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“So Death, we meet as foes,” you ask.
As he always has, Death takes the form of the traditional Grim Reaper. You stand in the greyish mists. There is no up nor down. It is a mere formality that you are even oriented along the same axis. Around, the greyish mists are collapsing.
It is the end of all things. Ragnarok, as the Norse called it. Reality ripped apart by primeval forces beyond even the comprehension of gods like Death. Mort, you once affectionately called him.
There is no affection or friendliness between the two of you now. The large, bearded waraxe is in your hands. The scythe is in his. You coil your screaming muscles like springs. They are tense, ready for explosive release. Though not noticeable, the cloaked figure of death readies himself in much the same way to strike against the black knight facing him.
Against a god like Death, this battle can be decided in only one blow. If that strike fails, the power held allows them to remake themselves as if the blow had never even happened.
Godslayer. Your ultimate technique. It is forged from years of experience. As you know, you must kill Death in only one blow. There are three components to the technique. Firstly, the physical blow must destroy the physical form of the god. For obvious reasons, this is only possible within their native realm. To kill an avatar does nothing. Secondly, the blow must destroy them at the spiritual level. To do such breaks their powers. However, without the third part, the previous two would be in vain. Thirdly, the attack must destroy the concept of the god itself. For example, when he killed the goddess of magic, the concept of magic was destroyed.
You see past the mere physical. You see into the spiritual. You see the concept of death. The axe is ready.
“It doesn't have to end this way,” says Death casually.
“You promised me my daughter. You made me kill her,” you growl back.
Because of your armor, Death cannot simply will you out of existence. He must physically cut you apart with his scythe. You know it will slice through the black plates like a hot knife through butter. Given how you must actually hit him to use Godslayer, Death can easily strike you. At best, you can hope for mutual death. Failure is your only other option. Do or die.
You spring forward, axe refracted beyond the physical to strike at all three simultaneously. It was attack by the only method you know. Concentrate maximum power into minimum area. Death charges. You roar into his face as your axe makes contact to allow Death to know exactly what is happening to him.
His scythe, as you thought, slices through the black plates of your armor. It rips through your side, nearly to your side. It hurts as the armor is pierced. The armor has become as much a part of your body as your skin. You can never remove it. The tip of the scythe grazes your spine. However, God Slayer connects. Your mighty swing rips through Death, not only his physical form but his spiritual form and his very concept.
You fall mere feet from each other. You bleed out into the collapsing nothingness. Like shattered window, this realm is collapsing. It falls, revealing the black cessation of everything that is limbo.
Death says to you, dying, “From Hell's heart, I stab at thee. For hate's sake, I spit my last breath of thee.”
Growling, you answer, “What's that supposed to mean?”
Death, with his perpetual grin, replies, “With me dead, the concept of death no longer exists. You've condemned yourself to limbo. It would be better for you to die.”
“Never,” you answer, “It is all I need to see you smashed and broken, dying on the ground.”
And then, everything crunches in on itself. It is an explosion to end all explosions and the shockwave sends you flying through eternity.........
Feeling returns. Everything should be gone. You should be hurtling through limbo. But you're not. There should be nothing to sense. But there is. You open your eyes. Above is a clear sky. You laugh. You laugh so hard you feel your insides are going to explode.
Your hands claw at the grass. From nerves that have become one with the armor, you feel it is most definitely real. You're alive, but how? Death is dead, so your continued existence is not entirely surprising. You had simply thought the colossal forces would have ripped you apart. This, this was not what you expected. You extend your hand and make a familiar grasping motion. The axe that killed gods appears in your hands from the stuff of shadows. You release it from your grasp and it disappears.
You sit up. Death has been killed. There is no way to get your daughter back. What is left for you? What do you now with your existence?
Those two are still alive and kicking. What happened is something like the "Bang, Bang, Bang" Theory in that, the universe annihilates itself and then reforms from the ashes. Kind of like nuclear fission. However, since the concept of Death was killed, our friend here survived the remaking of the universe.
>>142782 What? So nothing can die anymore?
Or do you mean the concept of death was remade because it was needed and he just slipped past it because his concept was killed?
He won't die even if you killed him?
I think what writefag is trying to say is this:
We killed Death. The universe cannot go on without Death, and fixes itself in the form of rebirth, killing off everything and starting anew. Since we killed Death and the very concept of it, We survived it. Anyone remember the Ray Sphere from inFAMOUS? Thats how I'm viewing it, only without us gaining any sort of powers (i think).
So basically, There's going to be no touhous in this land? Or when the universe was reborn, God said "fuck it" and sent us off to an already existing gensokyo?
You have the general idea. There are a few things where you are off. The universe was falling apart anyway, ready to be reborn. Killing Death simply accelerated the process. There is no "Big G" God in this. The closest might be the cycle of death and rebirth of the universe. Gensokyo, however, is special. The Border causes it to remain as a stable bubble, if you will, inside the universe regardless of its cycles. It stays stable. This is the Gensokyo we know and love.
You look around. It as you thought; you lie in a meadow. The grass a beautifully healthy shade of green. It bends and springs back softly in the wind. Something so simple, but so pleasant. However, you are a stranger in a strange land. It would be best to look for habitation, though you doubt it would go over well. For some reason, people find a mysterious figure in black Gothic plate to be rather intimidating if not outright evil.
You perform a quick scan of the landscape. In three places, you see the telltale marks of habitation. Little streams of smoke rise, spiraling through the air like ballerinas.
One comes from beyond a tall mountain. It's sharp lines rise up high into the sky, culminating in a white, snowcapped peak. At its base, you recognize the fine mist of waterfalls. Another comes from beyond a tall forest. You can see the beginnings of the gnarled and ancient limbs from where you stand. A third appears to come from beyond a series of gently rolling hills.
Compared to the hell from which you came, this is so peaceful. While not unwelcome, you find it to be almost disturbing. Perhaps, after centuries upon centuries of war and strife, such things have become alien. Perhaps you are unwelcome in such a world. You sigh, cuirass rising and falling like your own chest.
