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Snuggie && Porcupine = Most Ridiculous Defense (A Ridiculous Offense) 1/?
I impale the ground beneath me with my Magma Pig Spear. The pig mouth flies open and starts exerting its control over magma. As the head vacuums in lava, the glorious sounds of oinking accompanies the attack. The Pigman army is coming in defence of their new lord, the Crispy Bacon King (referring to the mounted pig head).
Redstone Torch II Redstone II Iron Sword = Charged Blade 1/???
Areos, Swordsman 1/5 (/null Neo died so suddenly? Daww, crap.)
Neo Ultima 6/15
Dominus Knight attempts to scratch the body of the Soul of the Core with his sword.
I attempt to drink the Lemon-Lime Gatorade of Animated Blobbiness, making an annoying slurping sound in hopes of also hurting Uzi!
Calzerb attacks the Head of the Soul Thingy with his staff!
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
I just took the Minecraft Noob test! Check out what I scored. Think you can beat me?!
To take the test, check out http://minecraftnoobtest.com/test.php
Project M05-NetHack.exe (26/40) (+2 from tc2142, +2 from Twin)
+2 to Serpent
Action
I pull out an octagonal basalt wand, forty-three centimeters in length. Inscribed on its length in the Cobalt Shade Corporation Squarecode is ⊟▣◫ ▧▣⊠⊡⊞◪ ◨◨▧ ▧⊠◫⊠⊠, which translates to "Cobalt Shade Corporation Wand of Shielding". I zap it at the Soul of the Core and it immediately gains three shields around it which will each take one attack from an entity.
This server has every mod in existence, seeing as so many people are just travelling in time willy-nilly, the godmodders are assumed to have that power too, and have installed mods from 2015, including tinker's construct for 1.7.10 and extra utilities for 1.7.10 (latest version as of now ie 2015).
Alchemies
The Cursed Blade Kikoku (+7 physical dmg, +2 divine dmg, +4 armor piercing) || The Bane of Pigs(21,474,836 physical dmg) = The Bane of Godmodders(1/6)
The Bane of Godmodders is a weapon that (hopefully) will even be able to do lots of damage to the Godmodder (notice the 'G').
I'm obviously on Richard's team.
+1 charge to anyone who wants it.
also, would you MSPA readers click on the like button for me? I'd like to know how many of you there are, playing this 1337 game.
The Meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything.
Join Date:
6/16/2013
Posts:
232
Member Details
I examine Bestal's "Spatial Rending and Other Useful Space Magic Techniques", reading through the tome for anything of interest.
Now, there's some other megalithic beast we get to killmurder over a short period of time, this time neutral. Excellent.
50/50 Expended.
I look at the Soul of the Core, attempting to decide what I might do to it with my temporary exponential increase in power. However, I am interrupted by a ringing noise coming from my computer. I sigh, clicking the Trollian tab.
Pesterlog
— atrophicTachyon [AT] began trolling terminalAutocrat [TA] at 00:27 --
. AT: GIVEN YOUR CURRENT POSITION DIRECTLY BEFORE A SOMEWHAT HELLISH BEING WITH VAST COMMAND OVER THE GRAVITATIONAL FORCE (IF MY KNOWLEDGE SERVES ME CORRECTLY), I WOULD PRESUME YOU NEED SOME FORM OF AID.
TA: i suppose
TA: im pretty okay by myself but if you want to do something go ahead
TA: i dont really care
TA: at all
AT: SIMPLY SCATHING.
AT: REGARDLESS, I HAVE CHOSEN TO INFORM YOU OF THE DISPATCH OF FLEET NINE HUNDRED FORTY-SIX TO THE RED SUN.
TA: wait
TA: youre actually going through with that
TA: i thought it was supposed to be too dangerous
AT: THE PROJECT IN QUESTION WAS NEVER CONSIDERED IN ANY MANNER WHATSOEVER FOR CANCELLATION. IT IS RATHER FOOLISH OF YOU TO SUGGEST OTHERWISE.
TA: why are you telling me this
AT: YOU COULD USE THE BYPRODUCT, CORRECT?
TA: rhetorical question
AT: IT WAS NOT AN INQUIRY. IT WAS A FACT, AND THEN A QUESTION MARK.
AT: 946 SHOULD BE IN THE ADEQUATE ORBITAL POSITION WITHIN THE HOUR. USE EVERYTHING OFFERED TO YOU WISELY.
TA: thats kind of pointless seeing as you could literally just make me use it how you wanted
AT: PERCHANCE. IT WOULD BE MORE INTERESTING TO SAVE YOUR USE AS A CONDUIT FOR SOME TIME LATER IN THE PROCESS, HOWEVER.
TA: oh?
AT: YES. I KNOW HOW MUCH YOU DETEST THE OCCURRENCE, AND IT WOULD BE MORE ENJOYABLE TO PREPARE TO FULLY ABSORB YOUR ABSOLUTE DISCOMFORT AND TERROR.
TA: shut up
AT: YOUR ASININE REMARKS ONLY STRENGTHEN THE POSSIBILITY THAT MY PREDICTION IS CORRECT.
TA: one hour right
AT: ARE YOU INCAPABLE OF LOOKING SEVERAL LINES IN AN UPWARD DIRECTION?
TA: yes i might die if i try
AT: YOU ARE FORTUNATE THIS IS NOT ACTUALLY THE CASE. SUCH A DISABILITY IS CERTAINLY CAUSE FOR EXECUTION.
TA: yeah ive read the law books i get it
TA: bye
. - terminalAutocrat [TA] ceased trolling atrophicTachyon [AT] at 00:39 --
I sigh. Time to wait a little, I suppose.
~
Elsewhere in reality, we examine a large red sphere floating in the middle of an eternal void. Whilst this object should not technically exist at this point chronologically, it does, due primarily to the way space and time, amongst other aspects, function in this particular area of The Void.
This sphere's mass is equivalent to that of around two universes, give or take, and it is indeed the Red Sun. It is not as if there was any confusion on the matter. Whilst others of greater authorial skill might attempt to be the star itself, I will not. In fact, we shall just wait here, watching. Minutes pass by uneventfully, and nothing seems to occur, especially not whatever is intended to occur here.
But it will, soon.
Suddenly, the fabric of reality in a perfectly circular ring around the Sun begins to fold and warp, looking quite worse for wear, as if someone—or something—were attempting to force its way through the very fabric of reality. Sparks of mauve energy begin to leap off of this folds in spacetime, and some sort of wrenching force blasts anything near the gigantic ball of plasma away from it at speeds nigh-unfathomable. Mere moments afterward, the ring of space around the Sun erupts into a mauve inferno, pure, unadulterated vis pouring out of the perfectly symmetrical tear into Nihil Parva. Shapes begin to emerge from the singular monolithic rift, auric vis pounding against what appear to be wards intensely enough to see without need for Goggles of Revealing.
The obscured forms all drift out of the rift, before the thing closes with what would have been an audible boom, had there been any matter to project sound through. In the flash emitted by the closing of the rift, it becomes painfully evident that every single one of these shapes is a massive Grayholdian starship, some emblazoned with a faded Amethyst Mark, others with a far newer, more abstract gray symbol. Every single ship should be capable enough to fly straight into the Red Sun unharmed, seeing as they are designed to function perfectly in a plane wherein literally unlimited amounts of pure energy annihilate any physical matter within their domain, whilst also seeping into the world through small puncture nodes. The largest flagship's central command tower blinks with a deep cobalt light before reverting to the standard white, and all of the other ships seem to align in formation with it, all flying on a singular circuitous path in the massive star's orbit, searching for something.
This continues for several hours, the ships all carefully scanning the surface of the Red Sun. This is ordinarily a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, after all. How many other chances are you going to get to study such a thing? Suddenly, the main flagship begins to descend, the other ships swiftly following suit, emitting plumes of multicolored energy from their wards as the heat of the star fails to damage the fleet in any manner whatsoever. The main flagship sinks further, dangerously close to the surface of the Sun. Mere kilometers above the surface, the thing stops, levitating in orbit, coated in an aura of pure psionic energy powered by the… engine cores. Let's call them that. The other ships all surround the flagship, forming some sort of bizarre circular shape, an imperceptible blot on the Sun's absolutely gargantuan size.
Within the flagship, multiple things are occurring. The hissing of essentia tubes is painfully evident to all within. However, that is not of import at the present. What is, however, is what has been deemed the Portal Room, which is strangely bereft of any portals in any fashion whatsoever at the current moment. The other ships in the fleet begin to all dock with this monolithic flagship, golems rushing about the metallic prisons frantically, but in an orderly fashion. One might call it organized chaos. Anyhow, the portal room contains nothing more but an energized aura node place within both a Stabilizer and Transfuser. Upon command, a psionic is brought into the room, holding a curiously crafted Balanced Shard in gloved hands. They march over to the node, peering at it under large goggles, before carefully sliding the shard into the mass of energy, and standing back.
The node begins to pulsate and warp the instant the crystal is inserted, growing larger and larger. Within moments, it is easily a fifth of the room's size. The psionic takes several more steps back, before shrugging and exiting the room. The node pulsates and vibrates, growing steadily larger, before an ear-shredding blast can be heard from anywhere across the ship. If one were to examine the node once more, they would find that it served as a veritable gateway to Grayhold's current position in Nihil Parva, forging a link. Moments after this occurs, a number of smaller ships dive off of the flagship, and straight onto the surface of the Red Sun, landing without any difficulty with precise magnetic locks and arcane propulsion. These ships instantaneously start blinking with a dark maroon light as the main function of the operation at hand occurs. Extremely small amounts of plasma are sapped from the star, and precisely contained in tubes of heavily warded void glass, and loaded into each ship's storage bay with the utmost care, the bottom of the ships temperature bypassing the wards to a minuscule extent. Still, this means we are on a timer here.
As swiftly and cautiously as possible, substance is drawn from the massive star, and placed into the storage of each of the ships. This process continues for some time, until the storage bays of each of the ships are full. Then, they all promptly detach themselves from the two-universe-large star, and fly back to the fleet, cooling somewhat.
The ships all dock successfully, and the airlocks open, hundreds of golems marching out of the bays carrying tubes of contained plasma, all heading toward the portal room. The golems file through the thing the instant they reach the room, entering Grayhold Citadel, which is currently in a much more tactically sound position.
The golems are met by a large amount of living automatons emitting slight necromantic energies, and place each of the tubes into racks carefully, before heading back through the portal. The moment a rack is filled, a necromantic automaton grabs it, and marches off toward what was the Grand Library last time any of you saw the place. They pass through long, utterly pitch-black hallways, up and down numerous staircases, and past a number of odd doors and entryways into other projects in the fortress on their way to the Grand Library. The second they enter the antechamber directly before the Grand Library, they move over to the side, and begin to slide the tubes into esoteric sockets, which instantly drain the plasma within, sending it to fuel something or other. Quite anticlimactic. Fleet 946 remains floating above the Red Sun, stationed there as the newly-formed Grayholdian outpost above one of the most powerful sources of pure energy in reality.
~
I stand around, waiting, for several hours, mildly irritated, and somewhat more disappointed. At around hour three, I just take my hands off of my keyboard, and grab some book or other, beginning to read. I am drawn from my book around ten minutes later when a blinking notification appears upon my screen. I set the book aside, and click the 'x' on the notification moments after reading it, taking control of my avatar once more.
I leap into the air, pulsating with teal light as I watch the Soul of the Core, detaching myself from the force of gravity completely. My vision begins to grow red at the edges. I fly some distance away from the Soul, still watching intently. Let's see if they carried through.
My vision flashes with red light sporadically, my aura shifting to pure red several times, before returning to the initial teal. I feel a twitching sensation in the back of my eyes. Oh, wait. That means that—yes, that's just occurred. Where ordinarily gray energy would burst forth from my two major facial orifices, the eye color of my avatar shifts from its standard teal to a deep gray suggesting occult and twisted things, my skin paling somewhat, though not entirely, before my irises shift to solid red. My aura is fully crimson as well, at this point.
I examine the Soul of the Core carefully, deciding what to do as arcane and temporal potency brought to life rage within me. A spinning pure scarlet wheel appears behind me, flickering for several seconds before transforming into the face of a clock, the hands ticking forward slowly. The hands of the clock abruptly glow with a gray aura, and begin spinning wildly, bolts of Red Sun energy sparking off of both my form and the face of the holographic clock.
