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Does that mean no update this Sunday night?

/null, with the chance to become a post.

8 charge boosts in reserve

44/50 This World...

44/50 Has No Need For Gods

Anvil On Stick With Pottery Shards Attached && Anti-Roleplay Essence 2/??

+2 Bomber

I have no interest in basketball, so I scatter caltrops everywhere under the hoop, causing Charles Barkley to take damage if he scores a dunk, and also possibly popping some basketballs.

Thanks, Richard.

Well, that could have been useful.
Ford throws combustible lemons around the hoop.



Ender Matrix && Demon Blood Shard = Demonic Matrix (Level 5: 3/6)
Tea || RNGesus Shrine = ? (Level ?: 1/?)


38/50 Life (+2 from Richard)
6/20 splat tim


+2 to TheDrivingLlama.

I examine Calligraphy, and then look back to the Cyberdwarf, after noting the thumping. This thing is rather tough.

DEHLZK KHT APKAYRTK'J CNJJQPPLV MRZT DFGN WTJXR IH VTGRSPIJ.

I pull out a pen dripping heavily with an absurd amount of liquid ink. Gripping the thing carefully, I flash-step approximately thirty or so meters away from the Cyberdwarf's position, preparing for some offensive act or other.

I turn around several seconds later (traveling with flash-stepping or some derivation thereof is remarkably fruitful), and raise the pen into the air, seemingly inscribing a number of symbols into empty space. Nothing in particular seems to occur, and it is almost as if I were just attempting to plan for a far greater type of assault.

Of course, that is exactly the case, and if you thought otherwise, you certainly know nothing of my standardized post length. I spin the pen around several times in my hand, before appraising its quality. It appears to be a pure black pen held together with small rings of unadulterated silver, with the sign utilized to signify Squid Pro Quo ink emblazoned on the side. The squid's eyes on the logo seem to have a sinister air to them.

I raise the pen, once more, forming the symbols I had just inscribed into the air ineffectually once more, with far more care and precision. This time, there is quite a difference in outcome. Ink drips from the pen, and seems to splatter in midair, each blot forming a variety of strange and portentous symbols.

The symbols, upon being finished, float in the air, occasionally bobbing. They appear to be ancient symbols of the Aklo distinction, markings utilized by uncaring elder gods in their dominion over a plethora of strange planets. However, these gods were not the ones described by the author of strange fiction whose horror skills and racism were renown worldwide. These are the dark gods of some other era, of some other sort.

And perhaps they have greater power.

The symbols levitating in the air before me are quite intelligible, yet incomprehensible, primarily in the fact that there are essentially two people on the server who understand the language, one of which is me. If that other person were to look in my direction, and examine the symbols, they would know that they meant, in truth, one thing.

The second sentence is quite the claim, isn't it. Hah.

Pitch black ink oozes from the slightly blotted symbols like liquid void, splashing onto the floor. The ground beneath me is stained indelibly, a sort of corruption inflicting the pure dirt. The box and key in my inventory seem to grow rather heavy. Hmm. The tip of the pen is still dripping ink, this time onto my hand. With my other hand I grab the small box, and pull out the key. I slide the pen in between my fingers on one hand, and grab the key, putting it in the box's lock, and turning it thrice, before uttering a muttered word directly upon it.

I open the small box a sliver, and everything seems to shift in nature. The shrunken ribs of Octothorpe within, provided by the Scribe, as per our arrangement, seem to have a profound effect on the inky marks floating in thin air. The ink stains on the ground begin to creep toward the Cyberdwarf, accelerating at a pace of around 1.5 meters per second, though each advancement is irregular in nature. I close the box once more the moment black ink begins to drip from out of the slightly elevated space between the box's top and bottom halves, and place it, as well as the key, in my alchemical bag, which I have just procured. Perhaps I should work on improving storage space in the future.

The ink, having traversed around thirty meters to the Cyberdwarf's position, creeps around it, and below it, forming a blotted wet stain beneath the Cyberdwarf. Strings of a repeated phrase composed of liquid ink runes crawl up the Cyberdwarf's legs (or leg-analogues), and soon cover its entire body. These runes, if one were to decipher them, would be rather threatening, given their meaning.

The continuous phrase continues to repeat itself in runic form over the Cyberdwarf's body, overlapping other runes and such to attempt to fully cover it in ink. The Cyberdwarf's eyes roll into the back of his head, ink crawling over them moments later. If he were looking, the Cyberdwarf would have noticed five symbols rise up from the wet ink beneath and around him, to form one word.

Nothing transpires, for a brief, tense moment. The Cyberdwarf's ink-blurry eyes roll back into place, and he sees nothing has changed. The ink beneath him seems to be inching outwards, but this is to be expected, given its method of access to his position in the first place.

He does not expect it when the ink edging outwards suddenly arcs upward, forming the maw of some ancient horror around him. Iä! Iä! Dahgaitlah fhtagn. This maw in fact appears to be an actual inky maw of some creature. The Cyberdwarf blinks once, and is suddenly consumed as the ink around him bursts upwards, forming a squidlike beak, which he is promptly caught up in.

