wall, at least they’ll have to overrun you, now.

You snap your pistol at every rustle, every brush. It seems the entire forest has come alive for this occasion. What are they expecting, a bloodbath? You’ll give them one.

Rays of light break through the forest line, followed by a lantern suspended at the end of a long pole. A very long pole. You wait for its other end to appear, scanning left and right in case it’s a distraction.

Spot. Double tap. You put two into a chest. The figure continues unmolested. You balk, but go right back to your instincts. Slide check. Third one’s not a blank. Aim, and another through the chest.

Right through. With no effect.

You lower your weapon, now obvious that even if you want to shoot to kill, you cannot.

You keep careful watch of the figure, which has not reacted in any manner to your shooting. It simply shuffles forward mindlessly. The figure is at once an old man and a hooded figure, wavering between ethereal inexistence and a vague outline of a person.

And it is not alone. A half-dozen figures follow the first, a ghastly procession of what is supposed to be a funeral, as the third and fourth shuffle along carrying a coffin above their heads. A burial procession of the dead. For the dead.

They bare you no heed, and you sidestep out of the way of the very slowly moving procession. But they continue towards the wall. For a moment, you think they will go up the wall, but at once they disappear in a faint puff of smoke as the figure in the front reaches the wall.

In that same moment, a bell begins to ring in the distance.

You are called. They have sent an invitation, and you have received it.

You fear no man, beast, spirit, dragon, celestial, or any of the other things you’ve killed lately. If they seek your death, they will receive death.

Besides, it’s not like you see any other way out of this godforsaken forest. This cliff-face is new, and so it seems that you’ve already been drawn to the forest’s illusions. You’ll have to fight your way out.

You take a moment to check your ammunition count – deplorable – and become a bit more familiar with your weapon’s ergonomics. With this done, you should be able to snap to any incoming threats easier. Not that you’ll get too many of them with a single magazine, but the ones you do hit will be dead.

There is little else to do, though. You must enter the forest.

You focus on the sound of the bell, persistent as ever. Orient yourself, scan the treeline.

Into the maelstrom.



The bell tolls, and it tolls for thee.

On your left, then your right. Above and behind you. It makes no sense, but you’re aware not to listen to it past the first ring. It is trying to trick you, confuse you, mislead you.

This forest will turn you in circles until you collapse, then eagerly wait to devour your famished corpse.

It is not the only danger. Shadows flicker at the edge of your site. The slightest movement or crash. But turning to look is futile. It is always accompanied by a feminine giggle, echoing through the trees and lapping at just the edge of your hearing. It is at once many, and at the same time a single mocking laugh.

The Fae are out tonight. Pray they do not choose to play.

The bell tolls, and it tolls for thee.

It does not mislead now, and simply signals for you straight ahead.

The closer you get, the more the forest whines. Wind whistling between the trees. The trees themselves grow sparse, ugly, and dying. Gnarled and twisted branches that stretch in every direction block your path with increasing frequency. You push through them at first, then realize that they are moving as well. They move with your presence, pulling away as you move towards those who have summoned you.

You are stopped by a solid mass of branches. You place your hand on them, but they will let you proceed no further.

No.

It will let you proceed no further. It is curious. It has called you.

What is it?

This is it.

This branch is no branch at all. It is a root. Although it is several feet in width. And it extends far.

You turn, following it around. One hand on it, it guides you in.

The remaining trees are all dead. Barren, their bark stripped. Tops gone. The soil itself seems to have shriveled into waste, an ugly black visage of mockery.

Then you come upon the actual waste. Garbage which seems to have proliferated, migrated to this area. Plastics, trash, and litter ingrained into the landscape. The area seems to have been corrupted for no point but corruption.

You’ve seen enough. You look ahead for an opening, and scurry under the monstrous roots that form a barrier.

A gust of wind forces you to throw your arm up to block your face. That voice tickles your ears. You brace yourself as the wind dies, and you glance past your arm.

