[ lots of weird locations today and they might all look too hard at the eclipse and have a lil organ failure but it's fine. no biggie. more importantly, give me a memshare immediately onegai ]
a rift opens and swallows gay boy and shark prince.
you stand on the ornate stage of an opera house, scaled down to fit within the confines of the ambassador's expansive manor. no balcony seating, but plenty of rows to accommodate the show's current audience. it's a full house tonight.
an older woman gracefully dances overhead, wrapped in floating sphere of fire. sain and corryn, your companions, stand beneath. corryn must be figuring out the right spell for their situation. sain can only stare at his mother twirling in the flames above.
you need to deal with the other problem.
there's a monster, a mass of black ooze with mannequin limbs poking out at upsetting angles, machinery jammed into the ichor as if it were once a mechanism that had burst apart.
you hurl yourself full-body at the abomination. speed is what you have, speed and keys are what you depend on. you deliver a flurry of blows (hehe) to the monster from one side and then the next. beating it incessantly until the creature sputters and collapses.
corryn casts moonbridge--creates a tangible band of pure light that lets sain ascend and approach the flaming orb. sain shouts, "Mother!"
the dancing woman faints and her son catches her.
another spell from corryn manifests radiant light that pierces the monster hobbled by your blows. good kid. always thinking.
you thrust your full arm into the creature and wrench out a still-beating molten core heart.
something jagged pierces your palm when you crush the heart, so you drop the core back onto the bloated contraption-corpse. a mouth appears, swimming within the gore--just long enough to say:
"Killing me only freed me from her service. Now you have to deal with her yourselves."
the spotlights swing back into the seats. the audience is comprise of mannequins wearing human skin suits, clothes sewn on.
in the very back, behind the last row, scarlet, the tiefling child, stands where you left her. you saved her life two rounds ago. supposedly. less certain of that when the kid splits apart.
what seemed so well constructed a moment ago, a perfect little girl, erupts and reshapes. wider, wider, a form that threatens to tear through the theater's ceiling. great taloned feet crush the puppet audience as the massive figure rushes the stage. when it scrambles upward, you leap backwards to avoid being crushed.
it's a red dragon. a big, scary dragon with scales over a foot in length and eyeballs taller than you are.
"And now I have the Othūn and the tapestry," says scarlet-now-a-dragon. (her real name is letta the puppetmaster, you'll realize later.)
so, what can you do? you raise your voice, you shout, "I promised I'd play with you after the show!"
and she hesitates, the brat. "You'll keep your promise?"
"Of course. You just have to let those three leave."
sain and corryn protest. they don't want this. they've both lost so much, not that guy they've been tolerating, too! but you know this is the only way anyone gets out alive. it was a quick calculation. an adult dragon versus three low-levels and a knocked out npc.
"You can go after them once you're done with me. If they can escape the manor before you finish, you leave them alone for now. How about it?"
to quiet the kids, you add on: "Sain, you have what you came for. You need to go."
they do, corryn lingering at the end, staring at you with fully black eyes before turning to race out after sain and his unconscious mother.
you turn back to letta.
the second part of this boss battle is short. you survive several rounds through sheer speed, leaping off the stage and running along the backs of the theater seats. (okay, once, you scrambles over a corpse-mannequin. bad squishy.)
you don't attack letta. you're here to buy time.
when she hits you, you sail, smack hard into a weight-bearing pillar--so hard it leaves a crack in the marble. lots of cracks in you. before you can stand, she grasps you between her talons and tosses you back to the stage. the wood splinters beneath you. ow.
letta takes her time following. you have a moment to rise to your feet.
it's only been a few minutes but that will have to be enough. you're a monk, not a cleric, not a priest, not a saint, and you don't care about the gods and you've never had their favor. when you clasp your hands and stare letta down, you reach out to the hearth mother because she owes sain, not you.
Get them out. after everything, let this be enough. it's a final, defiant demand.
here is your death. what you have earned. what you avoided yet longed for.
letta lowers her jaw. the fire that engulfs you is white-hot. you surrender.