I point a finger at one of the Soul's heads, and snap. Everything goes scarlet for a brief moment, until I wave my hand somewhat. Meanwhile, the Soul of the Core is undergoing massive damage transcending gravity to two of its heads. Bolts and gossamer-fine strings of red energy alike are slamming into the heads, pounding against them with the unadulterated fury of the Red Sun, annihilating magma effortlessly. However, the damage the heads are taking is in no way proportional to the amount of energy being released. This is because there are currently bolts of energy I sent into the past to bombard the Soul's heads from slightly earlier parts on the timeline. The temporal energies along with the power of the nigh-limitless crimson star eradicate the heads, time magics accelerating the magma upon them to future and past points on its timeline, some of it merely disappearing, other bits transforming into various types of igneous rock that crumbles away, annihilated by the pure force of accelerating time itself.
The sorceries at work do not even bother to deal with Traho, or anything below the heads. If we take care of these, there is nothing it can do but die. Scarlet fire races across the past and future, barely scratching the present, whilst thousands of stars worth of energy are just unloaded into the Soul of the Core's heads, with the intent to destroy and leave naught behind. Eldritch forces take hold of the situation somewhat, locking the heads in place to prevent causing paradoxes by rendering future blasts of energy unable to strike the Soul. Essentially, its either the Soul just submits, and takes an ungodly amount of energy directly to its three heads from the future, or attempts, and quite literally certainly fails, to move and cause a paradox that would almost certainly annihilate it.
The scarlet wheel containing the clock slowly vanishes, and I zoom around the now-immobile Soul as its heads begin to take the very beginning of the blasts from the future, my aura tearing red miles into the deep blue sky. I wave my hand, and one of the Soul's heads rapidly begins to convert between past and future states, showing varying amounts of damage, and occasionally just transforming into large patches of igneous rock, which disintegrates nigh-instantaneously. Hah. Excellent.
I observe the situation befalling the Soul with mild interest as hundreds of inescapable stars worth of energy and time smash into the thing's heads, devoid of any influence from gravity until it is spent, wherein gravitational influence is useless. I speak, my voice light with hints of mild to low amusement.
TA: Shaggwgah'n, ye mnahn'fm'latgh ftaghu. Ya gotha ooboshu phlegethoth. Shogg r'luh.
TA: It's kind of hilarious how this ended up turning out, actually.
I promptly point a finger gun at one of the Soul's heads. This would not ordinarily be very threatening at all, if not for the fact that vast amounts of crimson energy were racing down my fingertips, and energizing an already excessively powerful aura charged with the very essence of the Red Sun. I watch, suddenly silent. The very last of the future-bombardment is occurring. After that finishes up, the thing will be able to move its heads without creating a paradox, so I'll have to be swift.
The very last of the bolts of time-altered blasts straight from a vast crimson star rage against the Soul's heads, and it is able to move once more. I watch and wait, crimson energy rolling off of my form, and thick smoke off of the Soul's. I stare for several more instants, before pulling the metaphorical trigger to the finger gun, pressing my thumb down.
An absolutely cyclopean beam of pure scarlet radiating with the essence of time and space erupts from my index finger at speeds slightly exceeding that of light, striking one of the Soul's heads nigh-instantaneously, seeing as the thing itself is unable to be affected by gravity, held on course by the power Tazz himself utilizes, and will be utilizing whilst reading this.
The head in question is immediately obscured from the view of anyone with sight in any way whatsoever, searing red miles into their retinas with light alone. The blast's energy is infused ridiculously thoroughly with the essence of time, to the extent that the blast actually damages the head in the past, without the need to travel back. I close my eyes as the last vestiges of pseudo-unlimited energy pour from my fingertip, slamming into a singular head with power enough to annihilate it completely and utterly, though I doubt this will occur—or at least based on this section of the attack alone.
Shockwaves of arcane power bent to my will rage across the Battlefield, inspiring strange visions in the minds of the intellectuals amongst us, and formless power in the minds of the others. This does not affect any godmodders or entities that are not the Soul of the Core, sadly. I stare down a remaining head on the Soul, my eyes burning like quasars with the blazing light of the eternal Red Sun, along with hints of elder knowledge and arcane thought. My aura flickers several times, before I streak toward the ground, forming a small crater upon impact, red energy streaming behind me. The aura fades away slowly into teal, my eyes doing the same just as my skin regains whatever color it lost. I blink several times, and examine whatever carnage I made. Splendiferous.
(Yes, that was all part of the 50 post charge there.)
Spatial Energies && Blank Spell Tome = Bestal's "Spatial Rending and Other Useful Space Magic Techniques" (6/6!)
NEW: Antique Sword && Note Block && Metronome (1/???)
(+2 to Generic)
(Spatial) Maelstrom 21/30 (+2 from Crystal) //////////////////////////////. (Scarlet) Sunslammer: 50/50! (+2 from Crystal) ///////////////////////////////////////////////////.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
VUM, ME QBIXX PIYE IV AVPERWAQQAUV, UD QURPQ;
CU! RENEX AV PBE WUUVXACBP OVFER PBE GUORPQ.
~~~
Kar nfnuvvh qoyekc-wmyk nhrvrgwkcs; kie whiznuw; klh zsiek nmor pxgpfhh kce psl wkuh ik cfyu xptzgvrfk.
UNDER HEAVEN DESTRUCTION: 35/50 (+2 from Fseftr, +2 from UserZero)
Best Pun Ever: 8/50
+2 to Fseftr
Handgun && Phantom Essence -> Phantom Gun (3/3)
Aperture Science Mashy Spike Plate && Explosive Reactive Armor || Slab of Metal && Large Wooden Shield -> Blastspike Exoskeleton (3/5)
Walker stares at the Soul of the Core for a few seconds, before deciding that it's really not worth the risk of going after. Besides, why take that thing down when it'd be so much more fun to, say, torture the hell out of the Dominus Knight, who really doesn't look all that well protected... So of course, Walker charges right up to the Dominus Knight, pulls out the I Don't Even Know Yet, and runs him through with it, spins around, slashes off his armor, then pulls out the recently-acquired Phantom Gun and pistol whips the Dominus Knight right in the face, crushing helmet armor if present. He then slashes upwards, tossing the Dominus Knight into the air, blasts him full of bullet holes, links the holes together via slashing open gaping wounds, and slam-dunks the Dominus Knight into the ground. Literally. As in, the Dominus Knight is now partially embedded in the battlefield itself. Walker decides to take the moment to crush the Dominus Knight's knee with his bare fist, tear out a few tendons, and impale his ankle, before casually strolling back to the PZ side of the field.
Y: Thinking I can't tell the the difference between a potion and a poton... Isn't that kind of... offensive?
The same SJWs that attacked Nimbleguy let out a vicious war cry if about tolerance and proceed to tear Deadpool to pieces and throw every piece into a fire in an eerily ritualistic manner.
Y then offers The Captain his backup meteor staff.
After having moved the Sun of 500 000 km to the right Hezetor is now happy to see that at least his telekinetic ability has not been weakened.
The orb of pure energy is telekinetically keep at 50cm under the throne.
The two blocks of iron are shrunk to just 20Âł cm and starts to rotate around the orb.
Hezetor then descends from the approximately 8000m he was so that can receive his soon to come guest.
To begin I'll provide some general information about zergs:
As the starcraft wiki says well: "The Zerg Swarm is a terrifying and ruthless amalgamation of
biologically advanced, arthropodal aliens. Dedicated to the pursuit of
genetic perfection"
Zergs are guided by an hivemind, this supreme collective has changed through their history. (for now we can just ignore this I might summon the Overmind later)
They are capable of evolving acquiring genetic materials from others species.
No zerg can die of old age and all of them have a healing factor (regeneration).
Their alpha amino acids possess unique R groups that allow dead cell
matter to be combined with normal proteins to create new cells. Under
normal circumstances, zerg may regenerate indefinitely.
This is what I tough was relevant for the moment.
Let's give more informations about the Hatchery:
This is the base zerg structure, as all zergs unit/structures recovers hp over time.
The hatchery will produce larvas every turn. (larvas are the most basic zerg unit, they transform in workers or warriors)
And yes the hatchery products larvaes fast 1 every 15 seconds to be precise.
Will not get more than 3 larvas in a given moment by itself (so will auto produce larvas up to 3).
The hatchery can mutate into a Lair a stronger version that allows more upgrades for all zergs units.
Will expand the creep around itself (not much let's say a 15 m radius)
Now about the creep:
The zerg creep is technically a living organism that has the purpose of nourish zerg structures that are actually big organs that need proper food.
So every zerg structure needs to be over the creep, the removal will start to cause damage over time to the structure.
The creep allows all zergs units that are able to walk to move faster (In this game I suppose it is pretty pointless)
It is possible to remove it with explosives and fire, but his hight regenerative ability make the removal just a momentary solution.
and Larvae (larva):
Despite they relatively low hp they have an incredible "armor" making them incredibly hard to kill.
They are not capable of moving around a lot so will just stay next to the hatchery.
The destruction of the creep or of their hatchery does not mean their destruction and since not careful players usually forgot about them a few larvaes can restart a zerg force.
Under the orders of a Overlord (or others zerg commands unit) a larvae will enter a gestation period where will mutate in the desired zerg creature. (this takes more or less time but at least 1 turn I suppose [out of zerglings the weakest unit])
Aaaand Drones:
They have low hp and not so much armor as the larvaes.
These are the basics worker of the zerg swarm, capable of attaching with their weak claws.
Are capable of mutating in any zerg structure given time.
So Tazz zergs should be fast to produce but weak in terms of HP.
If the hatchery is working properly will start to produce 3 larvaes in 1 turn and will start to slowly extend the creep.
All the Protettoris will enter the defensive state (so they get more damage reduction) all but one that will attack a PZ unit so that I can see how much damage it does.
Y destroys the Essence of the Destroyed by dropping the Wikipedia page for Deconstruction onto it, before giving the injured Soldier a Potion of Instant Health.
The Meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything.
Join Date:
6/16/2013
Posts:
232
Member Details
I just sort of walk over to Uzi.
Then, I ask for a soft pretzel.
By the standards of Neo-Geraldian algebraic proofs, regardless of what Uzi does (seeing as this is a direct reaction to my actions, not her reactions) this means that either:
A.) Uzi now possesses a hot dog for a head.
B.) Uzi is incapable of licking her own toenails whilst juggling a frying pan greased in liquid flesh.
C.) Uzi is now a half-robotic potato capable of human speech.
This also means that:
If A is true, either:
D.) That hot dog is severed from Uzi's neck, and left in stagnant cart water for nine months until it is sold to a hungry biker on a trail somewhere in the state of Indiana, who promptly eats it, after applying pickle juice, of course, along with rancid mustard. This guy is a fan of sulfur and pickle juice, you see.
E.) The hot dog boils in the sun regardless of heat or presence of solar bodies, and is discarded, leaving Uzi headless.
F.) This hot dog specifically is a religious symbol to the people of the city of E'Varie Tluptos, who promptly descend from the heavens, and demand it back, resulting in a lengthy struggle wherein the hot dog is pried from Uzi's neck, and dragged away quietly.
If B is true, either:
G.) This show of dishonor is vastly offensive to one Howard Fitzgerald of the neighboring land of Nevarode, who immediately takes out his twenty frying pans coated in flesh, and begins juggling them whilst licking his toenails effortlessly, the damage to Uzi's self-esteem after being easily beaten at something like this dealing physical damage.
H.) A frying pan somewhere in the universe absorbs liquid flesh and radioactive material, and becomes the superhero Fleshpan, whose not-necessarily-phallic epithet terrifies every criminal out on the street, until they come to associate the sound of a cow licking its own eyeballs noisily with the destruction of all crime. Fleshpan flies to the server, and challenges Uzi to a watenhaser duel. Uzi, not knowing what a watenhaser is, instantly fails, and is beaten profusely by Fleshpan, who flies off into the distance, likely never to be seen again.
I.) Uzi, despite being unable to preform this particular set of actions, is set up by her greased-frypan-juggling-toenail-licker coach to go to the national finals. She surprisingly beats the first contestant to challenge her. This makes her rather overconfident, and she challenges the nearest person quite brazenly. This person turns out to be the reigning champion at the sport, Sir Robert Ivorywick, Jr. of Greater Bristol. Needless to say, the competition (which includes dueling with sharpened titanium matches whilst licking your own toenails and juggling frying pans greased in liquid flesh) is over quickly, in Ivorywick's favor.
If C is true, either:
J.) A group of famous scientists from the nation of Havania land on the server, and capture the talking potato with minimal effort, and store it in a museum, where it is to be displayed unto the end of time, left to wither away. Uzi breaks out, but the trauma is tangible.
K.) This talking potato is found on the streets by none other than Steven Spielberg, who was on the prowl for inspiration, as he had been selected to direct the next Indiana Jones movie in an alternate dimension where there were two movies in between The Last Crusade and Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, this being the second. This first was rather successful, and Spielberg has quite a high standard to hold his film to. As such, he decides to use the potato and its half-robotic qualities for several scenes. Long story short, it ended up getting shot a lot by Harrison Ford and guest star actors Ian McKellen and Ewan McGregor, who are in this film, for whatever reason. Spielberg and the rest of the film crew burn the potato in a campfire the day the movie is released. The movie makes millions, and is titled Indiana Jones and the Tuber Invincible on the day of release.