You wonder what you will do now. Perhaps you will become a protector for the weak. Though you can still be killed, you doubt that there will be anyone else who can face down a god. Of course, you are not infallible, so it might be better to simply avoid getting involved.
Right now, you are interested in a hot meal and a soft bed. Perhaps the locals will take kindly to you. The question is the direction in which you go.
[X]Go to the mountain
[X]Go past the hills
[X]Go through the forest
Protagonist is not a god. One of the "rules" which he and Death followed but is not followed in Gensokyo (which more or less operates under its own rules) is that gods cannot directly face other gods. They need to use servants of some kind. The protagonist is a dead spirit who was given a body, kickass armor, and abilities. Then he was sent out over centuries and millenia and level grind-ed his way to god slaying.
Also, map of Gensokyo I forgot to put in story post.
>>142811 Indeed it's negative. It's basically a story with a very loosely held plot and gave a ton of power to the protagonist, who then basically wreaked pointless havoc across gensokyo. Eventually it started to collapse under its own weight. Its writer quit before the second great /blue/ purge ever got started.
Some folks are just worried that in your inexperience and over-eagerness that you'd do take the story to a stupid place or screw up another way.
You definitely want to explain the upcoming plot things better in story. But the story has some promise provided no grimderps take it into a "Kill all the touhous" type story.
lolno. MC might be upper tier Touhou, but that doesn't mean he can roflstomp. Roflstomps are boring unless you have a hateon for stomped party. The only people he might be able to oneshot with God Slayer would be Kanako, Suwako, and other gods/goddesses. I'm not even sure if that would work because Touhou deities simply don't seem to really work as embodiments of concepts, which is a prerequisite for God Slayer to function.
Take it easy. This is not my first fanfic. I've been writing for several years now. Admittedly, this is my first 2nd Person CYOA.
Grimderp would be derp. The MC has no real reason to go "slaughter the touhous!" That would be stupid.
There is something about the mountain. Perhaps it is the beauty of its solid form, perhaps a certain power emanating from the windswept crags. You decide to go towards the signs of habitation on the mountain. You raise a gauntleted hand to shade your eyes. The mountain is some miles away. You wish you had a mount of some sort, but you were never a mounted warrior. You always were a footman.
You begin the march. With your unnatural body, you feel no real fatigue from such a long march. You see the tiny flitting shapes with prismatic, gossamer wings. They remind you of the fairies you've seen across many realms. Some were helpful kind things. Some were malicious tricksters. Some were like animals. However, such thoughts do not trouble you. They do not antagonize you, and you do not antagonize them.
It is late in the afternoon when you reach the foothills of the mountain. You can see the spirals of drifting smoke. You need only push yourself a little more. Your sabaton-covered feet dig into the ground as the incline becomes more noticeable. There probably is a path somewhere, but it is not one that you can see. The going is tough, but you keep going forward.
At some points, the incline is so steep and the rock so smooth that you have to claw into the rock and use your upper body strength to lift yourself up. You can feel the burning in your muscles, but they respond to your will. You haul yourself onto the flat top of this rock face. The signs of habitation are closer. Behind your helmet, you smile. Perhaps you can find a soft bed and a hot meal. Right now, there is no conflict and after the machinations of Death, you wish for something simple.
The grass here bears a golden hue like ripe wheat. You smile; it looks especially nice into the ruddy rays of the fading sun. A single black feather drops and falls, fluttering and spinning, into your hand. You look above and see no crows, nor blackbirds, nor ravens. What then, could possibly the source of this feather?
You look around, immediately checking upward. The skill to remember to look up when mystical creatures are involved is one that you have found very useful. The grass bends as a girl with dark hair and large crow wings protruding from her back floats down. Her clothes consist of a plain white blouse and dark skirt. Her wooden sandals seem both impractical and unusual.
“What do you want with me?” you ask, attempting to avoid conflict.
“I want to know who you are and what you're doing around here. It's not often an outsider falls from the sky, but survives like you did. No outside nowadays wears anything like you are wearing.”
She procures a camera and snaps a quick picture of you. You are immediately confused and furrow your brow in concentration. What to do with this strange winged girl.
[X]Ignore her. Continue on your way.
[X]Answer politely. Omit details likely to trouble people such as your killing of Death.
[X]Answer boastfully. Mention your feats.
[X]Answer politely. Omit details likely to trouble people such as your killing of Death.
“I am not quite sure how things work here, but I was a servant of Death. I was his champion.”
You smile, recalling fond memories. You recall the good times you had as Death's -no, Mort's- Servant. Death was the bastard who had played with your heartstrings in a gamble for ultimate power.
“You see outside, the universe was collapsing in on itself to reform again. I had honestly expected to be ripped apart, but the shockwaves sent me flying through limbo. Then I awoke, laying a meadow. As of now, all I desire is a soft bed and a warm meal.”
She seems rather dubious. Obviously, things work differently here. She takes down notes in a small hardback notebook.
“Sorry if this is rude, but are you an animated suit of armor?”
You consider taking offense. There is flesh and blood beneath steel. However, it is an easy assumption to make. A normal human would have removed the armor by now, especially if rock-climbing was involve. You open the bevor of your armor to show that there is a visage under the armor.
“No, but the armor has become one with me. It might as well be my skin. I'm afraid I can't take it off.”
“Well,” she says, “There's a village up the mountain. I think you could spend the night.”
“Thank you. I have a question-rather a pair- for you. First of all, what is your name? Second, are you some sort of angel?”
She chuckles slightly at your angel comment. It seems as though she takes it as a complement.
“My name is Aya Shameimaru. As for what I am, I am a tengu, a type of youkai.”
You accept this explanation. Magical creatures refer to themselves by all sorts of names. These words do seem to remind of you Eastern mythologies. Or what you had assumed to be myth during your life before becoming Death's champion.
“I have a question, stranger,” says the girl, “What's your name? I can't simply refer to you as 'stranger' or 'outsider.' Another thing, you it might take you a while to get up their climbing. I could fly you up.”
