>>184798

You are a necromancer. As a practitioner of what many in the magical world revile, you have been forced to skulk in the darkness to seek precious knowledge. It is in the shadows of humanity, far away from the any civilized denizens, that you have faced countless horrors. The simplest, the giant half-spiders that could bisect a man with the strength in their legs or the mutated locust swarms that could deafen a town and strip it bear of life in under an hour, would be enough to drive any modern human into a panicked frenzy.

Such mundane worries don’t trouble you. You have seen worse. You have encountered the raving madman looking to resurrect his daughter. The self-proclaimed scientist preyed upon a small village, kidnapping women in the night, dragging them kicking and screaming to his underground lair where he strapped them to a blood-soaked table where he sawed off their limbs, sliced open their bellies, and extracted their throbbing organs. He entrapped their souls with magitechnical devices and slowly picked those women apart, stripping skin and gouging brain matter to see what effects the body and mind had on the soul.

You animated the mutilated corpses that were discarded in the corner and mobbed the madman. Then you cut apart his stitched together doll of a daughter who could only weep blood all night long. She was unreasonably, unfortunately, durable.

You have infiltrated the gibbering cults that worshipped astral nightmares. They had rituals for summoning tentacled monsters that would punch a hole in a man’s chest, chewing through his fleshy innards and tunneling into his chest cavity to nibble at the victim’s heart.

All manner of demons and devils have assailed you, brought forth by powerful Satanists. Some demons were towering in stature, the fiery generals of Hell capable of crushing you underneath a hooved foot. Devils little more than whispered words on the air have attempted to subvert your mind and subsume your thoughts.

You have encountered the abominations of your ‘fellow’ practitioners more than you care to count. You have watched a seemingly nor

You wake up once again to the same somewhat-bright shapelessness in a soft bed. Birds chirp from out the window and you can hear the faint sound of village chatter in the distance, as well as smell the tea that Keine is having for the morning.

You sit up, letting the sheets fall away and groping around the table you know to be beside the bed for your folded shirt. Your fingers brush against the familiar fabric and you pull it towards you, not expecting the weight that you didn’t know was on it give way and topple to the floor.

“FUCK!”

You wince, more because the curse was shouted so loudly than the impact sounded incredibly painful, and tentatively reach down, hoping that what you feared would happen would not happen.

Alas, it wasn’t meant to be.

‘CHOMP’

“Jesus!” You withdraw your hand, cradling your now-sore finger as Seki “hmph!”s and floats her way out with a creak of the door.

Putting on your shirt, you can’t help but sigh.

“Not this shite again…”

+++

Neither you nor Akane really knew where you were going, but you didn’t run into your friend anymore after whatever it was that you went through after you asked her why people hated her.

Thankfully, your fruitless wandering paid-off when Rin, the Kasha you met before, nervously called out to you after responding to complaints from the maids-you-never-knew-were-there about a ‘scary shinigami-person’ wandering the halls.

It occurs to you that you’ve never thought to admit that you’re not really a shinigami to her (you still have no idea what the hell that’s supposed to be). You assumed that Satori would’ve told her.

In any case, she guided you from the lower levels of the palace to the main entrance again, stopping by Satori’s room at your request so that you can say goodbye before you leave.

“I’m terribly sorry that my sister put you through all that,” she said. “Take some time to acclimate yourself with your memories before you come back. It would be unfortunate if you were to suffer a mental breakdown during the next session.”

You would hate for that

PREVIOUS THREAD: >>194077
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“It’s down the hall and to the left. Should be at the end of the corridor.” Tewi gives you a knowing look. “Though, you’re heading elsewhere, aren’t you?”

“What? Who, me?” you say, careful to keep your voice hushed. Don’t want to wake the cute bunny pile. You inch out of all the napping rabbits’ grasps. “Naaaaaw. I’d never. I ain’t one to lie, y’know. I just really need to go. Badly.”

“Then I guess I believe you. Just don’t disappear again, alright?”

“I’ll try.”

Ha. Tewi thinks that you’ll really disappear like that again? Just because you feel like it? Absolutely preposterous. Impossible, even! No way you’d do something like that.

...She knows you too well. But whatever. That won’t stop you from trying. Once you finish your business in the washroom, you head out the nearest window and slip away into the night. Of course, you have no idea where the heck you are and it’s really dark and now you’re suddenly lost, but no big deal. You’ll find your way. You always do, even if it takes a while.

You make it past the mansion, but Tewi’s already outside at the entrance waiting, hands crossed at the chest and foot tapping away arrhythmically.

“Hi,” you say.

“Yeaaaaah, I knew it. At this point, I can’t even say that I didn’t expect this to happen. Trying to sneak away again?”

“I wasn’t aware gods have curfew. Besides, I did have to go to the bathroom, thanks.”

“Gods shouldn’t need to use the bathroom,” says Tewi.

“Touché.”

“So...” Tewi scrunches her face up into a frown, and a serious one at that. She twirls her tacky carrot pendant by its cord, letting its string coil around her finger. It’s a rare sight to see the one and only Tewi Inaba as sober as this. You’ve half a mind to call her face silly but now isn’t the best time.