L.) The potato's half-robotic scent is picked up by a campire. Not a campfire, no. A campire. Campires are notoriously vicious vampire-campfire hybrids, obsessed with eating things live, and obsessed with robotics. The campire lord sinks his fangs into the potato's robotic half, and its density sort of... just decreases exponentially. The potato itself is then worshipped for several months by the campire and the rest of his campire coven, until it is eaten ceremonially on the eve of Yannameade. I disapprove, shaking my head. The entire campire coven suddenly ascends to the position of campire lord, after experiencing a sudden loss of up quarks in their bodies. They must all consume burnt firewood once a week, or else the local superstitious town will send an angry mob to slaughter them. They all eat firewood, and die of massive indigestion. The original campire lord regurgitates up the remnants of the potato, now a mass of fibers and starches, before curling up and dying.
If all OR none of the first three options were true, Uzi has become a waffle coated in vinegar, which is swiftly gobbled up into the snout of a hungry Snuffletrot, which are notorious for their waffle-stealing tendencies, and their vinegar addictions. The Snuffletrots scamper away.
If any of the above occurred (and at least one did, I assure you), then I get angry at Uzi for not giving me a soft pretzel (which she could never have given me). This means BOTH:
M.) Uzi is a walnut. Azathoth disapproves. Therefore, Uzi is now a walking, talking replica of herself made entirely of walnuts. Both Azathoth and I approve, and she falls apart. I approve with a thumbs up. She reforms, but all of her blood has been replaced with terrible soda.
N.) Uzi is suddenly assailed by a number of Ancient Havaldian (Havald borders Havania, famous for its football team, competitiveness with neighbors, and scientists, just saying) American football players. They demand she explain how exactly these people know what American football is, despite being from 1000 CE. She is unable to do so, because her brain is suddenly composed exclusively of spider eggs, which all hatch and devour her insides graphically, dealing no damage, but releasing large amounts of sleep toxins. The Ancient Havaldians play a game of football with her unconscious body, somehow managing to both throw and kick her. The second Ancient Havaldian team wins, with a score of 386.597, 41.6054 points greater than the first team's score, which was unbiased, as the referee flipped a seven sided coin beforehand. These numbers come to life and assault Uzi after jumping off of the scoreboard, and taking physical form. Uzi survives, but is smashed by the incarnation of logical football rules when she realizes that the two teams were completely arbitrary, and that I never specified anything about them specifically.
These both occur simultaneously, and the sheer improbability and impossibility of the situation causes Uzi to explode into raccoons wearing parachutes exclusively on their fifth arms whilst also singing the jolly tune of N'gha Ah America & Y-e.
NEW: Antique Sword && Note Block && Metronome (2/???)
NEW: Mind Honey Jar && Ritual Chalk (1/???)
Crystal looks around, searching for something to do, before he notices the Lemon-Lime Gatorade/Red Bull Colegmerate. He immediately jumps in surprise - he thought the Colegmerate died! - and blasts the Blob with a massive gush of crimson oblivion energy from the Wand of the Empty Set.
==Entities==
The Sketched Deathknight will target the Winged Animated Blob of Lemon-Lime Gatorade with a Black Bolt.
The Meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything.
Join Date:
2/7/2014
Posts:
72
Location:
The Mindscape
Minecraft:
Irecreeper
Member Details
=Turn One=
(28 / 50) A Deck of Cards
+1 to FBSN
+1 to Pricey
=Action=
I respawn, and face towards Weegee. I then decide to have a bit of fun with him, and make him play my Mario Maker level! I pull out a contract, and he signs it, agreeing to play! However, he falls for his own ploy; in nearly microscopic text, it says that for each time he dies, he loses 1 HP! He shrugs and says something about being too good at Mario to die, and goes to play my level. Said level is called "KAZIO DEATHTRAP". He gulps, and starts playing the level.
The first thing he notices is a simple jump over a pit. Knowing that it's called "deathtrap", he quickly bumps an invisible block and retreats back to safety. He then goes on the block, and clears the pit. He then is confronted by a whole gauntlet of Piranha Plants and Lakitus! He runs through the gauntlet, dodging fireballs and raining beasts. And then he's confronted with a two walls; perfect for wall-jumping! He then runs in to evade my gauntlet, but fails to notice the off-screen Thwomp. It promptly crushes him, causing his first death. On his second run, he evades the Thwomp, and enters a part where he must grab a Bom-omb, and with perfect timing, throw it into a tiny gap to hit a P-Switch while saws storm in from every direction! He nails the throw right away, and climbs the stairs now there from the P-Switch.
However, as he rushes up the stairs, Thwomps start raining from the skies! He dodges every single last one, and attempts to make a wide jump! However, he smashes his head into an invisible block, and falls into a cluster of saws and Bowsers. Needless to say, he dies. When he starts his next attempt, he flawlessly makes it to the end of the level! He falls down a spiked shaft laden with coins, and sees the flag!
...which just so happens to be blocked by a wall of spikes, with no way over. He stares at me, and has a realization; the whole level was a ploy! While he stands there and yells at me, he fails to dodge the rain of saws I had planted to kill idle players there. He then starts back at the start. At the spawn, he then bumps an invisible block to the side, revealing a vine. After scaling the vine, he heads through a door, and ends up appearing three feet from the flag. He then proceeds to win the level. His next course of action is to slap me halfway across the battlefield, and light my Wii U console on fire. However, the console explodes, causing him to take the damage that he'd take from dying in the level!
An anvil falls from the sky, landing on the Winged Animated Blob of Lemon-Lime Gatorade(etc.) Normally this wouldn’t hurt an amorphous blob of liquid, but it turns out the anvil is filled with thermite! It heats up to massive temperature, boiling the Blob away.
==Entities==
The Sketched Deathknight will target the Winged Animated Blob of Lemon-Lime Gatorade(etc.) with a Black Bolt.
The Outlaws: 30/30 ============================== (+1 from tc2142) The Winged: 27/30 ============================== (+2 from jondanger, +1 from tc2142 and MZ)
Scribe's Wands && Rorschach Drop || Blot of Ink = The Spillers (3/?)
The Scribe grins at FBSN. "There's a reason it's called Dimension 493."
"Let's see here. I have the Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squadron and its subsidiaries and my beck and call - and the Captain as well, if the bribery succeeds. Who else can I enlist..." The Scribe looks over his Journal. "Don't fail me now, book." He flips through its pages and then finds something that makes him stop - a series of pages called Residents of the Nether. "Hm. This holds promise."
The Scribe looks over the pages, examining the writing and images he put on them long ago. "Cults of the Pigmen? No, something tells me they'd end up becoming a neutral force. Brick Colossus? Perhaps, but I would have to uproot an entire Nether Fortress. I could just use the Rorschach, but I don't exactly know how it would react with the Nether's volatility... The Aberration? Hah. I'll save that for later use. What about The Limbless? A soulless monstrosity of quartz... Also interesting. Wait. Here. This could definitely work. But how to appease them?"
The section the Scribe is looking at is titled Cowboys From Hell. There's some writing to go along with it. A merciless band of outlaws that roam the Nether, looking for its treasures. They have a fearsome army of the Nether's dangerous inhabitants, riding on horses of bone, horses of rotting flesh, and cancerous ghasts of lost souls. When adventuring in the Nether, always have some sort of artifact on hand to either hand to them so they leave you alone, or to use against them and leave without a trace. But be warned - they never forget a target, and the next time you venture into the Nether, they'll be looking for you. The actual outlaws are mostly Wither Skeletons, with their leader being some sort of being of power back when he was truly alive and not undead - I haven't quite figured out what.
The Scribe shuts his Journal and pulls out a large amount of obsidian. "Yes, their help would do nicely. But I'll need more than something to bribe them with. I'll need something that can augment them. If I can give them any sort of edge, anything to extend their usefulness, then that will be worth it." He starts laying down obsidian, presumably to set up some kind of Nether Portal. But the base he's building soon extends far past the normal boundaries of one. His complete product is an absolutely gargantuan Nether Portal, one that could fit many mobs at once.
"They're quite the crowd, and this thing will need to accommodate all of them. The upside and downside to this will be that an exact duplicate of this Portal will be constructed in the Nether the moment I pass through. That's an upside because all of the Cowboys From Hell will fit. The downside is that a Portal of this magnitude will instantly tip anyone in the Nether paying attention to my location, so I'll have to be quick. Now, the artifact."
The Scribe pulls out a copper-colored chest from his coat and sets it down on the ground, rummaging through it. "What I have planned will be incredibly risky, like several of my previous endeavors. But I must succeed. If this Nether Star is misused in any capacity, it could mean the end of the Nether. And, given my research on what lies beneath that inferno, that's a bad thing. (And that's an understatement.)" The Scribe pulls out some flint and steel, lighting it on the base of the Nether Portal. A flame is lit, which races across the Nether Portal's frame of its own accord, surging across its rectangular structure. It turns the color of amethyst, and, in a blinding flash, surges across the empty space of the portal and creating the flaming liquid that acts as the gateway to the underworld.
Adjusting his goggles and putting the Nether Star in a black pouch, the Scribe walks through the Nether Portal. A few seconds after he does so, it shuts off, the flame dispersing.
On the other side, the Scribe has taken a step into hell. The Nether is as devilish as ever, its eternal flame and cave-like structure raging on with no immediately discernible source of power. The Scribe turns around, his gauntlets surging with unknown energy. He raises a fist at an obsidian block and destroys it, shutting off the Nether Portal on both ends. He then walks across the Nether, seemingly searching for the Cowboys From Hell.
Yet, despite the Nether's smaller size from the Overworld, it's still a very large place, and the Scribe searches for what seems like forever, time blurring across the nonexistent heavens of hell. And then, the Scribe catches glimpses of movement in the distance. He sees figures riding on horses, and ghasts appearing behind cliffs and walls. There's only one group of mobs that would travel like that - the Cowboys. But there's a catch - they're running to him.
After several seconds, the Cowboys close in on the Scribe, encircling him. An armada of skeletons and wither skeletons on top of skeleton and zombie horses have gathered around the Scribe, with some wither skeleton horses among the mix. There are several ghasts floating above the Scribe, their eyes half-closed and their mouths lit, ready to fire. Riding the tallest wither skeleton horse is a wither skeleton with a tattered brown hat and a brown coat. When he speaks, it sounds like a dull rumble, like if an earthquake could talk.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't Little Mr. Anonymous. What identity are you under now, huh? You still call yourself the Scribe?" The Scribe grimaces, this sentence answering the skeleton's question for him. But since he doesn't see what I type, the Scribe talks as well. "...Yes. Do you still call yourself the Reaper? Or should I call you by your actual name, Damian?" Damian gets an ill response from this. "That is the name of a dead man! One who was like a broken compass! Directionless, wayward! The Reaper... Now that's a cool name!"
The Scribe crosses his arms. "One: do you have any idea at all how cliche the Reaper sounds? I wouldn't be suprised if there were twenty alive people with that title. I'd even bet that your fellow outlaws make fun of you behind your back for it." Damian looks around wildly. The other Cowboys have guilty expressions. Two: if you're saying that you were directionless, then I think you need to get educated on past and present tense. If you ask me, nothing's changed except the fact that now you're a black monstrosity from the--" "This place is not Hell! This is a better home than I ever had aboveground, and you know it! Now don't talk smack about my name! It's MINE, not yours!" The Scribe's expression darkens. "Likewise," he mutters.
The circle of cowboys closes in. "Now what are you doing here, anyway? That was a pretty big portal you came in through. What are you planning on leaving with? Or did you just decide to waste a cavernful of obsidian for fun? That's a valuable resource, you know." "I was planning on leaving with your team. As allies." Damian cackles, a horrible scraping sound. "Allies? Allies? You've broken the law too many times to be allies, Scribe! Every time we've come across you, you've had to pay for it. Sometimes you've escaped right away. Sometimes you haven't. This time, we're playing for keeps!"
The Cowboys From Hell rush at the Scribe, but he yells, "WAIT!" Everything stops as the Scribe holds up the Nether Star, its light bouncing across the surfaces of the Nether. Damian regards it with utter awe. "You... You actually found one? You found me one?" The Scribe's expression is grim. "Yes. Take it and use it as you will. I only ask that you aid me on the surface." Damian scowls. "I swore never to return there... unless I found this. Heheheh... Come, Scribe. Follow us. You're going to see the results of what you've just done in person."
The Scribe and the Cowboys From Hell begin to trek to a new location, speeding along the Nether's terrain, scaling cliffs, heading through caves, bounding over lava lakes. The Scribe breaks the silence - or rather, the distorted Wild West music playing from nothingness. "So you're willing to put all of our past conflicts aside because I gave you that Nether Star? Doesn't that seem... unlike you? You're one to hold a grudge."