It is magnificent. It is familiar. It is just like you.

Stretching upwards against blackened sky. It is a dying tree, reminiscent of what Saigyou should have been. Great branches stretch in every direction. Its roots flay the earth, creating a mountainous landscape inside the grotto. And upon its branches sit not one, not a dozen, but a hundred Fae.

Horrible beasts, they are. They take the form of young children, male and female. Nude, serene, they think themselves nymphs. Their mouths open in a perpetual laugh, their eyes gone – replaced only by the bloody sockets of what should be.

We… welcome a brother.”

The voice arises not from the Fae, nor the tree, but from all around you. It does come from the tree, you suppose. But this tree is everything, and nothing. It is the forest.

“I got this thing against evil trees, y’know?”

This is going to be a hell of a fight when it turns ugly. You’ve already identified the ten closest Fae, but you’re not sure what the tree is going to do.

“We seek the same goal, brother.”

Last time you worked with an evil tree, it just didn’t turn out so great. You had to stab someone, and all. Not that you don’t enjoy that, but you were doing so well shooting them.

“What goal would that be?”

As far as you’re concerned, your goals are your own. There are those who are subordinate to you, and there are those that oppose you. There is no middle ground.

“Power. Control…

The grotto shakes as roots uproot themselves and the tree visibly shifts. Touchy, touchy.

Of course it’s better that he gets ready. You have no intention of ceding anything to him, or anyone.

“You know what the problem with control is? There can only be one person at the top. That’s gonna be me.”

The shaking stops. The Fae all turn to stare directly at you. All is quiet.

“Then you reject our alliance.”

“Sucks to be you.”

A roar explodes from all around you. You have only moments to jump aside before the tree begins its assault, crushing the area you were just standing on.

In seconds it has become a running battle. You scramble up a root as the forest shifts around you, stopping only to shoot down two Fae. Holding on with one hand, shooting with the other, the root goes through the air, twisting wildly in an attempt to throw you off.

You see through the furor clearly, and quickly leap across to another root even as the tree seems to implode around you. It’s becoming quite clear that your handicap is only going to grow the longer the fight lasts. You’re down to a few bullets, and there is no end to the Fae, nor the fury of the forest. A drastic move is necessary.

We will devour you!

From under the rooted masses of the Forest’s essence appears a blackened pit. Fashioned like a child’s crude imitation of a demon’s mouth, it is splayed out like the abyss itself. But it is said: as you gaze into the abyss, so too does it gaze into you.

Let it watch, for it shall be powerless to resist you.

You let go, kicking right off your support and intending to head straight in. One on one in the belly of the beast is an infinitely better proposition than a million to one.

It knows what you intend. The demon’s mouth begins to shut as you hurtle toward the ground at terminal velocity, but it will not close in time. The Fae speed ahead of you, intending to delay you. But you shall not be stopped, pulling off an incredible display of aerial marksmanship as you speed downwards. You tag half a dozen, and crash through the remnants of the rest.

Nothing else stands before you.

There is yourself, and there is darkness. A hundred feet and two seconds separate you.

I am the monster!





It is black, and then it is blacker still. You did not die then, and you will not die now. You will not die today, and you will not die forever.

You strike out in every direction, tearing at the walls of your confines. You rail against these walls.

Be… devoured.

It thinks it has you. The poor fool.

“I’m not trapped in here with you! You’re trapped in here with me!"

It pushes, you push back harder. Here, within the belly of the beast, there is no other consideration. You must fight. You will fight.

You are nothing, compared to me.

Who does he think he is? What does he think he is?

“I live! I breathe! Soon even your charade will be destroyed!”

Breathe? We do not breathe!

You tear down the sort of wall in front of you, to reveal more of the same. It seems an endless abyss, but you know there’s something there. You’re searching for it. Its heart, maybe. Something it needs. Something you will take.

“You won’t, soon! You’ll die, today!”