You see she has several good points.
[X]Concern with regards to your weight.
[X]Give her your name (Write In)
By this logic limbo hell and heaven should remain,but are now inaccessible.
Higan should cease to exist because all they are are a preserved second option, with death itself gone, Higan, like the Youkai who didn't go to gensokyo should slowly fade away, seeing as higan as never truly a sect of death to begin with but rather a place brought on by belief and faith.
Infact, all the branches from the main cycle should end up withering away, unless a new entity is formed to replace the old.
if this is not the case, then I have no clue what the fuck the writer is doing, unless this is going to involve the return of Sariel to power, which would be rather hard, considering how she is a wish granting fairy now.
>>142943 You really need to take it easy. Besides, I did explain as others pointed out. If that is insufficient, blame Yukari's powers in separating Gensokyo from the outside.
[X]Concern with regards to weight
You ponder for a moment. You freeze. How could you forget something so intrinsic to you. It's insane. It's mind boggling. You fail to remember the basis of who you are. You've forgotten your own name.
“I'm sorry,” you say honestly, “I've forgotten.”
She merely shrugs.
“I thought you'd be more surprised.”
“It wouldn't be the strangest thing around these parts.”
“I'm not sure you'd be able to carry me. Right now, I weigh upwards of two-hundred fifty pounds.”
Aya seems confused. Then you realize that she might not be familiar with pounds. So you decide to try kilograms.
“I weigh around one-hundred twenty-five kilograms, an eighth of a tonne.”
“This girl is stronger than she looks, y'know,” replies the short-haired tengu, “Now stay still.”
You do as much and feel arms reach under your armpits.
“Mind the pauldrons and besagews,” you say, worried that she might cut herself on the jutting bits of metal. Unlike a horseman's armor, the pauldrons are symmetrical as you have no need to couch a lance. Then you realize that she probably lacks the in-depth knowledge of armor you have. She understands the implication of your words and avoids laceration.
The black wings beat, pulsing like a heartbeat to slowly achieving liftoff. The mountain rushes past you, green and brown and black blurring into brief streaks of color. You slow down and find village built into terraces. It reminds you of a rural Japan.
She gracefully lands on a path to the village. You walk for some time along the narrow path. You look down. To fall right now would be rather bad. By this time, night has fallen, casting pale moonlight upon the rocks.
As you would expect, there were a pair of guards armed with shield and spear guarding the path. It would take all of ten seconds to deal with them should push come to shove.
“Aya, who's that?” asks one.
“He's an outsider looking for, as he put it, 'a hot meal and a soft bed.' I didn't see any reason not to oblige him with hospitality.”
“Stranger,” one asks, “Are you armed?”
“Not at the moment, no,” you respond. You really don't want to get into a fight and have to cut them down. It would be a shame.
“Could you become armed?”
“He doesn't seem like that black and white witch,” says one.
“You may pass,” says the other after a quick moment of hesitation.
You smile pleasantly as you pass, but then realize that your mouth is concealed by the armor.
Aya grabs your hand and leads you off somewhere.
“Alright,” she says, “You can spend the night at my place, but in return, you give me a proper interview.”
>>142954 Actually, forget what I said, Chances are Higan is still up and running seeing as they only deal in reincarnation, Japanese hell and makai which are completely different realms to which Grim would have dealt with, that are supported by their own existence.
If anything, the major problem down there would most likely be an influx of souls that technically by right and ownership are not theirs to manage, meaning Komachi might get overworked and another 60 year incident might happen early, at best.
Though Grim's death would potentially serve as another problem to the Higan branch but perhaps not one that I can think of.
If anything, any of the border deathgod crew may just go looking for us, of course this depends on the consistency of Aya's report.
We might want to check for consistency when we go over it as to make sure the story is told correctly.
Then Again Aya would fall right into the bitch tier if she dicked around with it, seeing as it is very sad and moving.
>>142975 Dude. The universe got blown the fuck up/imploded. I dont think souls would survive that.
If anything, Gensokyo is a universe all on its own. It's based in japan, But it was split from it, Therefore making it an alternate universe/dimension. I honestly doubt Komachi's getting a single soul from what happened anyways.
>>142998 >Missed the point entirely >Not knowing that that in every christfag faith,souls cannot be destroyed >Story clearly gives away the fact that we are dealing with heaven, hell, and limbo. I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt and assuming you're a troll and not an idiot for being this ignorant.
>>143012 >There is no "Big G" God in this.
This is pretty clearly not even an Abrahamic universe, let alone a "christfag" one. In fact:
>The closest might be the cycle of death and rebirth of the universe.
This is sounding a lot like Buddhism, where a specific tenet of belief is that nothing is permanent, least of all the self or anything else that could be called a 'soul'.
Not that >>142998 isn't a moron who missed the point entirely, but that doesn't automatically make >>142990 right.
>>143014 Big money big money no whammy no whammy stop. Congrats, You got the big money. You get to go home with a whooping prize known as "Proving an obvious point."
Seriously, The touhou universe is Shinto or Buddhist, Therefore any sort of 'religion' in this story can be assume as one of the two. However, That doesnt change the fact that Death has nothing to do with religion as far as I know.
>>143012 >>143014 Oh no, I got the point. I was just responding to the implied, subtle you might say, message in the post. You know, the one you (two?) seem to have missed. It's why I'm not that upset that the conversation is going right over your head.
He was treating the subject seriously and with personal conviction. He wasn't treating or discussing it as a story or plot issue as >>143014 or >>143017 have.
>Abrahamic god > Not existing in the touhou universe Come back to me when you remember who was the final boss in the hell route of TH1. Last time I checked, she didn't belong to no wacky-jap religion >Grim reaper >Rebirth WHAT. WHAT. WHAT.
She drags you down the torchlit streets. The thatched roofs of the buildings are nostalgic. They remind you of your first mission as Death's servant. You ended up in a world of swords and sorcery. There, you smashed apart the witches, servants of the Goddess of magic. You recall your original motive for accepting Death's offer: revenge. Witches had taken your daughter and killed you in front of her. You died, ribcage spread open like an angel's wings and silently cursing them for you had not a tongue with which to speak.