“So?”

“Are you going to come back after you do… whatever you’re doing?”

“Sure. I’

In honor of the fact that dwarves are the best wizards, and now they're even viable in 5e, I wanted to write a story. I missed you, THP.

--

It started the same way any magical catastrophe always does.

You woke up in the dead of night, startled to full awareness by a flash of lightning, a clap of thunder, and a smell of ozone.

Oh, and it’s raining. You left the window open. Ya daft idjit.

...but last night you went out on a bender. Three bottles of whiskey in, and you didn’t expect to be up before three in the afternoon. Your headache tells you that it’s three in the afternoon and you didn’t hydrate.

It’s three in the bloody afternoon. It’s dark outside. There’s a distinctly unnatural storm outside. These add up to one inescapable conclusion- this is the apprentice’s fault.

You groan as you throw yourself out of your rather comfortable bed, and meet the hard, cold stone floor with your face. Hello, floor. Feckin’ legs just didn’t want to get under the rest of you, no. A good ol’ stone sandwich to the gob improves your mood every time.

No it doesn’t.

You stumble up and towards the single window in your tower- it’s your bloody tower, and you’re feckin’ right that you took the top floor for your bedroom. It’s about prestige, you know? Family back home’s always going on about oh why can’t you sleep underground, it’s what a proper dwarf would do and magic’s for pansies like humans and elves, can’t you get a real job like your brother Fergus and mine like your father and your father’s father and every bloody other dwarf ev-

Okay, you think, this isn’t getting anywhere. But you’ve worked up a good head of rage and it’d be a damn shame to waste it. So you get your short arse over to the window, poke your head out, and there’s your apprentice. Of course. With a bloody feckin’ magical circle. Around the whole feckin’ grounds.

“WHAT IN THE BLOODY BLUE BLAZES ARE YOU DOIN’, BOY? HOW TH

A Gensokyian bar. A typical Gensokyian day. Alice Margatroid, her dolls Shanghai and Hourai, Marisa Kirisame, and Patchouli Knowledge are all sitting together at a table. Konngara, the bartender, passes out the drinks they ordered. Alice takes the first drink, and Marisa and Patchouli drink after. When the drinks are done, Marisa passes out mushrooms. "Magic mushrooms! From the Forest of Magic," Marisa exclaims. She eats her serving of mushrooms. Patchouli digs right in, and Alice devours them with Shanghai and Hourai.

After the mushrooms are eaten, Marisa, Patchouli, and Alice feel a bit dizzy. Then, they see the floor collapsing behind them! "Aaaah!" they all scream! They fall through the floor.

Marisa, Patchouli, Alice, Shanghai, and Hourai soon find themselves flying through space. They drop down in a mushroom forest. "We should explore this forest," Patchouli says. "But where should we start?" Alice asks.

Where should they go?
[x] Left
[x] Right

[x] ...Yo?
[x] Did you catch them?
[x] ...What’s with the getup?
-[x] You’re here about Mai.

~k++k~

“...Yo?” The redhead simply stares back at your befuddled being, not really moving anymore. Seeing this angle is somewhat disorientating, especially in your relatively tired state. It takes a moment or two longer to realize that, yes, you are seeing exactly what you think you’re seeing. ...This is hardly some sort of dream; that’d be too easy an explanation.

Either way, you do recognize the face from earlier. “...Did you catch them?”

The first hint of life appears on her face as she arcs an eyebrow… well, upward for her. “We caught all of the hostage-takers. In the end, they were sufficiently apprehending and contained. Sara was quite enthusiastic about ensuring that none were in a state to escape.”

“That’s good, at least. Are they going to remain in custody?”

“Likely. The bakebake are an odd case, but they are not gaining their freedom anytime soon.” Her expression falls back to a dull stare as she continues to judge you. You straighten your neck before popping it, feeling a crick from where you had been lying for the previous while.

She seems content to just judge you; at least she’s no longer prodding you. “So, what’s with the getup that you are wearing? Looks a little formal. Are you off duty?”

“I suppose that I am. And it is because I am a princess.”

You open your mouth before immediately closing it. You have been napping on the shoulder of some goddess, again. You might eventually get used to it. “A princess? One that happens to also be a police officer?”

“I’m not one currently; I’m simply a princess now.”

“...A princess of what?”

“Does one have to be a princess of something? It simply is what I am.”

“Then why do you call yourself one?”

“Why, it’s in my name, of course.” It’s really odd how her expression has been flat this entire time. “But yes; we’re currently finished working for day, although we are maintained on call. The amount of incidents for which we are requ

Moe-chan awakens, opening her wonderful moe-eyes.

“Huh? Where did you come from, kid?” A voice rings out rings out, startling her.

Looking frantically around, Moe-chan realizes that she’s lying in a small wooden boat, sitting up, she observes her surroundings.

The boat’s on a pitch-black river, the sky is just as dark. Opposite of her, sits a red-haired woman, holding a scythe over her shoulder. ‘She looks intimidating’ Is what Moe-chan in her confused state thought.

“Oi, I asked you a question.” The woman calls out.