Die? I am not afraid of death. I have died before, and become the thousand souls of this forest. I have learned much since then. Should I die again I will be immortal, eternal! I invite you, bear me to greater heights! Allow me to stand upon your corpse, as I stand upon dozens other before you!

The walls that hem you in retract to show what you were looking for. It is indeed a heart. A thoroughly blackened, corrupted thing. An insane representation of this perversion of nature and man.

All you hear is “Kill me.” You shall be happy to oblige. You raise to fire. You will kill it. You will destroy it, end it, erase it from existence. Burn the records, sow salt across its lands, deny it.

In that moment you are focused to a knifepoint. Vehemently eager to kill.

In that moment you are focused to a knifepoint. Deathly afraid to die.

It shall be destroyed. We shall be destroyed. The will makes it so. There is not death, but obliteration. Our heart shall be destroyed, but it is oblivion we fear.

You are falling. The forest is burning.

You are burning. The mountain is exploding.

A bullet tears through your heart.

Flames lick at your skull.

You deny.

There something.

There is nothing.

There is You.

Howling against the abyss.

Clawing your way out of obliteration. Bleeding out, strength fading into oblivion.

You grab hold of the thread. You grab hold of the tree.

Your back pumping, as supports your pulling. Your blood spilling, as you paint your canvas.

We shall live; We shall be reborn.

You shall find yourself anew among the mountain.

You shall be interred inside this tree.

You are reborn, and you set upon your unfinished task.

You are forcing them to their knees, committing the cruelest of atrocities.

You are bringing them your cruelty, spreading your roots through the forest.

It is possible, you make it possible.

You are many, uncountable and legion.

You are one, unstoppable and all-being.

You fly through the forest, raining death on those who intrude.

How could you be stopped?

It is impossible; you make it impossible.

You stalk through the bamboo, intruding to rain death.

How could you be missed?

It is possible; we make it possible.

You clawed your way out of death, so sure were you that you could not be killed.

She shot right through you, so sure were you that you could not be stopped.

You beat them all, so sure were you that you were the strongest.

“Did you really think your sister hellspawn would be so easy to kill?” She is speaking to you.

You are speaking to him, “We… welcome a brother.”

We are evil spirits. Man, once, perhaps. Through your unstoppable mania you have bent reality to your will, denied your own death, and brought yourself to immense power. You have consumed many already in your quest to the top, and the list is only going to grow.

That is to say, your list shall grow. You, not we, not he, nor him, nor another. He is finished.

“There can only be one person at the top. That’s gonna be me.”

You punch through the wood collapsed on top of you, now knowing that you may sweep it or anything else aside like a mere playtoy. You pull yourself out of the remains of your kin as scorched bits of him crash around you. He was right, in a way. He was not afraid of death. Not at the last moment, as you held him below the water, staring into him and he into you, for you are the monster and he was the abyss.

You shall not be, either. How could you be? You are invincible. Immortal, eternal. You stand upon his corpse, as you stand upon dozens of others. You could make it zero, or infinite, or any number of whoever you please. You could bring them back to life, erase their existence, or anything in between. All you need do is will it. Hard enough, long enough, and what you desire is what shall transpire.

You look up at the sky, choked out by a thousand blackened stacks of smoke combining to suffocate the world in its entirety. Flaming bits of tree and debris rain down among you like meteors from the unseen heavens. All that is not burning lay dying, and those that do not lay dying lie already dead.

You wave a hand and clear away the smokescreen. Your business – all your unfinished business – lay upon the mountain. Nearly a quarter of it is gone from your previous fight upon its slopes. But you have another fight to finish there, and either during or after it, you shall ensure that the entire mountain is gone.

You holster your weapon and begin to whistle, stepping over Fae and tree alike.

“Oh, oh, I am-a’ comin’ home. Tell the world, for I am-a’ comin’ home.”





Snap, a branch cracks.

You can hear them swarming around you. You can see them.

You are walking into their trap, and they are walking into your trap.