These are bad thoughts, thoughts you buried centuries ago.
Was it really that long ago you took up this black armor?
Was it really that long ago you almost found love again?
You shake your head to clear your mind and simply let Aya lead you onwards to her home. It is much like the other buildings. The raised portion toward the rear reminds you of the camelback shotgun in which you were born and raised.
The black-haired tengu girl unlocks the door and invites you inside her domicile. Inside, the walls have been painted with a mural of the skyline from some point of the mountain. It truly is a beautiful piece. Artistic and soft strokes create details to make it seem lifelike.
“You like?” asks Aya.
“It's really something. I thought that you were more into photography, though.”
“I am. Someone else painted it. I'm not complaining; it's nice. Now, I'll make something to eat. You should probably take a bath or something.”
“I'm kind of bonded to a suit of armor. I'm not sure how well that would go.”
“It's not watertight, is it?”
“Then go relax, stranger. You're my guest; I insist.”
“Wait, do you have some sort of light oil?” you ask.
“I do. What for?”
“My armor,” you answer simply.
She shows you to the bath. It is in its own room. The walls and floor are made from bamboo boards. You are careful with the light-colored wood, not wanting to damage it with your armor. Aya hands you a small white rag and bottle of light oil. She smiles and leaves, walking over to the kitchen. You step carefully into the hot water of the bath. Chances are, magic is used to heat it.
The hot liquid seeps in through the cracks and gaps in your armor. It seeps in through the mail. It is soothing, a catharsis. Soon enough, you leave the warm water and begin to towel yourself dry, being careful not to tear your host's towels. Then you pour some of the oil onto the rag and begin to rub it into the metal and leather. The plates of black armor are first. Once you finish, the they gleam with an obsidian luster. Then comes the mail. The rings are trickier, but all they require is a light coat. Their natural rustling works the oil into them. The leather then feels the gentle oil, renewing its flexibility.
“I'm finished,” you say through the sliding wooden door separating you from Aya.
“Almost,” she says. You notice she is barefoot, having taken off her sandals at the door. Damn. You would have removed your boots for politeness's sake if you could.
“Sorry about your floor,” you say.
“Don't mention it. I believe you when you say you can't get out of that armor.”
Her clothes now are more relaxed and less formal. It is a pleasant change. For someone who seemed so focused, it is good to know that she can relax.
She motions for you to kneel at the low table. No chairs, you notice. Soon, dinner is served. Steamed rice with millet bread. Sliced and pan-fried game meat. A light miso with onions and celery. The odor is heavenly and ambrosial. She hands you glazed teacup. She gives a short prayer before digging into the food. For your part, you don't even know if the gods are worth prayers. Besides, you are a god slayer.
You find the food to be delicious. Thankfully, you are able to use chopsticks.
“So,” she begins, rudely pointing at you with her own chopsticks, “How did you end up encased in that armor of yours?”
“It's a long story. My daughter was kidnapped by servants of the goddess Magic. They also killed me. When I died, I met Death in the form of a robed skeleton who carried around a scythe. He made me an offer I couldn't refuse. He offered me an opportunity to get my daughter back and take revenge. In exchange, I had to become his Servant. Now, your bog-standard spirit can't do terribly much. So, I got a body. To deal with the caliber of opponents which I was to face, it had be stronger and faster but, most importantly, tougher.”
You clench a fist.
“Definitely tougher,” you continue, “This body can repair itself from almost any normal or magical attack. This armor was protect from other things. Mainly, it keeps my body going past the point where it breaks itself apart. It also prevents outside influences like a god, for example, pointing at me and deciding that I die.”
She nods. You eat the meal she cooked. The meat is particularly nice.
“You mentioned that you could become armed. Would you please show me?”
You smile slightly as you set down the chopsticks and reach out your right hand. You motion as if wrapping your fingers around handle. From the essence of shadows, a familiar weight forms. The gleaming blade is in your hands. It is truly an amazing weapon, lacking any sort of special ability. Still.
This axe has slain gods.
Aya smiles as she sees it.
“It fits you, an axe.”
You chuckle slightly.
“Would you tell me about this Death?”
“Well, we have our own 'Death' here. She doesn't resemble yours outside of the scythe.”
“She!” you exclaim, “Death has no real gender! It's just a concept given form by the gestalt consciousness of the universe! I just called Death 'he' for the sake of convenience!”
She makes a placating motion with her hands.
“Calm down. Geez.”
You take a deep breath.
“I think you need to travel around Gensokyo. While obviously used to the fantastic, it is nothing like here. You should take it easy,” says the crow tengu.
“Yeah, I probably should you reply.”
The dinner ends in pleasant silence.
“Where will I be sleeping?” you ask.
“Well, “I have a spare futon,” she says, “Or you can sleep with me~”
“Yes. You're pretty much a suit of armor and a probably a widower. I don't think you will do anything perverted.”
“If you don't mind, I'll take the guest futon,” you say, “If my armor tears it up, it was just a spare.”
That's always been something of a problem. You've been trying fix it, but you really can't.
“Couldn't you just take off the armor?” asks Aya.
“I've been trying for a while to no avail,” you reply somewhat irately.
You decide to soften it a little bit at her distraught expression.
“It's an honest mistake. I get it all the time.”
Aya smiles, which make you feel better. You can't help but want to be kind to cute girls. She then pulls out a futon which she lays on the floor. The she flies up to her own room. When you have wings, stairs are pointless. You lay down on your back. There is really no need for a blanket when you wear heavy armor.
You stair the ceiling for some time before falling asleep. You dream.
[X]Dream of your life
[X]Dream of your service after death
Just working on a short story for submission to a publication. Doing a little novel prewriting.
As you drift into sleep, memories claim hold to you. It has been centuries since you were alive, rather than a spiritual servant able to take form. Your mind goes back to that small span of time, perhaps 40 years.