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w7 ; mon
no subject
a rift opens and swallows gay boy and shark prince.
you stand on the ornate stage of an opera house, scaled down to fit within the confines of the ambassador's expansive manor. no balcony seating, but plenty of rows to accommodate the show's current audience. it's a full house tonight.
an older woman gracefully dances overhead, wrapped in floating sphere of fire. sain and corryn, your companions, stand beneath. corryn must be figuring out the right spell for their situation. sain can only stare at his mother twirling in the flames above.
you need to deal with the other problem.
there's a monster, a mass of black ooze with mannequin limbs poking out at upsetting angles, machinery jammed into the ichor as if it were once a mechanism that had burst apart.
you hurl yourself full-body at the abomination. speed is what you have, speed and keys are what you depend on. you deliver a flurry of blows (hehe) to the monster from one side and then the next. beating it incessantly until the creature sputters and collapses.
corryn casts moonbridge--creates a tangible band of pure light that lets sain ascend and approach the flaming orb. sain shouts, "Mother!"
the dancing woman faints and her son catches her.
another spell from corryn manifests radiant light that pierces the monster hobbled by your blows. good kid. always thinking.
you thrust your full arm into the creature and wrench out a still-beating molten core heart.
something jagged pierces your palm when you crush the heart, so you drop the core back onto the bloated contraption-corpse. a mouth appears, swimming within the gore--just long enough to say:
"Killing me only freed me from her service. Now you have to deal with her yourselves."
the spotlights swing back into the seats. the audience is comprise of mannequins wearing human skin suits, clothes sewn on.
in the very back, behind the last row, scarlet, the tiefling child, stands where you left her. you saved her life two rounds ago. supposedly. less certain of that when the kid splits apart.
what seemed so well constructed a moment ago, a perfect little girl, erupts and reshapes. wider, wider, a form that threatens to tear through the theater's ceiling. great taloned feet crush the puppet audience as the massive figure rushes the stage. when it scrambles upward, you leap backwards to avoid being crushed.
it's a red dragon. a big, scary dragon with scales over a foot in length and eyeballs taller than you are.
"And now I have the Othūn and the tapestry," says scarlet-now-a-dragon. (her real name is letta the puppetmaster, you'll realize later.)
so, what can you do? you raise your voice, you shout, "I promised I'd play with you after the show!"
and she hesitates, the brat. "You'll keep your promise?"
"Of course. You just have to let those three leave."
sain and corryn protest. they don't want this. they've both lost so much, not that guy they've been tolerating, too! but you know this is the only way anyone gets out alive. it was a quick calculation. an adult dragon versus three low-levels and a knocked out npc.
"You can go after them once you're done with me. If they can escape the manor before you finish, you leave them alone for now. How about it?"
to quiet the kids, you add on: "Sain, you have what you came for. You need to go."
they do, corryn lingering at the end, staring at you with fully black eyes before turning to race out after sain and his unconscious mother.
you turn back to letta.
the second part of this boss battle is short. you survive several rounds through sheer speed, leaping off the stage and running along the backs of the theater seats. (okay, once, you scrambles over a corpse-mannequin. bad squishy.)
you don't attack letta. you're here to buy time.
when she hits you, you sail, smack hard into a weight-bearing pillar--so hard it leaves a crack in the marble. lots of cracks in you. before you can stand, she grasps you between her talons and tosses you back to the stage. the wood splinters beneath you. ow.
letta takes her time following. you have a moment to rise to your feet.
it's only been a few minutes but that will have to be enough. you're a monk, not a cleric, not a priest, not a saint, and you don't care about the gods and you've never had their favor. when you clasp your hands and stare letta down, you reach out to the hearth mother because she owes sain, not you.
Get them out. after everything, let this be enough. it's a final, defiant demand.
here is your death. what you have earned. what you avoided yet longed for.
letta lowers her jaw. the fire that engulfs you is white-hot. you surrender.
and boom memory over. ]