“Ehm, I-I don’t know...I just woke up here.” Moe-chan stutters.

“Haah, well, do you at least remember your name?” The woman asked.

“Y-Yes, I’m moe-chan. I-It’s nice to meet you…” Moe-chan trailed off, uncertain, doubtful.

“Heh, ...‘Moe-chan’ huh?” The woman suddenly gained a dangerous glint in her eyes.
“Say, Moe-chan… do you wanna die?” With that, the woman swung her scythe right at Moe-chan!

“Huh?” Is the only response Moe-chan could give in her stupor!

’Don’t give up! Use your Moe beam!’

…!

[ ] Give up, it’s hopeless.
[ ] Moe Beam.

For all you faithful watchers in HV-Land, airing of Fallout Gensokyo will resume momentarily.
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“This is your DJ, Momizi X, and you're listening to Taking It Easy with Momizi: Talk, news, and free-format musical stylings on WGNR Gensokyo News Radio. It's time once again to get very, very personal with one of our lovely listeners. Delivered this morning by crow-mail from the rabbits at the community clinic in The Village:
“'Dear Momizi X, long time listener, first time writer. We always tune to your station at my workplace. Your news is fresher and usually less biased than some other local sources, and we find your music makes for good background sound when pulling impacted wisdom teeth without the aid of anesthetic. However, sometimes the screamers get so loud that I'd wish you'd update your playlist with something that really rocks. Like Queen. Signed, Elena Dark & Tall, Maxillofacial Surgeon.'
“Well Elena, while we have been moving in a slightly more modern direction lately with KVV⑤—and WSDM with better access to some older stock—the explanation here is actually more complicated than the eclectic musical tastes of your tengu disc jockey. When the bombs hit at the start of the Great War in 2078, about 10 billion people were wiped off the planet. A few survived in the Vaults and went on to repopulate the Wastes afterward, but the combination of violent competition for a dwindling pool of resources and the general prevalence of subsistence living left little room for musical eccentricity in the Wasteland, while inside the Vaults tightly-controlled media indoctrination stifled the creative spark of entire generations.
“But there's an important second point that might have escaped you: Every bomb that exploded produced an electromagnetic pulse c

Previous Thread: >>192515

[e+3] Quickly thank her, and don't complain too much.
-[e+3] Ask what it does that will last a week, however. You weren't aware of this taking time.
[e+3] Redirect attention to where you go from here.

------------

After you regain your composure, you spit the increasingly nasty lump of wood into your hand. "Thanks, I guess." But then, something hits you. "Wait, a week? You never said it would take time."

"Well, technically. You should be good as new long before then, though it's the same sort of charm I slap on Kasen. The living aren't a specialty of mine after all, so forgive my smaller bag of tricks." She almost sounds genuinely apologetic.

"...It's not for healing, is it."

"Correct. It would be more accurate to say that it keeps one in a single piece and at least lively should more terrible things happen."

You try your very best not to lose your cool. "You didn't kill me, right?" Better safe than sorry, right? As much as she talks about corpses...

"Why, of course not!" You let out a sigh of relief. "It simply makes you easier to put back together again should it come to that." And then choke on it.

"What?!"

"Now, now. You do have more pressing matters than worrying over if you're not so fresh, right~?" You can just tell she got a kick out of her own joke, as smug as she looks. "Besides, it's more akin to a healing factor of a sort, to put it in simple terms. It keeps that which is alive whole and hardy. However, if you lose anything, it does stay lost."

You let out a long sigh. "Fine. Whatever." You knew trusting her was a bad idea. This stinks worse than Kasen. "Just... where are we going from here?"

Tittering with amusement seemingly borne from your acceptance, she answers, "Why, I simply tag al

“He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. When you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche


[x] "Is that a 12.7 dual cannon in your starboard, or are you happy to see me?"

— - — - —

You resist the urge to flinch, and instead simply swallow the lump of dread. Sure, she'd be shooting herself if she shot you, and yes, she is an ally, but... "...Is that a 12.7 dual cannon in your starboard, or are you happy to see me?"

The turret waves up and down a bit. "Umm... Well, yes." The turret seemingly flinches. At its size, it's quite noticeable. Then it averts. "S-sorry, sir! I, umm... I didn't mean to aim at you like that. I was only trying to look at you is all..."

You give the barrel a bit of a pat. "Just do better in the future." Though you maintain a level tone, you can feel your heart pounding its fair share from turning to the sight of such a gun. So large is the barrel, of course, that it took a moment to register. However, when it did, well... "Now, can you direct me to Rika? I've questions for her."

After a moment, the Inazuma says, "She's by the Heart, sir."

"The heart?" You're reminded to a disturbing degree of the organic innards of an Abyssal.

"Where, umm..." The turret's barrels fidget a bit. "Where Aoko is."

You frown. "You may wish us to call you by your new name, but you still are Aoko. It's one thing to want others to treat you in such a way. But to dehumanize yourself is a line best not crossed."

"S-sorry, sir! Umm... It's just that it's difficult to refer to the separate parts easily. There's two of me in a way, after all..."

You sigh. "Calling it the Heart should be just fine, Inazuma."

"