Growing up in small farm. You remember your formative years. You had to wake much earlier than you did later in life. Tiny hands brush past wheat. The warmth of the sun on your face as your father takes you on a tractor joyride. Shooting your first rabbit. Then your first deer. That first .22 rifle, awkward and large, built for someone much larger. But it was yours. Then shooting daddy's Mauser, which he'd taken home as a trophy. He preffered his Garand for big game.
Your teenage years went past. The only thing you can really remember is your white Ford. She was a fixer-upper, but she took you out across the flat open expanses and gave a little romantic privacy.
Then came the war. Like most, you volunteered. It was the conscripts that got all the attention, but most boys had came on their own accord. Mud and blood. Brief flashes of fire. Still, the people were a good people. You liked them, and they liked you. Then you left, found a girl, and got hitched. You moved into the city and had one beautiful daughter.
It shames you to admit that you can't even recall your wife's face, but you can picture your daughter's so clearly. Sandy blonde hair, green eyes, and freckles. A short but pointy nose. She always liked her hair in pigtails. You thought they were adorable.
Then came the strangeness. She started hanging out with a different crowd. She didn't want to be with you. You were sad, but you thought it was just a part of your little girl growing up. If only you knew then what you know now. You would have taken her away and put a bullet through their brains.
It was one summer day. You had just brought your little girl home. Her friends knocked on the door and asked to come inside your house. You let them in. A sudden force slammed you back as chains bound you against the wall. They were going to take your daughter, turn her into a witch. You struggled, but they found a fitting way to end you. Your very own white Ford. Except into your face at speed as fast as a pitcher's throw.
You wake up. Something soft is pressed against you. You crane your neck to see Aya snuggling up against you. It is not quite light. You resign yourself to being snuggled by the tengu girl. More time passes.
You here a sharp rapping.
“Aya?” asks someone.
The person in question remains fast asleep.
“Aya!” comes a loud yell.
Then the door bursts in.
But you're locked in a suit of armor!
[X]Get better look at new person.
[X]Denounce claims of perverted actions.
[X]You have an axe to grind.
I would like to write a fight scene, but this was a good moment for choice. Also planning on updating weekly.
This is ridiculous, but before you do anything hasty, you decide to try and figure out who the newcomer is. The newcomer appears to be a wolf girl. Not the strangest thing you've seen by far. What you see when you look into the realm of the conceptual is far stranger. She looks like a warrior with her shield and sword.
“First of all, how am I supposed to do anything perverted when I am in a full suit of armor. There aren't any openings in interesting locations. As you can see, my hands are close to me. Who are you?”
Aya rustles, stretches, and wakes up behind you.
“Momiji, is that you? What're you doing? Why'd you barge in like that?”
“Well, you're usually up early and it's quite late now, so I was worried. Who's this?”
“I dunno. He doesn't really know either. But an outsider like him is something different. Plus he was lost. So, I extended hospitality in exchange for an interview.”
Suddenly, a devious look crosses Aya's face. What could she possibly have planned?
“Well, the two of you are both warriors, right?” she began.
We both nodded.
“Why don't you duel, no danmaku, and the loser buys tea? Besides, people always seem to bond over beating each other senseless.”
Momiji seems hesitant. You aren't quite sure either. But this doesn't sound like a duel to the death.
Last time I checked Momo sucked at danmaku and so do we, the last thing we want to do is to spam godslayer in infinite quantity on Momo and cause unwanted damage, or draw in unwanted attention by doing so.
Actually, she can't be God Slayer-ed because she doesn't embody any particular concept. Yukari, OTOH, could be hit with it because she embodies the concept of "Borders."
You also have a more than a little fighting experience of your own, as you didn't spend all your time looking for gods and slaying them. There were other things, like mortal minions of aformentioned gods, that Death wanted killed.
It's time to d-d-d-d-duel. Expect the after battle tea later tonight or tomorrow. To qualify better on my planned updating schedule. I plan on updating at least once a week. Anyway, here's an update. Expect the a choice in the next.
After some time, you answer.
“Sure. Why not? I promise to go easy on you.”
You don't intend any arrogance; you just have so much experience behind you. You instantly regret your words upon seeing the fire in her eyes. Still, you can tell this is going to be fun. The axe forms in your hands.
“I think it would be worth my while,” says the white-haired wolf tengu, also agreeing.
You walk into a practice clearing. The ground is sandy but rough enough for traction. Aya has her camera out and ready. You settle into a sort of tunnel vision. It's only you and her. Aya put he fingers into her mouth for a high pitched whistle.
Lightning fast comes her first strike a long lunge from a low stance, not unlike a fencer's. You pivot to the side of the strike. You step forward, spinning around to build up extra force for your. It's an easily telegraphed strike, but it is a necessity in the battle of sword against axe.
The axe, unlike the sword, is slow, deliberate weapon. An axe of similar weight will never match a sword's agility. Neither is it able to have the sword's versatility in terms of striking surfaces. The edges have a much smaller surface than that of a sword. You can't thrust and stab with an axe. However, the axe when properly handled will gain speed and become faster with each swing flowing into another until the point when it connects. There, the smaller edge imparts far more force than a sword every could, smashing through armor and flesh and bone alike. However, such a hit must be successful or the process must begin anew.
The shield deflects the blow with ease. She, this Momiji, undoubtedly possesses a level a strength above human. Thankfully, so do you. She slips under your guard. Fast, very fast. The sharp tip of her sword is aimed to punch through the mail protecting your armpit and into your ribcage. You clamp your arm to your side, catching the blade. She tries to trip you, but you remain firm. The buckler move, slamming into the visor. With her strength, it smashes your nose in and pops your eyes like water balloons. Blood, almost like tears, flows from ruined sockets. It flows down from the helmet and drips onto the ground.
“Are you okay?” she asks, undoubtedly gazing in concern.
“I'll be better.”