Damian looks back at the Scribe. "How much do you know about us?" "All that I've discovered from our prior encounters. You're a merry band of misfits who are somehow outlaws by nature, cowboys by name, and sheriffs by pretense,--" "Don't go down that road." "--and are looking to plunder the Nether's secrets. You have insiders in locations throughout the Nether, you're constantly finding more loot, you're very feared, those who you capture are sent to your secret base known as The Bar, those who resist capture are sent to your torture chamber known as The Ale, your loot is stored in a vault known as The Stash, and there's one thing that you want above all else. If I had to guess, I'd say it's..."
Damian sighs. "The Nether Star, yep. What you don't know about us is plenty, by the way. Normally I wouldn't be telling you this, but we're in it for the long haul now. So listen up, and feel free to write this down in that nerdy book of yours." The Scribe instantly pulls out his Journal and flips to an empty page, writing in it.
"This team was founded when I died all those years ago and I ended up being a permanent resident of this place. I wanted all the power and treasure this place had to offer now that I was unliving here. Yet there was one thing I wanted above all else - the heart of the Nether's broken god, the Wither. To possess its Nether Star would be to gain ultimate power. From its light, you could craft beacons that amplified your physical power. From its crystal, you could craft magical weapons unrivaled in scope.
"But if you were to gain the whole Nether Star and seek out the corpse of the true and ancient Wither, the one buried beneath the Nether in frozen chains... If you were to fuse with that ancient power, and use the Nether Star to become one with one of the Nether's hidden powers... You would become a god. A god of hell. I could even have enough power to usurp that maniac that's ruling over this place." "A maniac?" "Yeah, that's his name. Maniac. A fitting name for the ruler of this place, I guess. Now, anyway. That's why I made this team. To get that Star, reawaken the Wither, and fuse with it.
"There was a catch, though. It turned out only the true and mighty Player could awaken the Wither and summon it in order to destroy it and gain its Star. So I just went around getting whatever other secondary loot I could find, until the unthinkable happens. You're not gonna believe this. Just, just guess what happened. The Player enters the Nether! What was his name... Oh, right! Yeah. It was Steve. He looked just like the Lord, it was disturbing.
"Using him, I got that Star. I awakened the Wither, and I fused with it. Oh yeah. I've done this all before. But I guess he thought I wasn't to be trusted with all that power, so he destroyed me and resealed the Wither and its Star in the process. I wonder why he felt the need to do that? I told him about his heritage, and that was that. My bones were scattered across the Nether's lava until it reformed me. Bada-bing, bada-boom. Like clockwork." The Scribe finishes writing everything down and looks up.
"You... You've been in contact with the Player?" "That's what I said, genius. Back when he was on his mighty and heroic Quest. God, that word makes me want to spit now. "Quest". I hate it so much. You know how he grew up and became the end result of the Player Cycle, right? He even ended up fighting in that Godmodding War... It's a wonder that he hasn't been reincarnated yet, actually." The Scribe stops completely. "...How do you know so much about the nature of Players?" Damian chuckles. "Hey, you learn a lot when you're in this place. 'It's where dreams come to die, it's where the spawn of dragons lie, it's where broken anachronism thrives - the Nether! You'll have a hell of a time!' Hahaha... That was back when we were doing an ad campaign for this place. We were trying to monetize hell... Heh. Still laugh from it. You can imagine how it all went over, of course. It was only rivaled by that time when a government tried to drill into here..."
The Cowboys stop their travels at the entrance of a dark and ancient cave. The lava around them has gradually turned from red to yellow to white, and now to a radiant blue. "This is it. Wither's Mouth."
The cave is dark and made from a dull grey stone unlike anything the Scribe has ever seen. He takes a sample from it and stores it away. "Don't think I didn't see that," Damian growls. "Don't mess with anything here. This place is sacred to everyone in the Nether." The Scribe rolls his eyes from behind his goggles. "Right. 'Don't mess with anything.' Says the guy who's about to fuse with a three-headed skeletal monstrosity." "Let me be more specific. You shouldn't mess with anything here."
Soon, the path is blocked by a large stone door with a swirling insignia carved into it. Damian's left hand turns into a shield constructed from black bone, and it fits perfectly with the carving. Blue torches light up everywhere, and the door swings open. "Here we are. This is the Wither's resting place." The Scribe takes in the array of power with awe, furiously writing things down. "The Wither was sealed here long ago after it was deemed to dangerous to coexist with the chaotic order of the Nether. Now we worship it and pray that, when it stirs, it is merciful. Tch. Heheheh. Heheheheh..." The Scribe looks up. "What?" "Oh, it's funny. It's funny that these people see this thing as a god. And now that I'm becoming the Wither..."
Damian's eyes light with blue fire. "That means I'm becoming a god, too. I know I've said that, and I know I've done it. But the magnitude of all this has really hit me now. This is... intense. Now, Scribe. Give me the Star." The Scribe hesitantly looks at the Nether Star in his fist. Grinning, he hands it to Damian, who speaks for the last time. "You're welcome."
Damian steps forward, looking at the Wither. It is trapped in the walls of the chamber they're in, the place holding it back as a frozen prison. Indeed, this looks like - somehow - a respite of cold amidst the unbearable heat of the Nether. The Wither's form is undisturbed and unmoving. Its skeletal form is intact, and an "x" cut into the center of it is glowing with a faint fire. As Damian steps closer, that fire glows more and more, until it burns brightly as Damian steps right next to the Wither.
Its three heads quiver and shake, their eyes opening for the first time in years. Lightning and fire emanate from them, and the chamber takes a menacing red hue, the torches around everyone turning from purple to a deep crimson not normally made by any fire. Damian cackles and shoves the Nether Star into the Wither's chest, creating a massive light show and echoing with the sounds of three tormented shrieks.
Minutes have passed since the Scribe's pass through the Nether Portal. Without warning, it lights once again, purple flames flickering around it. And without warning, a lumbering beast passes through that instantly makes an ominous wind whistle across the entire battlefield and turns the sky the color of dried blood. The sun's color turns a pale white, the grass and trees around wither away, and the clouds turn jet-black.
The beast itself is even worse. It looks like a massive wither skeleton-esque monstrosity with an actual body (not just a skeleton), but one made from the withering black bone of actual wither skeletons. Its chest is inscribed with horrifying patterns, and there is an "x" in the middle of it - one that contains a glowing Nether Star. Its arms are bulging with muscles, its legs have spikes with blue energy coming from them, and its head is still that of a skeleton - one with flaming blue eyes and a flaming blue mouth. The beast's back is riddled by jagged spikes that are made from bone but slowly gradient up to a radiant blue color with electricity twirling around them, and two massive spikes jut out from the thing's collarbone that ebb with dark energy. The worst thing about the beast is the fact that it doesn't have one head. Three additional heads protrude from its back on heavily fortified necks, and all of them are flaming with blue energy.
The Scribe grins like a madman. "Well then! I'd say that went quite well! The rest of the Cowboys From Hell had to be cannibalized for this to work, but I was spared. Now let's unleash this monstrosity on the rest of the world. I'll call you... Hm, no. You're sentient, you should get the freedom of choice. So what's your name?"
The beast pauses for several seconds, as if it's having a massive internal conflict. But then, it tenses and roars, uttering one word - a name.
CERBERUS.
Cerberus: [AZ] HP: This will be a bit complicated, more on that in a bit.
This thing is a freak of nature, a horrific fusion of a seemingly normal Wither Skeleton with the Wither itself. It's very powerful, and since it has four heads, it can only be killed when all four of them are defeated. Each head has its own HP bar, just like other multi-segment entities. Cerberus has several powerful attacks at its disposal, some of which are more effective the more heads there are. Unlike Octothorpe, Cerberus will remain loyal to the Scribe no matter what, since the Wither (and by extension, Cerberus) will relish the chance to fight UserZero, a being of power.
ATTACKS:
Ejection: The heads of Cerberus fire Wither Skulls at an enemy which explode at them, dealing moderate damage. Each live head fires a Skull, which means that if all heads are alive, the attack deals x4 damage than if only one head is.
Eruption: The heads of Cerberus create massive columns of flame that deal moderate damage and deal more damage depending on how many Heads there are. In addition, if an enemy attacks Cerberus that turn, there is a 75% chance they will be Burned for 2 turns.
Disruption: The Nether Star in Cerberus' chest creates a powerful shockwave of energy that deals high damage to an enemy and gives a 33% chance to Confuse said enemy for 2 turns. Can attack multiple enemies at once, but will deal less damage and will have the same chance for Confusion.
Conjunction: The spikes on Cerberus' collarbone will create twin jets of blue electricity that will hit an entity each for moderate damage. Has a 25% chance to hit twice, and gives a 66% chance to Paralyze the enemies for 1 turn.
Ignition: The heads of Cerberus fire at the ground and create columns of flame that lift Cerberus upwards, dealing damage to an enemy below and letting Cerberus attack another enemy from above for high damage. Since Cerberus is airbone and protected by flame, if an enemy attacks him that turn, there is a 66% chance they will miss.
Condition: The Nether Star in Cerberus' chest uses its power to help 2 random allies, giving them one of several helpful status effects for three turns. Strength, which will give minicrits: Speed, which will give a chance to dodge attacks, Regen, which will give a regen to HP, or Resistance, which will give increased defense. This attack can be used in addition to any other attack.
SPECIAL ATTACKS:
Eviction: The heads of Cerberus detach from its back and shift into a massive flaming sword that carves through an enemy, dealing high damage. The more heads that are active, the more damage the attack will deal. Takes three turns to charge.
Distinction: The heads of Cerberus close their eyes and the ground around Cerberus rumbles, lifting from the earth. From beneath, a massive plume of fire spews forth that washes over everything, cleansing an enemy in its power. The attack is unique in that the fire gets more powerful and deals more damage if less heads are alive. Takes four turns to charge.
PASSIVES:
Revive Kills Zombie: Allies should hurt Cerberus if they want to heal it.
Withering Away: Every attack Cerberus makes has a 20% chance to, no matter what, inflict the Wither status effect on an enemy, which (in case you don't remember) deals damage over time and prevents them from healing. This chance goes up as Cerberus' heads are destroyed, going up 20% with each destroyed head.
Desperation: When only one head is alive, Cerberus will gain a 33% chance to minicrit no matter what, and Condition will be able to effect three allies at once.
I start a new charge. To start, Cerberus uses Eruption on an enemy and Condition on two allies.
The Relative: 1/50 ================================================== [DATA ENCRYPTED]
17/20 17/20
Snuggie && Porcupine = Most Ridiculous Defense (A Ridiculous Offense) 1/?
I impale the ground beneath me with my Magma Pig Spear. The pig mouth flies open and starts exerting its control over magma. As the head vacuums in lava, the glorious sounds of oinking accompanies the attack. The Pigman army is coming in defence of their new lord, the Crispy Bacon King (referring to the mounted pig head).
22/25 (Mobile Base)
22/25 (Project "Revelation")
Inventory:
Data Crystal (Level 1)
Chaos Control "Sword" (Level 5)
Holocrom Datea Storige (Level 0)
Shockjewel Armor (Level 3)
Firebrand (Level 4: 5/5) Finished!
Redstone Torch II Redstone II Iron Sword = Charged Blade 1/???
Areos, Swordsman 1/5 (/null Neo died so suddenly? Daww, crap.)
Neo Ultima 6/15
Dominus Knight attempts to scratch the body of the Soul of the Core with his sword.
I attempt to drink the Lemon-Lime Gatorade of Animated Blobbiness, making an annoying slurping sound in hopes of also hurting Uzi!
Calzerb attacks the Head of the Soul Thingy with his staff!
I just took the Minecraft Noob test! Check out what I scored. Think you can beat me?!
To take the test, check out
http://minecraftnoobtest.com/test.php
War, war never changes.
The Beginning.
http://technoterra.myminicity.com
Alchemies
Minecraft Disguise Kit && Player Focus = Minecraft Disguise Kit 2.0 (2/4)
Dark Times > Fine = The Nightwatch (3/4)
Charges
Project M06-Internationalization (10/50)
Project M05-NetHack.exe (26/40) (+2 from tc2142, +2 from Twin)
+2 to Serpent
Action
I pull out an octagonal basalt wand, forty-three centimeters in length. Inscribed on its length in the Cobalt Shade Corporation Squarecode is ⊟▣◫ ▧▣⊠⊡⊞◪ ◨◨▧ ▧⊠◫⊠⊠, which translates to "Cobalt Shade Corporation Wand of Shielding". I zap it at the Soul of the Core and it immediately gains three shields around it which will each take one attack from an entity.