The beak opens up a mere crack, and blood dribbles out, splattering against the ground. The beak opens fully, a gaping maw into the depths of the Inky Abyss, and screeches. The scream can be heard serverwide, piercing the eardrums of all without fail, including the deaf, and those with sound turned off. The screech inflicts abject horror in the minds of all, without fail. Those nearest, a category from which I am thankfully exempt, suffer from the rupturing of their eardrums. The beak plunges downward, and disappears beneath the ground, leaving a massive puddle of ink around the Cyberdwarf, who is still alive, surprisingly, though his body has been mangled by direct exposure to the Void. The spaces where the ink stains originally were present are pure monochrome gray, corrupted eternally. I slip the pen in my hand into my alchemical bag, and watch as the small ink floods around the Cyberdwarf slowly subside.

---

Crow Feather Quill && Vial of Ink && Lesser Sigil of Creation = Calligraphy (6/6!)

---

(+2 to Generic)

Transience: 17/25 /////////////////////////.
Discord: 18/50 //////////////////////////////////////////////////.

---

I run my hands through my hair, sighing as I lean back in my computer chair. This war is quite stressful already. Why was I selected for this task, anyway? Ugh. I tab out of Minecraft, and click on my email, entirely unsurprised to find a new message.

SYMBOLHIGHT: KANERA
HATCH NAME: CINAVI
ID: #41Ω-5082
POSITION: LAWYERVISCERATOR, HIGH-GENERAL
CRIMINAL STATUS: N

To: KANERA, CINAVI

Regarding: PROJECT "03082115"

The existence of a number of beings of vast power and intelligence has just been brought to our attention by one of your most recent reports on PROJECT 03082115. After consulting the LORD-ARCHMAGE, we have determined that an invitation to GRAYHOLD CITADEL should be extended to each of the enclosed persons to suggest a research agreement/alliance/business venture.

You are to report to the CITADEL itself in approximately 125 HOURS to prepare for such a task, provided any accept the invitation. Please present yourself for inspection at HANGAR BAY 876-B COME FLEETDOCK with your partner at that time. As you know, the standard materials will be required, as well as the especial instruments of your particular project.

If there have been any mistakes regarding time, placement, ID, or project details, kindly THROW YOURSELF INTO THE NEAREST FLAME, AS THE BUREAUCRATS DO NOT HAVE THE TIME TO DEAL WITH PEOPLE ASKING RIDICULOUS QUESTIONS AS TO THEIR PROCESS.

Regards,
THE RESEARCH COMMITTEE

encl.

I stare at the screen for several seconds, before standing from my chair, and pushing it in, staring at the metal walls all the while. Oh, right. I probably should have mentioned this earlier. I am currently onboard my position upon the Grayholdian starship Mental Phthisis, presently in the orbit of some planet or other inhabited by Grayholdian forces in Universe C of the Aralous Cluster. But, enough of that. I peer out the window into deep space, take a deep breath, and sit back at my computer seat, tabbing back into Minecraft.

Today is the eleventh of Narbeleth (or, it is OOC). The date of birth of an ancient sorcerer. Actually, what is he up to?

>Centuries in the past...

—

Yet years in the future… (But not many.)

>Act 6 Act 1.

19 Nárië, 2015

Unending monotony. One could seek personal refuge, drowning in never-ending depths of sorrow and regret; an eternal war, lavish in its own futility. The very word "war" seems to have accumulated an... unctuous, or even tactless, exterior. How magnanimous to the power-weary, and threat-bearing. Mollification would be sublime, if not for the inevitable air of passage and continuity. This gamble for usurpation and supremacy over what is said to be our primary objective has already been lost, under the guise of potential victory, exceedingly small and arbitrary may it be. For what it's worth. Any efforts to shift this outcome may have been in vain regardless, as resignation to the inability to change the nature of both the faltering stalemate and the ostensible outcome has been premeditated (and has already occurred, or will, soon). Toiling without fruition shall do good no longer. A heretofore unmatched sense of poignance seems to flood the psyche of the one affected so. My immersion in the monotonous sequence of events has been long broken. A personal computing device, abandoned, for once. A dusty chamber, collapsed. A triangular demon, expunged.

>Your name is KALARE ERELYE.

Ah, yes. You were enquiring? I would be glad to oblige. I am, at the current moment, merely partaking of the wondrous silence, and brooding about uselessly frivolous things excessively verbosely. The true nature of these events has already been revealed. Or, they will be, soon. Glancing around the room absentmindedly, drowning in an ocean of personal thought, one would find nothing of interest to the uninitiated, or unobservant. Others, the archwizards, the deranged, and the psychically hypersensitive, might see other things. Strange things. Ingrained contours, the wriggling, quivering shadows in the corners, and the walls. Unsanctioned cosmic terrors undoubtedly twitching in the corners of my vision, and their murmuring voices as well. The Voices themselves seem to all be growing more extravagant and strained, a tortured crescendo of death and imminence leading up to a grand climax of proportions likely nigh-unfathomable. Something is undoubtedly coming. A hand at my side grasps a wand firmly, knuckles white upon the bronze rod, waiting for something, anything. Waves of sound ebb from what is either the nearest communicative speaker, or from the tortured recesses of my own mind. Somehow, I believe it is the former. At the utmost least.

