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I don't care.

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I don't care.

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Total Members Voted: 0

Voting closed: January 04, 2021, 02:28:47 am

[Superdorf]

...Huh. Has Lucille finally realized that we're not McCreary?

Regardless, we should still probably go choke down some nutrient paste somewhere. After that... we need to go consult with William about this patricide he's got planned.

[Naturegirl1999]

They have, remember? The defensive lines are shrinking
Also that was odd, the no’ing of checking the srmor
We should still find something to eat, whether or not we use the armor

[ZBridges]

We do know the lines are shrinking, but we don't know why.

[19_EgarAlnis]

[11]You leave the compound, feeling free for the first time in a long while. You take in the glow of the morning sun, drifting over the spires of the Golden City of the Holy SEED. You don't think your guard noticed you sneaking out. You approach a withered debt-slave at a newspaper stand, and buy each and every paper from the many publishers within the Holy City. You find yourself a chair nearby in a bar on one of the lower levels of the Outer City and eavesdrop while reading through them.

[5] The papers are devoted propaganda sources. There's barely any mention of casualties and the mentions that are there downplay the significance. But, as several advertisements show; SEED is recruiting heavily. Debt slaves are being promised freedom and a plot of land in the new to be settled western province-- formerly the no-mans-land. Not to mention a bunch advertising service to SEED...hell, eight out of the ten newspapers in this city town are gossip rags or spout the lines given to them by the administration.

[17] You do notice a follow-up story concerning your supposed love life with a Family-born Emma Thornton, which amuses you to no end, considering that its from the Thornton owned press, and lists a 'anonymous source' from within your compound. But what really makes you laugh is that it's Emma's style of writing.

[11] Many of the patrons seem to be missing limbs. They have crude plastic prostheses. They drink in somber silence, only interrupting it to cheer a name or raise a toast. You can tell, simply by looking at them, the war is going bad. This is no poor man's drinking hall, no speakeasy serving cheap gin. It's close to the hoverport, and these men have the look of the middle class in their clean outfits and careful speech.

[-.20 credits] You order yourself the daily special, the only meal this place sellsl, and the Chef brings it out to you. Baby potatoes, [beast of burden, cow, beef] steak and some assorted fall vegetables. Its salty, and buttery, and delicious, and you eat your fill. The chef might have recognized you. He brings you out an extra loaf of bread and a small, sweet cake that's slightly stale. You pay only for your drink and the meal-- the dessert and bread were free.

[-] You make your way back to the compound, catching the odd eye of the passerby. Occasionally, someone bows, and you dip your head politely.

William is in the range, keeping a burner las-rifle steadily braced with one arm as he lays on the floor. He glances back towards you-- no, it would be better to explain it as he shrinks before you...His willpower, which leaks like a sieve, flees before your's instinctively. He looks momentarily concerned, before, offering, sheepishly, hesitantly. "Its different...seeing you like this."

[ZBridges]

We need to marshal as much strength as we can.  If we can create these supersoldiers with our blood, then perhaps...?

If possible, lessen the intensity of our willpower for a moment.  "This new situation will take some getting used to, but I have a feeling that you're going to like it."

[Superdorf]

We need to marshal as much strength as we can.  If we can create these supersoldiers with our blood, then perhaps...?

I am... reluctant to wield our own blood so carelessly. If our father's warnings are anything to go by, there's a significance to blood that we don't yet understand-- we could release a plague, or cripple ourself, if we were to give our blood away too freely. We don't know.

Anyway, William. If we're going to make an acolyte of him, we'd better start acting the part.


"Hm. I have shaken your ego, I think." (Smile thin.) "Ego, by which man looks upon the world and declares: 'I AM.' Ego, by which man would become god. You have seen ego made manifest. You are shaken. I regret this."

...

"I have had words with Emma. Let us speak now of patricide."

[ZBridges]

We should tell him that we regret saving his life?

[Naturegirl1999]

We should tell him that we regret saving his life?

i thought the regret was leaving him shaken, maybe we should tell him more about us so he has a better idea about his new body

[ZBridges]

Ah I see, thanks.

[ZBridges]

We need to marshal as much strength as we can.  If we can create these supersoldiers with our blood, then perhaps...?