I'm making an assumption
This server has every mod in existence, seeing as so many people are just travelling in time willy-nilly, the godmodders are assumed to have that power too, and have installed mods from 2015, including tinker's construct for 1.7.10 and extra utilities for 1.7.10 (latest version as of now ie 2015).
Alchemies
The Cursed Blade Kikoku (+7 physical dmg, +2 divine dmg, +4 armor piercing) || The Bane of Pigs(21,474,836 physical dmg) = The Bane of Godmodders(1/6)
The Bane of Godmodders is a weapon that (hopefully) will even be able to do lots of damage to the Godmodder (notice the 'G').
I'm obviously on Richard's team.
+1 charge to anyone who wants it.
also, would you MSPA readers click on the like button for me? I'd like to know how many of you there are, playing this 1337 game.
I examine Bestal's "Spatial Rending and Other Useful Space Magic Techniques", reading through the tome for anything of interest.
PesterlogNow, there's some other megalithic beast we get to killmurder over a short period of time, this time neutral. Excellent.
50/50 Expended.
I look at the Soul of the Core, attempting to decide what I might do to it with my temporary exponential increase in power. However, I am interrupted by a ringing noise coming from my computer. I sigh, clicking the Trollian tab.
— atrophicTachyon [AT] began trolling terminalAutocrat [TA] at 00:27 --
.
AT: GIVEN YOUR CURRENT POSITION DIRECTLY BEFORE A SOMEWHAT HELLISH BEING WITH VAST COMMAND OVER THE GRAVITATIONAL FORCE (IF MY KNOWLEDGE SERVES ME CORRECTLY), I WOULD PRESUME YOU NEED SOME FORM OF AID.
TA: i suppose
TA: im pretty okay by myself but if you want to do something go ahead
TA: i dont really care
TA: at all
AT: SIMPLY SCATHING.
AT: REGARDLESS, I HAVE CHOSEN TO INFORM YOU OF THE DISPATCH OF FLEET NINE HUNDRED FORTY-SIX TO THE RED SUN.
TA: wait
TA: youre actually going through with that
TA: i thought it was supposed to be too dangerous
AT: THE PROJECT IN QUESTION WAS NEVER CONSIDERED IN ANY MANNER WHATSOEVER FOR CANCELLATION. IT IS RATHER FOOLISH OF YOU TO SUGGEST OTHERWISE.
TA: why are you telling me this
AT: YOU COULD USE THE BYPRODUCT, CORRECT?
TA: rhetorical question
AT: IT WAS NOT AN INQUIRY. IT WAS A FACT, AND THEN A QUESTION MARK.
AT: 946 SHOULD BE IN THE ADEQUATE ORBITAL POSITION WITHIN THE HOUR. USE EVERYTHING OFFERED TO YOU WISELY.
TA: thats kind of pointless seeing as you could literally just make me use it how you wanted
AT: PERCHANCE. IT WOULD BE MORE INTERESTING TO SAVE YOUR USE AS A CONDUIT FOR SOME TIME LATER IN THE PROCESS, HOWEVER.
TA: oh?
AT: YES. I KNOW HOW MUCH YOU DETEST THE OCCURRENCE, AND IT WOULD BE MORE ENJOYABLE TO PREPARE TO FULLY ABSORB YOUR ABSOLUTE DISCOMFORT AND TERROR.
TA: shut up
AT: YOUR ASININE REMARKS ONLY STRENGTHEN THE POSSIBILITY THAT MY PREDICTION IS CORRECT.
TA: one hour right
AT: ARE YOU INCAPABLE OF LOOKING SEVERAL LINES IN AN UPWARD DIRECTION?
TA: yes i might die if i try
AT: YOU ARE FORTUNATE THIS IS NOT ACTUALLY THE CASE. SUCH A DISABILITY IS CERTAINLY CAUSE FOR EXECUTION.
TA: yeah ive read the law books i get it
TA: bye
.
- terminalAutocrat [TA] ceased trolling atrophicTachyon [AT] at 00:39 --
I sigh. Time to wait a little, I suppose.
~
Elsewhere in reality, we examine a large red sphere floating in the middle of an eternal void. Whilst this object should not technically exist at this point chronologically, it does, due primarily to the way space and time, amongst other aspects, function in this particular area of The Void.
This sphere's mass is equivalent to that of around two universes, give or take, and it is indeed the Red Sun. It is not as if there was any confusion on the matter. Whilst others of greater authorial skill might attempt to be the star itself, I will not. In fact, we shall just wait here, watching. Minutes pass by uneventfully, and nothing seems to occur, especially not whatever is intended to occur here.
But it will, soon.
Suddenly, the fabric of reality in a perfectly circular ring around the Sun begins to fold and warp, looking quite worse for wear, as if someone—or something—were attempting to force its way through the very fabric of reality. Sparks of mauve energy begin to leap off of this folds in spacetime, and some sort of wrenching force blasts anything near the gigantic ball of plasma away from it at speeds nigh-unfathomable. Mere moments afterward, the ring of space around the Sun erupts into a mauve inferno, pure, unadulterated vis pouring out of the perfectly symmetrical tear into Nihil Parva. Shapes begin to emerge from the singular monolithic rift, auric vis pounding against what appear to be wards intensely enough to see without need for Goggles of Revealing.
The obscured forms all drift out of the rift, before the thing closes with what would have been an audible boom, had there been any matter to project sound through. In the flash emitted by the closing of the rift, it becomes painfully evident that every single one of these shapes is a massive Grayholdian starship, some emblazoned with a faded Amethyst Mark, others with a far newer, more abstract gray symbol. Every single ship should be capable enough to fly straight into the Red Sun unharmed, seeing as they are designed to function perfectly in a plane wherein literally unlimited amounts of pure energy annihilate any physical matter within their domain, whilst also seeping into the world through small puncture nodes. The largest flagship's central command tower blinks with a deep cobalt light before reverting to the standard white, and all of the other ships seem to align in formation with it, all flying on a singular circuitous path in the massive star's orbit, searching for something.
This continues for several hours, the ships all carefully scanning the surface of the Red Sun. This is ordinarily a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, after all. How many other chances are you going to get to study such a thing? Suddenly, the main flagship begins to descend, the other ships swiftly following suit, emitting plumes of multicolored energy from their wards as the heat of the star fails to damage the fleet in any manner whatsoever. The main flagship sinks further, dangerously close to the surface of the Sun. Mere kilometers above the surface, the thing stops, levitating in orbit, coated in an aura of pure psionic energy powered by the… engine cores. Let's call them that. The other ships all surround the flagship, forming some sort of bizarre circular shape, an imperceptible blot on the Sun's absolutely gargantuan size.
Within the flagship, multiple things are occurring. The hissing of essentia tubes is painfully evident to all within. However, that is not of import at the present. What is, however, is what has been deemed the Portal Room, which is strangely bereft of any portals in any fashion whatsoever at the current moment. The other ships in the fleet begin to all dock with this monolithic flagship, golems rushing about the metallic prisons frantically, but in an orderly fashion. One might call it organized chaos. Anyhow, the portal room contains nothing more but an energized aura node place within both a Stabilizer and Transfuser. Upon command, a psionic is brought into the room, holding a curiously crafted Balanced Shard in gloved hands. They march over to the node, peering at it under large goggles, before carefully sliding the shard into the mass of energy, and standing back.
The node begins to pulsate and warp the instant the crystal is inserted, growing larger and larger. Within moments, it is easily a fifth of the room's size. The psionic takes several more steps back, before shrugging and exiting the room. The node pulsates and vibrates, growing steadily larger, before an ear-shredding blast can be heard from anywhere across the ship. If one were to examine the node once more, they would find that it served as a veritable gateway to Grayhold's current position in Nihil Parva, forging a link. Moments after this occurs, a number of smaller ships dive off of the flagship, and straight onto the surface of the Red Sun, landing without any difficulty with precise magnetic locks and arcane propulsion. These ships instantaneously start blinking with a dark maroon light as the main function of the operation at hand occurs. Extremely small amounts of plasma are sapped from the star, and precisely contained in tubes of heavily warded void glass, and loaded into each ship's storage bay with the utmost care, the bottom of the ships temperature bypassing the wards to a minuscule extent. Still, this means we are on a timer here.
As swiftly and cautiously as possible, substance is drawn from the massive star, and placed into the storage of each of the ships. This process continues for some time, until the storage bays of each of the ships are full. Then, they all promptly detach themselves from the two-universe-large star, and fly back to the fleet, cooling somewhat.
The ships all dock successfully, and the airlocks open, hundreds of golems marching out of the bays carrying tubes of contained plasma, all heading toward the portal room. The golems file through the thing the instant they reach the room, entering Grayhold Citadel, which is currently in a much more tactically sound position.
The golems are met by a large amount of living automatons emitting slight necromantic energies, and place each of the tubes into racks carefully, before heading back through the portal. The moment a rack is filled, a necromantic automaton grabs it, and marches off toward what was the Grand Library last time any of you saw the place. They pass through long, utterly pitch-black hallways, up and down numerous staircases, and past a number of odd doors and entryways into other projects in the fortress on their way to the Grand Library. The second they enter the antechamber directly before the Grand Library, they move over to the side, and begin to slide the tubes into esoteric sockets, which instantly drain the plasma within, sending it to fuel something or other. Quite anticlimactic. Fleet 946 remains floating above the Red Sun, stationed there as the newly-formed Grayholdian outpost above one of the most powerful sources of pure energy in reality.
~
I stand around, waiting, for several hours, mildly irritated, and somewhat more disappointed. At around hour three, I just take my hands off of my keyboard, and grab some book or other, beginning to read. I am drawn from my book around ten minutes later when a blinking notification appears upon my screen. I set the book aside, and click the 'x' on the notification moments after reading it, taking control of my avatar once more.
I leap into the air, pulsating with teal light as I watch the Soul of the Core, detaching myself from the force of gravity completely. My vision begins to grow red at the edges. I fly some distance away from the Soul, still watching intently. Let's see if they carried through.
My vision flashes with red light sporadically, my aura shifting to pure red several times, before returning to the initial teal. I feel a twitching sensation in the back of my eyes. Oh, wait. That means that—yes, that's just occurred. Where ordinarily gray energy would burst forth from my two major facial orifices, the eye color of my avatar shifts from its standard teal to a deep gray suggesting occult and twisted things, my skin paling somewhat, though not entirely, before my irises shift to solid red. My aura is fully crimson as well, at this point.
I examine the Soul of the Core carefully, deciding what to do as arcane and temporal potency brought to life rage within me. A spinning pure scarlet wheel appears behind me, flickering for several seconds before transforming into the face of a clock, the hands ticking forward slowly. The hands of the clock abruptly glow with a gray aura, and begin spinning wildly, bolts of Red Sun energy sparking off of both my form and the face of the holographic clock.
I point a finger at one of the Soul's heads, and snap. Everything goes scarlet for a brief moment, until I wave my hand somewhat. Meanwhile, the Soul of the Core is undergoing massive damage transcending gravity to two of its heads. Bolts and gossamer-fine strings of red energy alike are slamming into the heads, pounding against them with the unadulterated fury of the Red Sun, annihilating magma effortlessly. However, the damage the heads are taking is in no way proportional to the amount of energy being released. This is because there are currently bolts of energy I sent into the past to bombard the Soul's heads from slightly earlier parts on the timeline. The temporal energies along with the power of the nigh-limitless crimson star eradicate the heads, time magics accelerating the magma upon them to future and past points on its timeline, some of it merely disappearing, other bits transforming into various types of igneous rock that crumbles away, annihilated by the pure force of accelerating time itself.
The sorceries at work do not even bother to deal with Traho, or anything below the heads. If we take care of these, there is nothing it can do but die. Scarlet fire races across the past and future, barely scratching the present, whilst thousands of stars worth of energy are just unloaded into the Soul of the Core's heads, with the intent to destroy and leave naught behind. Eldritch forces take hold of the situation somewhat, locking the heads in place to prevent causing paradoxes by rendering future blasts of energy unable to strike the Soul. Essentially, its either the Soul just submits, and takes an ungodly amount of energy directly to its three heads from the future, or attempts, and quite literally certainly fails, to move and cause a paradox that would almost certainly annihilate it.
The scarlet wheel containing the clock slowly vanishes, and I zoom around the now-immobile Soul as its heads begin to take the very beginning of the blasts from the future, my aura tearing red miles into the deep blue sky. I wave my hand, and one of the Soul's heads rapidly begins to convert between past and future states, showing varying amounts of damage, and occasionally just transforming into large patches of igneous rock, which disintegrates nigh-instantaneously. Hah. Excellent.
I observe the situation befalling the Soul with mild interest as hundreds of inescapable stars worth of energy and time smash into the thing's heads, devoid of any influence from gravity until it is spent, wherein gravitational influence is useless. I speak, my voice light with hints of mild to low amusement.