It comes as no surprise when the voice rings out, lined with archers on both sides.

“Halt!”

A large body of Wolf Tengu stand in front of you, the Crows on both flanks with arrows drawn. You must be outnumbered 100:1 or more.

“Stand down, Human. We want what your employer has sent you to fetch. We know you have it.

Hrmph. Of course. Your pitting of the Tengu against Yukari inevitably led to conflict while you weren’t looking. And now, they seek what she seeks, doubtlessly an immortality-imbuing absolutely normal vial of water. She fooled them much more than she fooled you, it seems.

You jingle the vial in your coat.
“No.”

Their leader seems taken aback for a moment. Nonetheless he recovers and draws his sword.

“Then you shall surely be destroyed.”

“Do you know who I am? Do you know what I am?”

[ ] Crush them.

[ ] Lead them on.
>> No. 49922
Thus making evil telepathic trees a staple of this story.

Two updates remain. Three if I make an epilogue (unsure). This is your last real choice. Blitzing to the end, engage...
>> No. 49923
[x] Lead them on.
>> No. 49925
>“I’m not trapped in here with you! You’re trapped in here with me!"
Oh boy that that was one hell of a ride. The coming home part really had me go oh shit.

[x] Lead them on.

There is always a place and a time for such things.
>> No. 49926
[x] Crush them.
>> No. 49931
[x] Lead them on.
>> No. 50009
[x] Crush them.
THE TENGU MUST DIE.
>> No. 52413
File 137461448038.jpg - (664.83KB , 850x843 , 66755d04bbf2e80b29cd54060762a3759628a4e0.jpg ) [iqdb]
52413
[X] Lead them on.

They are coming.

Do you feel it?

How could you not?

Thundering toward us all.

Do you hear it?

How could you not?

The cold grasp of death is closing in.

Don’t you see it?

How could you?

Fools.

“I command the Demon of the East, and the Guardian of Souls. I have killed all of you – twice over – but a life ago. I am the very incarnation of your destruction. And you intend to stand against me?”

“Archers!”

He raises his hand, they draw their bows.

Fools.

A slice and a scream stop the whole procession. They look, but you need not.

“H-Help… help me!...”

He tries to speak through the gaping chest wound, slowly sliding down the spear holding him through the air. He stares at it in wide-eyed amazement, only half aware that he is dying, likely divorced from reality as much as the bloodflow is now cut from his brain.

With a flick of the wrist she sends the body hurling through tree tops, reducing it and the trees to little more than shreds. It is, of course, your newest slave. A spectacular entrance, really. As she steps through the lines the tengu next to her scatter in panic at the ragged site. Torn clothes and soaked in blood. Would you have her any other way?

“Are we playing with master? I want to play. Too.”

The lines tremble. The leader shakes. They are such bad soldiers. Such ignorant folk. Hated creatures. They need to die. They need to be exterminated.

He does get one thing down, though. Between the screaming and the panic he points straight at you, commanding and demanding and mandating.

“Archers! Archers, kill him now!”

They just don’t get it, do they?

Fools.

A hundred or more arrows fill the sky. They’re coming right for you. They will never arrive. In those few seconds, you know it. The crack of a distant branch. The sound of distant running. The whispers of power. She will arrive, just in time.

200 Yojana in a Slash!

Like a bat out of hell.

The arrows flitter to the ground in little pieces, in between your muscle and the flabbergasted enemy. Her sheathes click as she puts away her swords and looks over her shoulder for guidance. Looking at you. Such a good girl.

You nod and motion at the whole lote of them.

“Go ahead. Kill them. Kill them all.”

The click of sword sheaths.

The tune of screams.

The sound of blade cutting bone.

Ah, such a good girl.

She hovers next to you. The vampire. She watches, mouth agape, fangs showing, fascination beaming. It seems she cannot decide if the order is for her to help or to protect you. Hrmph. She will, eventually, fall in. The other has. They all do.