And you will. They always go for the eyes. But they always reform. It is the armors curse. At first you could remove it, but the more you were injured, the more it healed you, the more it grew attached to you. By now, your body is simply one with the armor, having been injured in so many ways. To show your daughter your face, you had to nearly rip your head off to remove the helmet. Even so, you ripped away most of the skin on your face to look upon her. Sight returns and you pick up your axe.
“Look into my eyes. They're there now.”
She does and brings the sword back into a guard position. The axe is ready. This time, it is you making the first move. She slips around, but you smoothly direct the axe. Unlike the sword, which acts like an extension of your body, the axe becomes your body, pulling you along. Though you control it, you must follow the axe.
One swing. Dodged. She counter and you must shift your weight to keep the axe in motion. You would waste too much energy doing that.
Another swing. Aimed at her legs. She jumps and replies with a thrust that simply is deflected by the excellent design of your armor.
A third swing. It's so fast now that she must block it with her shield. She is thrown back and you advance, keeping the axe in motion.
A fourth. Her sword sends it downward, but this allows you to bring it around for an overhand blow.
A fifth and the blade stops mere millimeters from her hat and splitting her skull. She falls back, having braced herself against a blow that never came.
“It's my win, I suppose.”
You offer a hand to help her up. She takes it with a smile.
“I guess that the tea is on my tab.”
“I got some great photos for the article!” exclaims Aya.
I'll make her relative lack of concern considering the extent of the injury clear in the next update.
The no danmaku is intentional. I want to write fights more brutal and visceral than most Touhou fics with higher stakes at high level battles.
Also, expect lots of eye injuries as its a natural point for people unable to break through the armor via brute force to aim. Also, recovering from someone stabbing you in the fucking eye to continue fighting is pretty badass.
It really is not breaking power levels. A rather hard metal object is striking one of the softest and squishiest parts of the body with a fair amount of force. I don't see how this is breaking the power level when you take into account what hit him (the rim of the shield) and where. Expect an update tonight or tommorrow.
>>144615 From the perspective of someone unacquainted with combat of that form the shield bash might seem at best a distraction or delay tactic, but when you consider the force one can place behind a shield attached to the forearm, the sheer weight of that strike coupled with what might be a heavy shield can become absolutely deadly.
Maces and Zweihanders fall under the same base principle. Regardless of how much armor or defense you muster the sheer impact can cause significant damage, especially in a strike to the head.
The only thing that might offer some contention is that Momiji isn't using a heavy shield but a small buckler. Though, as you've said her exceptional strength could probably counteract this.
No good picture for this update (sadly), but at least you have a choice.
After some time, you find yourself having tea at a small shop. You get a strange look followed by a shrug. Of course, someone like you is strange. It's a semi-outdoor affair as you sit on a stool which creaks somewhat ominously. You do what you can is lower the bevor to allow yourself to eat and drink.
“That was impressive,” says Momiji, smiling brightly.
You return with a grin of her own. Hers is quite infectious.
“So were you. Why does everyone go for the eyes?”
“Eyes?! I was aiming for your nose!”
“It's alright. I can heal and I got better. You got my nose too, so you hit the mark,” you say, trying to joke. It fails horribly and she gets even more concerned; you always were awkward with this sort of thing. It was something that endeared you to your wife, though she is long gone and her soul devoured. You'll never see her again.
Aya snaps you back to reality from your melancholy.
“Sorry, sorry,” you say.
“What's on your mind?”
“Sorry, just some silly introspection.”
“About what,” she asks, “Perhaps this could be useful for the article.”
“It's personal. I really would rather not talk about it.”
“I can understand. A good reporter knows when to back off,” she replies, smiling.
“So, what do you want to ask?” you say, wanting to simply deal with it now.
She crosses her legs and take out her notebook and a pencil.
“How old are you?”
“Now, roughly two-thousand years old.”
“What are you?”
“A phantasm bound to a set of cursed armor, in all honesty.”
“What did you do?”
“For most my existence, I've been a soldier. A brief stint, during my life, and most of my afterlife.”
She continues and you enjoy the pleasant morning which drifts away
“Well, I'm done for the moment. There are a few places you might want to go. You could go visit the ghost princess Yuyuko and learn about the ghosts here. You probably should see Reimu, the Hakurei shrine maiden and learn more about the rules of Gensokyo. Another person you might want to see would be the Yama of Xanadu and her subordinate, the shinigami.”
[X]Go see Reimu
[X]Go see Yuyuko
[X]Go see the Yama and shinigami
[X]Go see the Yama and shinigami
It'd be my first choice. First of all, I'm in the afterlife, so I may want to ask a judge how I'm doing so far.
Second, I'd want to meet the concept of death in this realm.
Having been one of Death's minions in another universe, it would probably be best to go ensure the local psychopomps that we have no intention of horning in on their turf. Especially so Komachi can't try to saddle us with all that work she keeps shirking.
...Okay, I admit it, I'm just trying to steer things toward Komachi's boobs.
...It is now pretty much required that we eventually beat someone up with their own weapons.
Something of a short update. I don't mind write-in options for this.
“I think I'll go see the Yama -Judge of the Dead, right- and your Death. Might as well see how things work for dead folks like me,” you say.
Aya crosses her legs and smiles.
“Go to hell.”
“Huh,” you say, most eloquently.
Aya breaks into full blown laughter, and Momiji smiles and chuckles.
“The Yama, Eiki Shiki, is usually in Hell, not the former Hell we call the Underground. You'd be better off going to the Sanzu River and asking for the shinigami, Komachi Onozuka to ferry you over to the bank. She'll be able to get you to the Yama.”
“Well, how do I get there?” you say.
“It really depends. Since, you're dead. Chances are, you'll simply end up there. But you ended up here rather than wandering to the Sanzu. There's another set of mountains. Go over them and you'll find the Sanzu. You'll see some other dead spirits and will probably need to cut in line. You might also meet Yukari.”
“Yukari, who's Yukari?” you ask.
“Yukari Yakumo, Youkai of Borders. Meeting her is something unique, but I imagine she will be asleep at this time. She's probably the most powerful being in Gensokyo. Don't anger her. Luckily, she's lazy, not malevolent.”