TA: Shaggwgah'n, ye mnahn'fm'latgh ftaghu. Ya gotha ooboshu phlegethoth. Shogg r'luh.
TA: It's kind of hilarious how this ended up turning out, actually.
I promptly point a finger gun at one of the Soul's heads. This would not ordinarily be very threatening at all, if not for the fact that vast amounts of crimson energy were racing down my fingertips, and energizing an already excessively powerful aura charged with the very essence of the Red Sun. I watch, suddenly silent. The very last of the future-bombardment is occurring. After that finishes up, the thing will be able to move its heads without creating a paradox, so I'll have to be swift.
The very last of the bolts of time-altered blasts straight from a vast crimson star rage against the Soul's heads, and it is able to move once more. I watch and wait, crimson energy rolling off of my form, and thick smoke off of the Soul's. I stare for several more instants, before pulling the metaphorical trigger to the finger gun, pressing my thumb down.
An absolutely cyclopean beam of pure scarlet radiating with the essence of time and space erupts from my index finger at speeds slightly exceeding that of light, striking one of the Soul's heads nigh-instantaneously, seeing as the thing itself is unable to be affected by gravity, held on course by the power Tazz himself utilizes, and will be utilizing whilst reading this.
The head in question is immediately obscured from the view of anyone with sight in any way whatsoever, searing red miles into their retinas with light alone. The blast's energy is infused ridiculously thoroughly with the essence of time, to the extent that the blast actually damages the head in the past, without the need to travel back. I close my eyes as the last vestiges of pseudo-unlimited energy pour from my fingertip, slamming into a singular head with power enough to annihilate it completely and utterly, though I doubt this will occur—or at least based on this section of the attack alone.
Shockwaves of arcane power bent to my will rage across the Battlefield, inspiring strange visions in the minds of the intellectuals amongst us, and formless power in the minds of the others. This does not affect any godmodders or entities that are not the Soul of the Core, sadly. I stare down a remaining head on the Soul, my eyes burning like quasars with the blazing light of the eternal Red Sun, along with hints of elder knowledge and arcane thought. My aura flickers several times, before I streak toward the ground, forming a small crater upon impact, red energy streaming behind me. The aura fades away slowly into teal, my eyes doing the same just as my skin regains whatever color it lost. I blink several times, and examine whatever carnage I made. Splendiferous.
(Yes, that was all part of the 50 post charge there.)
Spatial Energies && Blank Spell Tome = Bestal's "Spatial Rending and Other Useful Space Magic Techniques" (6/6!)
NEW: Antique Sword && Note Block && Metronome (1/???)
(+2 to Generic)
(Spatial) Maelstrom 21/30 (+2 from Crystal) //////////////////////////////.
(Scarlet) Sunslammer: 50/50! (+2 from Crystal) ///////////////////////////////////////////////////.
Walker: Level 1, 19000 damage
UNDER HEAVEN DESTRUCTION: 35/50 (+2 from Fseftr, +2 from UserZero)
Best Pun Ever: 8/50
+2 to Fseftr
Handgun && Phantom Essence -> Phantom Gun (3/3)
Aperture Science Mashy Spike Plate && Explosive Reactive Armor || Slab of Metal && Large Wooden Shield -> Blastspike Exoskeleton (3/5)
Walker stares at the Soul of the Core for a few seconds, before deciding that it's really not worth the risk of going after. Besides, why take that thing down when it'd be so much more fun to, say, torture the hell out of the Dominus Knight, who really doesn't look all that well protected... So of course, Walker charges right up to the Dominus Knight, pulls out the I Don't Even Know Yet, and runs him through with it, spins around, slashes off his armor, then pulls out the recently-acquired Phantom Gun and pistol whips the Dominus Knight right in the face, crushing helmet armor if present. He then slashes upwards, tossing the Dominus Knight into the air, blasts him full of bullet holes, links the holes together via slashing open gaping wounds, and slam-dunks the Dominus Knight into the ground. Literally. As in, the Dominus Knight is now partially embedded in the battlefield itself. Walker decides to take the moment to crush the Dominus Knight's knee with his bare fist, tear out a few tendons, and impale his ankle, before casually strolling back to the PZ side of the field.
GODDAMN IT
STUPID GENDERFLIP VIRUS
((I fell behind again ,I'm sorry I can't post like I used to but I'm somewhat busier over here than I expected to be.))
Zweihander && Grimore for the Summoning of Fantastic Beasts = Sword of Beast Summoning (Level 4: 5/5)
I pelt the Winged Animated Gatorade/Red Bull Conglomerate with sponges.
Entities:
Stray Phoenix: Healing Balloon-omancy Eggs
Inventory:
Grimoire for the Summoning of Fantastic Beasts [Level 3]
Winged Hunter Cosplay [Level 1]
Heart Gauge [0 Collected]
Alchemy:
No ongoing projects...
Charges:
Corridor of Darkness: 14/25 (+3 from Tazz, due to derp.)
Astral Cafe: 3/15
Boosts:
+1 for Twin
+1 for Talist
People say "There is a city there, and it will stay there until time stops" hearts filled with bleak hope that it be so...
And indeed, it may be, as even the void has not moved it from its rightful place...
Casting their gaze inwards The Tearful Seeker considers their purpose in the coming events...
Tonight, he sets a stage, and come curtain's raise, A Storm Lord join the hunt.
Dragons, please click~
Post II
Y walks up to Deadpool
Y: It's because I'm missing an i, isn't it?
Y: Thinking I can't tell the the difference between a potion and a poton... Isn't that kind of... offensive?
The same SJWs that attacked Nimbleguy let out a vicious war cry if about tolerance and proceed to tear Deadpool to pieces and throw every piece into a fire in an eerily ritualistic manner.
Y then offers The Captain his backup meteor staff.
Slumbersand 3/5
Possessed Hatchet && Thulecite Club && SCP-1008
Solar Monolith 7/15
SCP-882 7/25
00C: Could you please remove the -UPDATE IN PR0GRESS- when the update is finished?
22/50
14/20
Hey, Serpent! Please help the PZ side!
I attempt to bribe Serpent with hugs.
Check out my bad CTM map reviews here.
After having moved the Sun of 500 000 km to the right Hezetor is now happy to see that at least his telekinetic ability has not been weakened.
The orb of pure energy is telekinetically keep at 50cm under the throne.
The two blocks of iron are shrunk to just 20Âł cm and starts to rotate around the orb.
Hezetor then descends from the approximately 8000m he was so that can receive his soon to come guest.
To begin I'll provide some general information about zergs:
As the starcraft wiki says well: "The Zerg Swarm is a terrifying and ruthless amalgamation of
biologically advanced, arthropodal aliens. Dedicated to the pursuit of
genetic perfection"
Zergs are guided by an hivemind, this supreme collective has changed through their history. (for now we can just ignore this I might summon the Overmind later)
They are capable of evolving acquiring genetic materials from others species.
No zerg can die of old age and all of them have a healing factor (regeneration).
Their alpha amino acids possess unique R groups that allow dead cell
matter to be combined with normal proteins to create new cells. Under
normal circumstances, zerg may regenerate indefinitely.
This is what I tough was relevant for the moment.
Let's give more informations about the Hatchery:
This is the base zerg structure, as all zergs unit/structures recovers hp over time.
The hatchery will produce larvas every turn. (larvas are the most basic zerg unit, they transform in workers or warriors)
And yes the hatchery products larvaes fast 1 every 15 seconds to be precise.
Will not get more than 3 larvas in a given moment by itself (so will auto produce larvas up to 3).
The hatchery can mutate into a Lair a stronger version that allows more upgrades for all zergs units.
Will expand the creep around itself (not much let's say a 15 m radius)
Now about the creep:
The zerg creep is technically a living organism that has the purpose of nourish zerg structures that are actually big organs that need proper food.
So every zerg structure needs to be over the creep, the removal will start to cause damage over time to the structure.
The creep allows all zergs units that are able to walk to move faster (In this game I suppose it is pretty pointless)
It is possible to remove it with explosives and fire, but his hight regenerative ability make the removal just a momentary solution.
and Larvae (larva):
Despite they relatively low hp they have an incredible "armor" making them incredibly hard to kill.
They are not capable of moving around a lot so will just stay next to the hatchery.
The destruction of the creep or of their hatchery does not mean their destruction and since not careful players usually forgot about them a few larvaes can restart a zerg force.
Under the orders of a Overlord (or others zerg commands unit) a larvae will enter a gestation period where will mutate in the desired zerg creature. (this takes more or less time but at least 1 turn I suppose [out of zerglings the weakest unit])
Aaaand Drones:
They have low hp and not so much armor as the larvaes.
These are the basics worker of the zerg swarm, capable of attaching with their weak claws.
Are capable of mutating in any zerg structure given time.
So Tazz zergs should be fast to produce but weak in terms of HP.
If the hatchery is working properly will start to produce 3 larvaes in 1 turn and will start to slowly extend the creep.
All the Protettoris will enter the defensive state (so they get more damage reduction) all but one that will attack a PZ unit so that I can see how much damage it does.
Things it will try to attack:
Hoenn Starters
Air Attack Train
Winged Animated Blob ecc ecc ecc.
Charges
Inter Multiversal Team of Engineers 19/20
Factory 2/10
Module || (electromagnetic generator [high intensity low frequency] ) = Module of plasma manipulation (Level 5: 2/6)
Module || (hyper concentrated magnetic field generator && energy field generators) = Module of energy shield manipulation (Level 4: 2/5)
Kanohi Hau Nuva: 18/25
Skarmory: 16/25
Lightning Bolt || Lightning rod: 2/?
Using my trace of magic, I shoot a cloud of smoke into Deadpool's path.
DTG0 Inventory: Radiant Sights, Spellweaver, Thunderstruck, Kanohi Hau Nuva
Mask work: Coming Soon!
BIONICLE Antics
Post II
Y destroys the Essence of the Destroyed by dropping the Wikipedia page for Deconstruction onto it, before giving the injured Soldier a Potion of Instant Health.
The enderman then hands Serpent a Thorns Potion.
Y: Drink this if he continues hugging you
Slumbersand 4/5
Possessed Hatchet && Thulecite Club && SCP-1008 2/X
Solar Monolith 8/15
SCP-882 8/25
I just sort of walk over to Uzi.
Then, I ask for a soft pretzel.
By the standards of Neo-Geraldian algebraic proofs, regardless of what Uzi does (seeing as this is a direct reaction to my actions, not her reactions) this means that either:
A.) Uzi now possesses a hot dog for a head.
B.) Uzi is incapable of licking her own toenails whilst juggling a frying pan greased in liquid flesh.
C.) Uzi is now a half-robotic potato capable of human speech.
This also means that:
If A is true, either:
D.) That hot dog is severed from Uzi's neck, and left in stagnant cart water for nine months until it is sold to a hungry biker on a trail somewhere in the state of Indiana, who promptly eats it, after applying pickle juice, of course, along with rancid mustard. This guy is a fan of sulfur and pickle juice, you see.
E.) The hot dog boils in the sun regardless of heat or presence of solar bodies, and is discarded, leaving Uzi headless.
F.) This hot dog specifically is a religious symbol to the people of the city of E'Varie Tluptos, who promptly descend from the heavens, and demand it back, resulting in a lengthy struggle wherein the hot dog is pried from Uzi's neck, and dragged away quietly.
If B is true, either:
G.) This show of dishonor is vastly offensive to one Howard Fitzgerald of the neighboring land of Nevarode, who immediately takes out his twenty frying pans coated in flesh, and begins juggling them whilst licking his toenails effortlessly, the damage to Uzi's self-esteem after being easily beaten at something like this dealing physical damage.
H.) A frying pan somewhere in the universe absorbs liquid flesh and radioactive material, and becomes the superhero Fleshpan, whose not-necessarily-phallic epithet terrifies every criminal out on the street, until they come to associate the sound of a cow licking its own eyeballs noisily with the destruction of all crime. Fleshpan flies to the server, and challenges Uzi to a watenhaser duel. Uzi, not knowing what a watenhaser is, instantly fails, and is beaten profusely by Fleshpan, who flies off into the distance, likely never to be seen again.
I.) Uzi, despite being unable to preform this particular set of actions, is set up by her greased-frypan-juggling-toenail-licker coach to go to the national finals. She surprisingly beats the first contestant to challenge her. This makes her rather overconfident, and she challenges the nearest person quite brazenly. This person turns out to be the reigning champion at the sport, Sir Robert Ivorywick, Jr. of Greater Bristol. Needless to say, the competition (which includes dueling with sharpened titanium matches whilst licking your own toenails and juggling frying pans greased in liquid flesh) is over quickly, in Ivorywick's favor.