“They are just toys. I’ll have a real opponent for you soon.”

You mention, watching her reaction. Every twitch, every motion. A facsimile smile across her face.

“I don’t mind if you break them.”

She immediately breaks from you, bolting after one of the many fleeing masses. She swoops into their ranks like her primeval brethren, snatching him out of the crowd and into the sky. He is torn to pieces even before she comes bombing down, smashing the remnants into little more than a skidmark across the land.

All this while the girl corrals them. Like cows, beasts for the slaughter. She appears, cuts them down, disappears and reappears again! First they run this way, then that way, all to your whim.

It is decided. They must die. Oh, the tengu must die. All of them. Indiscriminately. Painfully, brutally. Spectacularly, perhaps. But it is uncouth to leave the killing to your subordinates.

You reach into your jacket and pull out a pistol. Ready. Loaded. A weapon that should not exist. It was not there. But it is, now. It was. You have made it so. A simple fact of reality brushed aside by your conviction, and a touch of necessity.

Such a convenient thing, all this power.

How far can you take it? Leaping like the banshee into their midst, crushing ribcages. Felling the whole crowd with a wave of your arm. Choking the life out of him, their leader or maybe not. You’re not even sure. Does it matter? Drool glistening as you crush his windpipe. Not a single muscle in your body strains as you lift him off the ground, a man – a beast – larger than yourself, even.

And he is gone. There is only death.

Somewhere in that maelstrom you lose yourself. It is not you, your body, working in concert to achieve a goal. There is only the method, the killing. Is it just the one you strike down? A dozen? A hundred? How many were there in the first place? Does it matter? There are more. That is what matters. There should be none.

You pause to search for another. Listening. Hearing the whole mountain. It is neither your eyes nor your ears that do this, but yourself. You have cast your net over the mountain. Where are you? Where is he? There he is. There you are. You step out of the shadows. Was it the shadows? It was something more ephemeral.

The last wolf tengu. Disgusting vermin. He puts on a brave face. Tries to. Does it matter? Nobody will remember what he looks like. Nobody cares what he acts like.

“Is it my turn to die?”

“Yes.”

He opens his mouth to speak, only to convulse in agony. Blood pours from his orifices, jaw contorting as the pressure inside his body grows and forces it apart. His head swells grotesquely for a moment, twice its normal size. Pop! He explodes! Bit of brain, bloodied giblets. Bits of him rain down upon you, against you. Streak down your warped face between bloodshot eyes and a berserk grin.

Such a convenient thing, all this power.

“Yes it is.”


You raise your hands to your face. Inhaling, breathing in the smell. Rotten. Purely rotten. Your nose sniffs at your dirtied palms. Fingers run down cheeks, smearing blood mixed with sweat against scars and grizzly stubbles of hair.

It’s done. It really is. Your mission is complete.You can rest. You can feel your body weaken. You fall to one knee. Your head may hang low. Your fingers grasp the dirt of this world, and soon, hope prevailing, so shall your body in the eternal rest.





Rest? Rest? This world is ugly. This world is rotten! It is not fit for a slave to rest here. Does this world think it can take someone of your magnitude? It shall be changed! It shall be reshaped! It shall be molded into an image of your liking!

Oh, you can feel the rising hatred. The feel in your chest. Burning, clawing to escape! You feel like you could breath fire! And what stops you? Nothing!

Let it burn. Let it all burn.

[ ] Endgame.
>> No. 52414
[x] Endgame.

Well, then.
>> No. 52415
[X] Endgame

Breathe, dragon, breathe.
>> No. 52420
[X] Endgame

You.
Are.
Deathwing.
The Destroyer.
The end of all things.
Inevitable.
Indomitable.
You are the Cataclysm.
>> No. 52437
[x] Rest.

You can't reshape a damn thing, you can only destroy.
[Return] [Entire Thread] [Last 50 posts] [First 100 posts] [Top]

Delete post []
Password  
Report post
Reason