I am... reluctant to wield our own blood so carelessly. If our father's warnings are anything to go by, there's a significance to blood that we don't yet understand-- we could release a plague, or cripple ourself, if we were to give our blood away too freely. We don't know.

Anyway, William. If we're going to make an acolyte of him, we'd better start acting the part.


"Hm. I have shaken your ego, I think." (Smile thin.) "Ego, by which man looks upon the world and declares: 'I AM.' Ego, by which man would become god. You have seen ego made manifest. You are shaken. I regret this."

...

"I have had words with Emma. Let us speak now of patricide."

+1.  Perhaps tell him about us so he can better understand what he's going through.

[Superdorf]

Yeah, was that we regret having had to completely redefine him in the process of saving him-- not that we regret having saved him in first place.

Let's try a revision, with a little more clarity and a little more comfort?

"Hm. I have shaken your ego, I think." (Smile thin.) "Ego, by which man looks upon the world and declares: 'I AM.' Ego, by which man would become god. You have seen ego made manifest. You are shaken. I am regretful, to have shaken you thus."

...

Speak soft. Reassuring-like. "You'll get used to it. You've a spark of the 'I AM' yourself, now-- just enough to open your eyes."
"I have had words with Emma. Let us speak now of patricide."

[ZBridges]

Yeah, was that we regret having had to completely redefine him in the process of saving him-- not that we regret having saved him in first place.

Let's try a revision, with a little more clarity and a little more comfort?

"Hm. I have shaken your ego, I think." (Smile thin.) "Ego, by which man looks upon the world and declares: 'I AM.' Ego, by which man would become god. You have seen ego made manifest. You are shaken. I am regretful, to have shaken you thus."

...

Speak soft. Reassuring-like. "You'll get used to it. You've a spark of the 'I AM' yourself, now-- just enough to open your eyes."
"I have had words with Emma. Let us speak now of patricide."

+1, though it does sound slightly mad in my opinion.

[19_EgarAlnis]

[10] You try to relieve the pressure of will you're putting on William, and he does seem to relax a little.

"I'll take that as praise, Pheobe, and I can't express how grateful I am...but it was...more a change in perspective." William explains, softly, after listening to you intently, "I might-- I might -have- been one of the best soldiers on this [planet]. I was training since I could stand. I was taught how to kill ruthlessly, how to crush an enemy stronghold beneath my feet while simultaneously telling everyone else that this is what happens when you fuck with the Thorntons. Do you know how many thousands of credits went into my training? Too many."

"And all it took was one swat from that thing, and my insides were my outsides. My armor tore like paper. My rifle was worthless. I knew I was dead. That was it—one swipe. I didn't want to die like that. Choking on my blood while everyone I cared about died around me." William lines up a shot, the air hisses, and the rifle strikes true, melting a piece of plastic from the training dummy in a pop of plastic. "But did you know what I wanted? To be stronger. To challenge a god of death by myself and -win-."

"And then my prayers were answered." William finishes, glancing back to you, aiming down the cheap iron-sights-- wouldn't they be called plastic sights if they were on a plastic weapon? "The only cost was...my mind, my future children, and my backbone when it comes to you. I still don't know if it was a fair trade."

The rifle gives the soft hiss that one can only hear in tranquil conditions, the coolant rapidly cooling the focusing arrays and transferring away some of the heat and energy vented. The target's head explodes into a little pop of plastic. "I'm hoping there isn't any. That he steps down, he's been sick for ten years now. He trained me to succeed him. It isn't a good time, but it isn't going to get better. If he doesn't step down, I'll challenge him to a duel. Hopefully, to injury."

The Crusader Armorer replaces the target for William, who leans into the barrel, breathing out a short breath. "And if he refuses, then...I'll kill him. I want you there to be back up. Watch my back. Show off that terrifying presence of your's. Most of them will be smart not to turn a gun on the heir apparent." The rifle gives a soft hiss, and the target loses its head once again.

[ZBridges]

"Why not just wait?  You are the heir, after all."

[Superdorf]

Huh, good question that.

"Good. I worried what you might do, when first you spoke of this-- but you respect the blood of your own." Smile.

"I am curious, though..."

"Why not just wait?  You are the heir, after all."

Ask this.