If C is true, either:
J.) A group of famous scientists from the nation of Havania land on the server, and capture the talking potato with minimal effort, and store it in a museum, where it is to be displayed unto the end of time, left to wither away. Uzi breaks out, but the trauma is tangible.
K.) This talking potato is found on the streets by none other than Steven Spielberg, who was on the prowl for inspiration, as he had been selected to direct the next Indiana Jones movie in an alternate dimension where there were two movies in between The Last Crusade and Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, this being the second. This first was rather successful, and Spielberg has quite a high standard to hold his film to. As such, he decides to use the potato and its half-robotic qualities for several scenes. Long story short, it ended up getting shot a lot by Harrison Ford and guest star actors Ian McKellen and Ewan McGregor, who are in this film, for whatever reason. Spielberg and the rest of the film crew burn the potato in a campfire the day the movie is released. The movie makes millions, and is titled Indiana Jones and the Tuber Invincible on the day of release.
L.) The potato's half-robotic scent is picked up by a campire. Not a campfire, no. A campire. Campires are notoriously vicious vampire-campfire hybrids, obsessed with eating things live, and obsessed with robotics. The campire lord sinks his fangs into the potato's robotic half, and its density sort of... just decreases exponentially. The potato itself is then worshipped for several months by the campire and the rest of his campire coven, until it is eaten ceremonially on the eve of Yannameade. I disapprove, shaking my head. The entire campire coven suddenly ascends to the position of campire lord, after experiencing a sudden loss of up quarks in their bodies. They must all consume burnt firewood once a week, or else the local superstitious town will send an angry mob to slaughter them. They all eat firewood, and die of massive indigestion. The original campire lord regurgitates up the remnants of the potato, now a mass of fibers and starches, before curling up and dying.
If all OR none of the first three options were true, Uzi has become a waffle coated in vinegar, which is swiftly gobbled up into the snout of a hungry Snuffletrot, which are notorious for their waffle-stealing tendencies, and their vinegar addictions. The Snuffletrots scamper away.
If any of the above occurred (and at least one did, I assure you), then I get angry at Uzi for not giving me a soft pretzel (which she could never have given me). This means BOTH:
M.) Uzi is a walnut. Azathoth disapproves. Therefore, Uzi is now a walking, talking replica of herself made entirely of walnuts. Both Azathoth and I approve, and she falls apart. I approve with a thumbs up. She reforms, but all of her blood has been replaced with terrible soda.
N.) Uzi is suddenly assailed by a number of Ancient Havaldian (Havald borders Havania, famous for its football team, competitiveness with neighbors, and scientists, just saying) American football players. They demand she explain how exactly these people know what American football is, despite being from 1000 CE. She is unable to do so, because her brain is suddenly composed exclusively of spider eggs, which all hatch and devour her insides graphically, dealing no damage, but releasing large amounts of sleep toxins. The Ancient Havaldians play a game of football with her unconscious body, somehow managing to both throw and kick her. The second Ancient Havaldian team wins, with a score of 386.597, 41.6054 points greater than the first team's score, which was unbiased, as the referee flipped a seven sided coin beforehand. These numbers come to life and assault Uzi after jumping off of the scoreboard, and taking physical form. Uzi survives, but is smashed by the incarnation of logical football rules when she realizes that the two teams were completely arbitrary, and that I never specified anything about them specifically.
These both occur simultaneously, and the sheer improbability and impossibility of the situation causes Uzi to explode into raccoons wearing parachutes exclusively on their fifth arms whilst also singing the jolly tune of N'gha Ah America & Y-e.
NEW: Antique Sword && Note Block && Metronome (2/???)
NEW: Mind Honey Jar && Ritual Chalk (1/???)
(+2 to Generic)
(Spatial) Maelstrom 22/30 //////////////////////////////.
13/30 Starters 4
14/20 Badge 2 engie x2, uzi x2
+2 engie
Critical Gift M 4/4
Critical Gift M 4/4
___
Mercury uses a vacuum cleaner on the balloon whelp.
He then tosses TT2000 three Critical Gift Ms.
For joining the PZs.
==Turn 1==
Storm 28/50 (+1 from Generic)
Stone 28/50 (+1 from Generic)
+2 to Erelye.
Finite Improbability Device && Improbability Calculator == ??? 1/?
Hamburger && Cuil Measurement Device == Godmodder Damage Memorial (Cuil) 1/?
==Action==
Crystal looks around, searching for something to do, before he notices the Lemon-Lime Gatorade/Red Bull Colegmerate. He immediately jumps in surprise - he thought the Colegmerate died! - and blasts the Blob with a massive gush of crimson oblivion energy from the Wand of the Empty Set.
==Entities==
The Sketched Deathknight will target the Winged Animated Blob of Lemon-Lime Gatorade with a Black Bolt.
0rigin Point.
Avatar by TwinBuilder.
=Turn One=
(28 / 50) A Deck of Cards
+1 to FBSN
+1 to Pricey
=Action=
I respawn, and face towards Weegee. I then decide to have a bit of fun with him, and make him play my Mario Maker level! I pull out a contract, and he signs it, agreeing to play! However, he falls for his own ploy; in nearly microscopic text, it says that for each time he dies, he loses 1 HP! He shrugs and says something about being too good at Mario to die, and goes to play my level. Said level is called "KAZIO DEATHTRAP". He gulps, and starts playing the level.
The first thing he notices is a simple jump over a pit. Knowing that it's called "deathtrap", he quickly bumps an invisible block and retreats back to safety. He then goes on the block, and clears the pit. He then is confronted by a whole gauntlet of Piranha Plants and Lakitus! He runs through the gauntlet, dodging fireballs and raining beasts. And then he's confronted with a two walls; perfect for wall-jumping! He then runs in to evade my gauntlet, but fails to notice the off-screen Thwomp. It promptly crushes him, causing his first death. On his second run, he evades the Thwomp, and enters a part where he must grab a Bom-omb, and with perfect timing, throw it into a tiny gap to hit a P-Switch while saws storm in from every direction! He nails the throw right away, and climbs the stairs now there from the P-Switch.
However, as he rushes up the stairs, Thwomps start raining from the skies! He dodges every single last one, and attempts to make a wide jump! However, he smashes his head into an invisible block, and falls into a cluster of saws and Bowsers. Needless to say, he dies. When he starts his next attempt, he flawlessly makes it to the end of the level! He falls down a spiked shaft laden with coins, and sees the flag!
...which just so happens to be blocked by a wall of spikes, with no way over. He stares at me, and has a realization; the whole level was a ploy! While he stands there and yells at me, he fails to dodge the rain of saws I had planted to kill idle players there. He then starts back at the start. At the spawn, he then bumps an invisible block to the side, revealing a vine. After scaling the vine, he heads through a door, and ends up appearing three feet from the flag. He then proceeds to win the level. His next course of action is to slap me halfway across the battlefield, and light my Wii U console on fire. However, the console explodes, causing him to take the damage that he'd take from dying in the level!
The dream that you've never dreamed is suddenly about to FLOWER.
Chair-City? (Ind) (Tra)
I get an army of friendlies to dance on the soul of the core.
Quote: 30/50 (+1 from Twin)
Making the chicken...: 16/50 (+1 from Twin)
+2 to Twin
It's High Noon
==Turn 2==
Storm 30/50 (+1 from Generic, swiped from 2 posts down)
Stone 30/50 (+1 from Generic, swiped from 2 posts down)
+2 to Erelye.
Finite Improbability Device && Improbability Calculator == Improbability Computer 2/?
Hamburger && Cuil Measurement Device == Godmodder Damage Memorial (Cuil) 2/?
==Action==
An anvil falls from the sky, landing on the Winged Animated Blob of Lemon-Lime Gatorade(etc.) Normally this wouldn’t hurt an amorphous blob of liquid, but it turns out the anvil is filled with thermite! It heats up to massive temperature, boiling the Blob away.
==Entities==
The Sketched Deathknight will target the Winged Animated Blob of Lemon-Lime Gatorade(etc.) with a Black Bolt.
0rigin Point.
Avatar by TwinBuilder.
The Outlaws: 30/30 ============================== (+1 from tc2142)
The Winged: 27/30 ============================== (+2 from jondanger, +1 from tc2142 and MZ)
Scribe's Wands && Rorschach Drop || Blot of Ink = The Spillers (3/?)
One-Sided Die && Wands || Arcade Cabinet = Integer Overflow (1/?)
+2 to jondanger.
The Scribe grins at FBSN. "There's a reason it's called Dimension 493."
"Let's see here. I have the Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squadron and its subsidiaries and my beck and call - and the Captain as well, if the bribery succeeds. Who else can I enlist..." The Scribe looks over his Journal. "Don't fail me now, book." He flips through its pages and then finds something that makes him stop - a series of pages called Residents of the Nether. "Hm. This holds promise."
The Scribe looks over the pages, examining the writing and images he put on them long ago. "Cults of the Pigmen? No, something tells me they'd end up becoming a neutral force. Brick Colossus? Perhaps, but I would have to uproot an entire Nether Fortress. I could just use the Rorschach, but I don't exactly know how it would react with the Nether's volatility... The Aberration? Hah. I'll save that for later use. What about The Limbless? A soulless monstrosity of quartz... Also interesting. Wait. Here. This could definitely work. But how to appease them?"
The section the Scribe is looking at is titled Cowboys From Hell. There's some writing to go along with it. A merciless band of outlaws that roam the Nether, looking for its treasures. They have a fearsome army of the Nether's dangerous inhabitants, riding on horses of bone, horses of rotting flesh, and cancerous ghasts of lost souls. When adventuring in the Nether, always have some sort of artifact on hand to either hand to them so they leave you alone, or to use against them and leave without a trace. But be warned - they never forget a target, and the next time you venture into the Nether, they'll be looking for you. The actual outlaws are mostly Wither Skeletons, with their leader being some sort of being of power back when he was truly alive and not undead - I haven't quite figured out what.
The Scribe shuts his Journal and pulls out a large amount of obsidian. "Yes, their help would do nicely. But I'll need more than something to bribe them with. I'll need something that can augment them. If I can give them any sort of edge, anything to extend their usefulness, then that will be worth it." He starts laying down obsidian, presumably to set up some kind of Nether Portal. But the base he's building soon extends far past the normal boundaries of one. His complete product is an absolutely gargantuan Nether Portal, one that could fit many mobs at once.
"They're quite the crowd, and this thing will need to accommodate all of them. The upside and downside to this will be that an exact duplicate of this Portal will be constructed in the Nether the moment I pass through. That's an upside because all of the Cowboys From Hell will fit. The downside is that a Portal of this magnitude will instantly tip anyone in the Nether paying attention to my location, so I'll have to be quick. Now, the artifact."
The Scribe pulls out a copper-colored chest from his coat and sets it down on the ground, rummaging through it. "What I have planned will be incredibly risky, like several of my previous endeavors. But I must succeed. If this Nether Star is misused in any capacity, it could mean the end of the Nether. And, given my research on what lies beneath that inferno, that's a bad thing. (And that's an understatement.)" The Scribe pulls out some flint and steel, lighting it on the base of the Nether Portal. A flame is lit, which races across the Nether Portal's frame of its own accord, surging across its rectangular structure. It turns the color of amethyst, and, in a blinding flash, surges across the empty space of the portal and creating the flaming liquid that acts as the gateway to the underworld.
Adjusting his goggles and putting the Nether Star in a black pouch, the Scribe walks through the Nether Portal. A few seconds after he does so, it shuts off, the flame dispersing.
On the other side, the Scribe has taken a step into hell. The Nether is as devilish as ever, its eternal flame and cave-like structure raging on with no immediately discernible source of power. The Scribe turns around, his gauntlets surging with unknown energy. He raises a fist at an obsidian block and destroys it, shutting off the Nether Portal on both ends. He then walks across the Nether, seemingly searching for the Cowboys From Hell.
Yet, despite the Nether's smaller size from the Overworld, it's still a very large place, and the Scribe searches for what seems like forever, time blurring across the nonexistent heavens of hell. And then, the Scribe catches glimpses of movement in the distance. He sees figures riding on horses, and ghasts appearing behind cliffs and walls. There's only one group of mobs that would travel like that - the Cowboys. But there's a catch - they're running to him.
After several seconds, the Cowboys close in on the Scribe, encircling him. An armada of skeletons and wither skeletons on top of skeleton and zombie horses have gathered around the Scribe, with some wither skeleton horses among the mix. There are several ghasts floating above the Scribe, their eyes half-closed and their mouths lit, ready to fire. Riding the tallest wither skeleton horse is a wither skeleton with a tattered brown hat and a brown coat. When he speaks, it sounds like a dull rumble, like if an earthquake could talk.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't Little Mr. Anonymous. What identity are you under now, huh? You still call yourself the Scribe?" The Scribe grimaces, this sentence answering the skeleton's question for him. But since he doesn't see what I type, the Scribe talks as well. "...Yes. Do you still call yourself the Reaper? Or should I call you by your actual name, Damian?" Damian gets an ill response from this. "That is the name of a dead man! One who was like a broken compass! Directionless, wayward! The Reaper... Now that's a cool name!"