“I'll keep that in mind. I think I'll set out now.”
It was Momiji.
“If you would like, I'd be willing to go with you. Someone like you without danmaku would get into too many lethal fights. I might not be the best, but I think you could use the help.”
[X]Let Momiji come with you.
[X]You can handle yourself.
She's right, someone may want to simply say hello (danmaku for no good reason is basicly hello in Gensokyo) and then they get disected. This will piss off the shrine maiden and then our (un?)life will be full of incident.
“That's a shame. You're a bit too heavy for me to carry. I'm no crow tengu like Aya.”
“I can walk.”
“I don't doubt that, stranger.”
“Shall we get going?”
“Why not. Are there any supplies you need?”
“Nope. Food is appreciated but not necessary. Even then, I think we would be able to find something and kill it between the two of us,” you comment.
“I need to get a few things,” she says before running off.
“You didn't mention that!” exclaims Aya, “To think that you don't need to eat.”
“Aren't there others that are the same way?”
“Yeah, I suppose that's true. Yuyuko definitely loves food. Yukari can manipulate the border between hungry and filled, but she still eats,” she says, counting off the names on her figures, continuing through a few more.
You smile at this.
Momiji returns soon enough, carrying a backpack.
“I'm ready,” says the white-haired wolf.
“I'm also ready. Thank you for being such a kind host for me; I'll try to visit,” you say, addressing your last words to Aya.
“I'll see you later,” she replies, waving, as you walk off with Momiji.
You see an explosion, grand and awesome in the distance.
“What's that?” you ask rather calmy.
“Oh, I think that's Marisa and Patchouli. Marisa has this habit of stealing Patchouli's books. Patchouli takes them back with extreme firepower.”
“I was thinking of trying to spend the night at her house, but it might not be the best idea at the moment. What do you think?” she asks.
Sorry about the delay. Went to a convention, had RL stuff. Here's a new update. I do have a picture if you would like to see from the con of writefag in a gas mask.
Battle sings through your blood. It always has. To take up your axe and rip and tear. Even longer ago, you picked up a rifle and bayonet to do the same. The armor has its own effect. It definitely effects you. However, it merely makes the already-existing feelings stronger. It's too soon, too damn soon. You wanted to be finished with fighting. You never wanted to use the same wrath with which the God of War was slain again, but the instincts bubble to the surface. You tear your eyes away from the beautiful explosion of firepower. It is beautiful, attacks designed to beautiful as well as powerful. If their music of destruction is an angelic choir you feel as though yours would be a devil's symphony with guns for violins.
But these feelings must be crushed down. You must not give in to your base instincts. You must not become the merciless whirlwind of death and destruction you were. Abruptly, you tear your eyes away.
Trying keep the feelings of longing for the field of battle from your voice, you answer Momiji, saying, “I think it would be best for us to avoid it.”
“I can understand; the battles between those two can get pretty intense.”
If only that was your real reason. If only.
“Let's get going then,” says Momiji, smiling.
You take the winding path with her. The swishing and wagging of her tail is an unusually interesting sight. No other place you've visited has been like this Gensokyo. You proceed down the ragged path. While Momiji is capable of flight, you are satisfied by slipping and sliding down when it becomes too steep. It is surprisingly enjoyable. After some time, you eventually proceed to the bottom.
You and her both pause by a clear stream. Cool water is always nice. A crack, a sense of hostility and the axe is in your hand. A few creatures come forth. Then more until you and Momiji are surrounded by a good two dozen. Some are fairies. Some are other youkai.
One steps forth. A male fairy with black hair and a sextet of bat wings. He could pass for a demon, especially with all his scars and malevolent aura. However, there is a certain quality to the eyes that marks him down as a fae. Or more correctly, eye. A single, baleful eye glares while the other is covered by an eyepatch.
“Momiji. So pleasant to see you again. I was hoping you might come down from the mountain.”
The sword is in her hands and she backs up against you. It's not a reaction of fear, but an understanding of the value of fighting back to back.
He continues, “That sword of yours is a real nasty thing. My eye didn't grow back. The sense-sealing barrier was quite expensive, but revenge on you for that. Totally worth it. I have some friends with me. They aren't terribly fond of tengu like you either. It's just you and one man. What are you going to do now, bitch?”
[X]Try to suppress a chuckle, but fail, rapidly letting it escalate to raucous laughter. "One man? That's all your eye sees?"
-[X]If he takes a swing, demonstrate exactly what "one man" is capable of.
I get the feeling having an ally at our side will be new and different enough to stop us from reverting to berserking. We didn't flip the fuck out during the Momizi duel, either, so our fear of going RIP AND TEAR! may just be a bit unfounded.
[x]"A sore loser of a fair battle cries for help to his peers and tries to do with numbers what he couldn't with skill. I guess cowards are the same on all planes"
-[x]"Do what you must, Momiji, I'll cover your back"
[x]"A sore loser of a fair battle cries for help to his peers and tries to do with numbers what he couldn't with skill. I guess cowards are the same on all planes"
-[x]"Do what you must, Momiji, I'll cover your back"
The idiot is picking a fight with Momiji, let her smash the moron back down while we keep the chaff back.
[x]"A sore loser of a fair battle cries for help to his peers and tries to do with numbers what he couldn't with skill. I guess cowards are the same on all planes"
-[x]"Do what you must, Momiji, I'll cover your back"
You laugh. A fool. This damned fool. There's a certain quality about Momiji that tells you that this is her fight. It would just be between the two of them. That's fine.
“So,” you begin, “The sore loser of a fair fight come back with numbers to try what skill couldn't do. Don't make me laugh. I guess cowards are all the same.”
He directs his ire at you. You can feel the eyes turn upon you. He sees a mere man. You'll show him the indomitable power of a man's spirit.
“Momiji, this is your fight. I'll cover you back.”
She nods and clenches the hilt of her sword. You can sense a faint smile. She springs into action. So do you.