The Scribe crosses his arms. "One: do you have any idea at all how cliche the Reaper sounds? I wouldn't be suprised if there were twenty alive people with that title. I'd even bet that your fellow outlaws make fun of you behind your back for it." Damian looks around wildly. The other Cowboys have guilty expressions. Two: if you're saying that you were directionless, then I think you need to get educated on past and present tense. If you ask me, nothing's changed except the fact that now you're a black monstrosity from the--" "This place is not Hell! This is a better home than I ever had aboveground, and you know it! Now don't talk smack about my name! It's MINE, not yours!" The Scribe's expression darkens. "Likewise," he mutters.
The circle of cowboys closes in. "Now what are you doing here, anyway? That was a pretty big portal you came in through. What are you planning on leaving with? Or did you just decide to waste a cavernful of obsidian for fun? That's a valuable resource, you know." "I was planning on leaving with your team. As allies." Damian cackles, a horrible scraping sound. "Allies? Allies? You've broken the law too many times to be allies, Scribe! Every time we've come across you, you've had to pay for it. Sometimes you've escaped right away. Sometimes you haven't. This time, we're playing for keeps!"
The Cowboys From Hell rush at the Scribe, but he yells, "WAIT!" Everything stops as the Scribe holds up the Nether Star, its light bouncing across the surfaces of the Nether. Damian regards it with utter awe. "You... You actually found one? You found me one?" The Scribe's expression is grim. "Yes. Take it and use it as you will. I only ask that you aid me on the surface." Damian scowls. "I swore never to return there... unless I found this. Heheheh... Come, Scribe. Follow us. You're going to see the results of what you've just done in person."
The Scribe and the Cowboys From Hell begin to trek to a new location, speeding along the Nether's terrain, scaling cliffs, heading through caves, bounding over lava lakes. The Scribe breaks the silence - or rather, the distorted Wild West music playing from nothingness. "So you're willing to put all of our past conflicts aside because I gave you that Nether Star? Doesn't that seem... unlike you? You're one to hold a grudge."
Damian looks back at the Scribe. "How much do you know about us?" "All that I've discovered from our prior encounters. You're a merry band of misfits who are somehow outlaws by nature, cowboys by name, and sheriffs by pretense,--" "Don't go down that road." "--and are looking to plunder the Nether's secrets. You have insiders in locations throughout the Nether, you're constantly finding more loot, you're very feared, those who you capture are sent to your secret base known as The Bar, those who resist capture are sent to your torture chamber known as The Ale, your loot is stored in a vault known as The Stash, and there's one thing that you want above all else. If I had to guess, I'd say it's..."
Damian sighs. "The Nether Star, yep. What you don't know about us is plenty, by the way. Normally I wouldn't be telling you this, but we're in it for the long haul now. So listen up, and feel free to write this down in that nerdy book of yours." The Scribe instantly pulls out his Journal and flips to an empty page, writing in it.
"This team was founded when I died all those years ago and I ended up being a permanent resident of this place. I wanted all the power and treasure this place had to offer now that I was unliving here. Yet there was one thing I wanted above all else - the heart of the Nether's broken god, the Wither. To possess its Nether Star would be to gain ultimate power. From its light, you could craft beacons that amplified your physical power. From its crystal, you could craft magical weapons unrivaled in scope.
"But if you were to gain the whole Nether Star and seek out the corpse of the true and ancient Wither, the one buried beneath the Nether in frozen chains... If you were to fuse with that ancient power, and use the Nether Star to become one with one of the Nether's hidden powers... You would become a god. A god of hell. I could even have enough power to usurp that maniac that's ruling over this place." "A maniac?" "Yeah, that's his name. Maniac. A fitting name for the ruler of this place, I guess. Now, anyway. That's why I made this team. To get that Star, reawaken the Wither, and fuse with it.
"There was a catch, though. It turned out only the true and mighty Player could awaken the Wither and summon it in order to destroy it and gain its Star. So I just went around getting whatever other secondary loot I could find, until the unthinkable happens. You're not gonna believe this. Just, just guess what happened. The Player enters the Nether! What was his name... Oh, right! Yeah. It was Steve. He looked just like the Lord, it was disturbing.
"Using him, I got that Star. I awakened the Wither, and I fused with it. Oh yeah. I've done this all before. But I guess he thought I wasn't to be trusted with all that power, so he destroyed me and resealed the Wither and its Star in the process. I wonder why he felt the need to do that? I told him about his heritage, and that was that. My bones were scattered across the Nether's lava until it reformed me. Bada-bing, bada-boom. Like clockwork." The Scribe finishes writing everything down and looks up.
"You... You've been in contact with the Player?" "That's what I said, genius. Back when he was on his mighty and heroic Quest. God, that word makes me want to spit now. "Quest". I hate it so much. You know how he grew up and became the end result of the Player Cycle, right? He even ended up fighting in that Godmodding War... It's a wonder that he hasn't been reincarnated yet, actually." The Scribe stops completely. "...How do you know so much about the nature of Players?" Damian chuckles. "Hey, you learn a lot when you're in this place. 'It's where dreams come to die, it's where the spawn of dragons lie, it's where broken anachronism thrives - the Nether! You'll have a hell of a time!' Hahaha... That was back when we were doing an ad campaign for this place. We were trying to monetize hell... Heh. Still laugh from it. You can imagine how it all went over, of course. It was only rivaled by that time when a government tried to drill into here..."
The Cowboys stop their travels at the entrance of a dark and ancient cave. The lava around them has gradually turned from red to yellow to white, and now to a radiant blue. "This is it. Wither's Mouth."
The cave is dark and made from a dull grey stone unlike anything the Scribe has ever seen. He takes a sample from it and stores it away. "Don't think I didn't see that," Damian growls. "Don't mess with anything here. This place is sacred to everyone in the Nether." The Scribe rolls his eyes from behind his goggles. "Right. 'Don't mess with anything.' Says the guy who's about to fuse with a three-headed skeletal monstrosity." "Let me be more specific. You shouldn't mess with anything here."
Soon, the path is blocked by a large stone door with a swirling insignia carved into it. Damian's left hand turns into a shield constructed from black bone, and it fits perfectly with the carving. Blue torches light up everywhere, and the door swings open. "Here we are. This is the Wither's resting place." The Scribe takes in the array of power with awe, furiously writing things down. "The Wither was sealed here long ago after it was deemed to dangerous to coexist with the chaotic order of the Nether. Now we worship it and pray that, when it stirs, it is merciful. Tch. Heheheh. Heheheheh..." The Scribe looks up. "What?" "Oh, it's funny. It's funny that these people see this thing as a god. And now that I'm becoming the Wither..."
Damian's eyes light with blue fire. "That means I'm becoming a god, too. I know I've said that, and I know I've done it. But the magnitude of all this has really hit me now. This is... intense. Now, Scribe. Give me the Star." The Scribe hesitantly looks at the Nether Star in his fist. Grinning, he hands it to Damian, who speaks for the last time. "You're welcome."
Damian steps forward, looking at the Wither. It is trapped in the walls of the chamber they're in, the place holding it back as a frozen prison. Indeed, this looks like - somehow - a respite of cold amidst the unbearable heat of the Nether. The Wither's form is undisturbed and unmoving. Its skeletal form is intact, and an "x" cut into the center of it is glowing with a faint fire. As Damian steps closer, that fire glows more and more, until it burns brightly as Damian steps right next to the Wither.
Its three heads quiver and shake, their eyes opening for the first time in years. Lightning and fire emanate from them, and the chamber takes a menacing red hue, the torches around everyone turning from purple to a deep crimson not normally made by any fire. Damian cackles and shoves the Nether Star into the Wither's chest, creating a massive light show and echoing with the sounds of three tormented shrieks.
Minutes have passed since the Scribe's pass through the Nether Portal. Without warning, it lights once again, purple flames flickering around it. And without warning, a lumbering beast passes through that instantly makes an ominous wind whistle across the entire battlefield and turns the sky the color of dried blood. The sun's color turns a pale white, the grass and trees around wither away, and the clouds turn jet-black.
The beast itself is even worse. It looks like a massive wither skeleton-esque monstrosity with an actual body (not just a skeleton), but one made from the withering black bone of actual wither skeletons. Its chest is inscribed with horrifying patterns, and there is an "x" in the middle of it - one that contains a glowing Nether Star. Its arms are bulging with muscles, its legs have spikes with blue energy coming from them, and its head is still that of a skeleton - one with flaming blue eyes and a flaming blue mouth. The beast's back is riddled by jagged spikes that are made from bone but slowly gradient up to a radiant blue color with electricity twirling around them, and two massive spikes jut out from the thing's collarbone that ebb with dark energy. The worst thing about the beast is the fact that it doesn't have one head. Three additional heads protrude from its back on heavily fortified necks, and all of them are flaming with blue energy.
The Scribe grins like a madman. "Well then! I'd say that went quite well! The rest of the Cowboys From Hell had to be cannibalized for this to work, but I was spared. Now let's unleash this monstrosity on the rest of the world. I'll call you... Hm, no. You're sentient, you should get the freedom of choice. So what's your name?"
The beast pauses for several seconds, as if it's having a massive internal conflict. But then, it tenses and roars, uttering one word - a name.
CERBERUS.
Cerberus: [AZ] HP: This will be a bit complicated, more on that in a bit.
This thing is a freak of nature, a horrific fusion of a seemingly normal Wither Skeleton with the Wither itself. It's very powerful, and since it has four heads, it can only be killed when all four of them are defeated. Each head has its own HP bar, just like other multi-segment entities. Cerberus has several powerful attacks at its disposal, some of which are more effective the more heads there are. Unlike Octothorpe, Cerberus will remain loyal to the Scribe no matter what, since the Wither (and by extension, Cerberus) will relish the chance to fight UserZero, a being of power.
ATTACKS:
Ejection: The heads of Cerberus fire Wither Skulls at an enemy which explode at them, dealing moderate damage. Each live head fires a Skull, which means that if all heads are alive, the attack deals x4 damage than if only one head is.
Eruption: The heads of Cerberus create massive columns of flame that deal moderate damage and deal more damage depending on how many Heads there are. In addition, if an enemy attacks Cerberus that turn, there is a 75% chance they will be Burned for 2 turns.
Disruption: The Nether Star in Cerberus' chest creates a powerful shockwave of energy that deals high damage to an enemy and gives a 33% chance to Confuse said enemy for 2 turns. Can attack multiple enemies at once, but will deal less damage and will have the same chance for Confusion.
Conjunction: The spikes on Cerberus' collarbone will create twin jets of blue electricity that will hit an entity each for moderate damage. Has a 25% chance to hit twice, and gives a 66% chance to Paralyze the enemies for 1 turn.
Ignition: The heads of Cerberus fire at the ground and create columns of flame that lift Cerberus upwards, dealing damage to an enemy below and letting Cerberus attack another enemy from above for high damage. Since Cerberus is airbone and protected by flame, if an enemy attacks him that turn, there is a 66% chance they will miss.
Condition: The Nether Star in Cerberus' chest uses its power to help 2 random allies, giving them one of several helpful status effects for three turns. Strength, which will give minicrits: Speed, which will give a chance to dodge attacks, Regen, which will give a regen to HP, or Resistance, which will give increased defense. This attack can be used in addition to any other attack.
SPECIAL ATTACKS:
Eviction: The heads of Cerberus detach from its back and shift into a massive flaming sword that carves through an enemy, dealing high damage. The more heads that are active, the more damage the attack will deal. Takes three turns to charge.
Distinction: The heads of Cerberus close their eyes and the ground around Cerberus rumbles, lifting from the earth. From beneath, a massive plume of fire spews forth that washes over everything, cleansing an enemy in its power. The attack is unique in that the fire gets more powerful and deals more damage if less heads are alive. Takes four turns to charge.
PASSIVES:
Revive Kills Zombie: Allies should hurt Cerberus if they want to heal it.
Withering Away: Every attack Cerberus makes has a 20% chance to, no matter what, inflict the Wither status effect on an enemy, which (in case you don't remember) deals damage over time and prevents them from healing. This chance goes up as Cerberus' heads are destroyed, going up 20% with each destroyed head.
Desperation: When only one head is alive, Cerberus will gain a 33% chance to minicrit no matter what, and Condition will be able to effect three allies at once.
I start a new charge. To start, Cerberus uses Eruption on an enemy and Condition on two allies.
The Relative: 1/50 ================================================== [DATA ENCRYPTED]