Free to let loose the war inside you, you strike. The axe cleaves and bodies fly apart. A head here and a an arm there. They might as well be chaff before you to be blown away. You can here the sounds Momiji's clash. A claw makes its way through a joint to no effect. You rip the claws wielder from you and use him as a bludgeon against his comrades. You throw him through a tree, mangling him.
By now, you've ripped a path of carnage through them and the remainder flee. Blood drips from your axe and blood coats your armor crimson. None is yours. Momiji has finished and has her sword in hand.
“Should have finished you off when I had the chance,” she says.
The fairie spits on her. The blade comes down and separates head from shoulders.
“Let's go,” she says coolly.
You survey the devastation.
“We might want to stay at the Kappa's village for the night. We could reach it by sundown. We could always continue on. I doubt anything would pose a threat between the two of us.”
You survey the carnage once more and ponder your answer.
“I would rather head out,” you state after some deliberation.
“Okay. I don't think anyone would want to mess with us now, anyway.”
You set out, continuing the journey onwards. Momiji moves to clean her gear.
“Aren't you going to?” she asks.
The axe disappears into a black smoke blown away into nowhere. You've never bothered to clean the blood off before. It just disappears. This normal question has you surprisingly stumped.
“Umm. Sure,” you say. She tosses you a rag from her pack, seeing as you lack one. You set about to cleaning the armor. It's a very enlightening experience. The many jagged edges and many rings of mail are not very kind to the rag she so graciously lent you.
“Sorry,” you say, handing back the scraps sheepishly.
She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“I really should have expected it.”
The two of you continue through the darkening forest. Nothing dares attack you. Perhaps it is luck, perhaps it is the bloodbath. Nonetheless, you press onward. Once the two of you find a broad clearing, you begin to set up camp. Momiji brought a tent, but you sleep outside. You gaze up into the foreign stars peeking out from between the branches.
Then, you rest as you wonder if you've truly found a home. That would be nice. Then it all fades to the luxury of sleep.
You wake up to Momiji prodding you.
“Let's eat and continue,” she says.
You accept the bowl of light soup with chunks of game meat gratefully and eat.
“Thank you, Momiji,” you say.
“That's alright. Let's move out, okay.”
You nod. You spend most of the day in an amiable silence until you come upon an empty village. Something about it draws you in.
Let me give a brief, if rather disappointing summary of events. The VN thing fell apart about 1/2 of the way through the first route, which was the battlecruiser SMS Derfflinger. I can write and code, but the music and art end fell through. It was a bit disappointing and I would still like to finish it. However, it does mean that there is good news for THP. I'm returning to write this. Pic is a small spoiler.
“You want to go in, don't you?” asks Momiji.
She had read you like an open book. You sigh.
“I do. I've got a bad feeling. Maybe what I did after I died, I can feel a pull on the strings of fate there. I don't like that feeling.”
“It's a weird thing for me. I'm aware of fate and causality, and I'm tied to it. At the same time, I'm also removed from fate.”
“Don't worry about it,” says Momiji, smiling, “Gensokyo is home to all sorts of people. Someone like you will fit right in.”
You want to smile, but you can't bring yourself to do so. You know yourself too well and know this feeling too well.
“I suppose it's time seize the day.”
“It's night, silly.”
“I can see perfectly fine.”
“And so can I.”
You begin to approach. You feel the presence of natural life. The insects are alive and make themselves heard. You breathe a sigh of relief. The buildings take the appearance of those in rural Chinese villages. You've seen places like this before, when you were alive. It's refreshingly familiar. But you can almost feel the laughter of a watching god.
“Do you recognize this village?”
“Yes. Chen Yakumo sometimes uses it as a playground. A few years back, there was an Incident and Reimu Hakurei, Marisa Kirisama, and Sakuya Izayoi fought with Chen here. Spring almost didn't come that year.”
She chuckled at the memory and continued, “That's life in Gensokyo for you.”
You sense a presence and draw your axe.
“Come out from your hiding place! I know you're here!” you yell.
“The old man was better than the doggy,” comes a cheerful and childish voice.
A multicolored ball rolls in front of you two. The ball springs up and you get a better look at the young-looking girl. She is wearing a poofy hat, and her red dress bears a bit of resemblance to a Mao suit. You laugh to yourself that the first thing you thought of was a Mao suit.
“Who are you?”
“I'm-” she says, extending the wait dramatically.
“This is Chen,” says Momiji.
“You aren't much fun. You're just as serious as you look.”
Chen turns to you and asks, “Do you want to play?”
--[X]Ask about the game
>The name of the spell shall be recorded on paper in the same form as this contract.
>This paper will be called the "spell card".
The "spell card" system simply requires you write down some very specific attacks you're capable of - quite literally a "named attack" - possibly implying that they're reviewed, somehow, for suitability. (Or at least subject to review.) In other words, "tournament-legal." And you announce, before the battle, how many different ones you'll use - and the rules stipulate that class is just as important as brute strength in achieving victory.
So it's very much a formal dueling arrangement; with "spell cards" being formally announced, (possibly reviewed and approved) maneuvers you're allowed to use. In-universe this allows for godlike beings to coexist in tiny Gensokyo without blowing it to hell, out-of-Universe it lets ZUN introduce ever more insanely powerful fuckers without fans wondering how the fuck X could ever challenge Y's bullshit power Z.
Now, note the wrinkle here: there's nothing to stop a character from using their "spell card" outside of a duel, as a lethal weapon - which they'd probably only do if they're prone to hamming it up and want to trade on the fame of their "trademark" attack or skill. Alternately, the defender could recognize the "spell card" being thrown at them, although with the understanding that they're facing the full-out fury of the attacker's abilities, not the charmingly restrained, super-pretty version used for formal duels.
Thanks especially for the PMiSS link. Lot's of good information that I'll use to improve the story. I'm waiting for a few (1-2ish) more votes to begin writing. I'm not holding it hostage for votes; I just want a slightly larger field to help gauge how I'll write some the particulars.