Dialogue

—

Motions to rise from seats are made successfully, and glares at the corners of my vision are given, as if to tell off the very shadows and monsters hidden just behind my line of sight, a combination of possible vehemence and paranoia. The wand remains in my direct reach, entangled in my fingers, tightly restrained. The wretched form (filled with what is either intense self-loathing, or utter contempt for existence itself), within which I reside exits the room, giving a singular backward glare to the silence and emptiness. The path to the roof quickly follows, with suspicious backward glances and frothing discontent practically emerging from the crevices of the walls. Soon enough, a practically antediluvian door looms, with nothing save the apparent throbbing of thick, appalling harlequin nectar from a cracked pipe resounding with a perceived echo as it smashes against the metallic flooring. A partly cadaverous hand briefly stretches outwards, gripping the knob of the door, and twisting it firmly.

With swift ingress, I seal the aperture behind myself, peering outwards at the roof of the blighted celestial body. It takes mere moments until an etiolated sight is revealed, bitterly presenting the remnants of this group of living people. A silent look to the skies is immediately regretted as the incessant mutterings of dark gods pound at the walls of my consciousness with renewed vigor. The eyes of countless gods are felt, and I feign ignorance of this irreconcilable, immutable fact. However, the horizon reveals a completely spherical, gargantuan, phosphorescent bubble of reality, sanity, and even physicality in an endless void. Several figures are present slightly further from the entrance, conversing quietly. The wand within my grasp is slipped away discreetly, and movements are made towards them, the space between quickly vanishing.

The Seer, Ms. Seceip, diverts her attention for a moment to look me in the eyes, not offering as much as a curt acknowledgement before fully immersing herself in the repartee once more. I hover around the others for mere moments at a time, observing but never partaking in any real interactions, waiting for a few stragglers to arrive. Within minutes, they do. Ten living beings stand about. The Seer clears her throat. The remainder of the party all cease their conversations, looking to her, some disinterested, some with attentiveness, and others still with insincere attentiveness. Navela points directly at the massive bubble upon the horizon.

Dialogue

The bubble seems to be growing larger on the horizon as the meteor drifts towards it, ever so slowly.

Dialogue

The formerly collected group disperses, people spreading in every direction, several coming to ask questions. I stand stiffly, observing an insipid series of questions and overwhelmingly affirmative responses. Thrilling. After noting several figures making their way into the halls of the asteroid once more, I turn to leave. Navela's voice rings out.

Dialogue

A full ten seconds pass before there is a response.

Dialogue

An escape is made, into the monochromatic depths, towards a personal living space.

—

Upon entering the chamber unanimously referred to as my personal living space, I check to assure myself that the door is indeed locked. Just one more enquier, and the race will be truly afoot. A strange, almost sleek sensation constricts my throat as continuous pacing is conducted. Thoughts swarm about, slipping about in a cold mutual understanding. The dark promises of elder gods go ignored for several hours, as I steel my mind for the upcoming event. A quick gaze towards the nearest clock shows me that it is nearing an hour till midnight. Just seven more hours after this.

Without making much of a noticeable effort, I slide the top of the nearby refugilair off, leaving it to rest comfortably against the metal-plated wall of this godforsaken rock. Quickly removing most of my apparel, I clamber into the refugilair, as the cool gray liquid around me attempts to soothe my screaming mind. Minutes pass, perhaps hours, and yet nothing is asleep within the room. I float, deathly still, in the refugilair’s liquid contents, nails digging into palms and eyes forcing themselves to stay shut. Finally, I rise from the sarcophagus, unable to survive another second still in the esoteric deathtrap. I dry myself, wiping away some remnants of what seems to be abnormally cold liquid, donning my clothing once more. Exiting the room silently, I carefully traverse a well-trodden path to the kitchen, with a motive to perhaps make some tea, or coffee, even. The kitchen is entered, and I make the decision to attain a pot of coffee.

The kitchen is completely empty, lit by nothing more than the refrigerator and the coffee maker. Shortly after arriving, I take a seat on the plushest of sofas in the room, softly sipping from a mug of liquid caffeine.

Dialogue

I glance at the open aperture denoted to be the doorway, unsurprised to see Virnul leaning on the frame. He strides in, taking a seat next to me. I grab a second mug filled with the fresh coffee, offering it to him.

Dialogue

Virnul shifts on the sofa, to what appears to be a more comfortable position, taking the occasional swig from his caffeinated beverage.

Dialogue

A few minutes of silence pass, granting the opportunistic voices a chance to infiltrate my thoughts.

Dialogue

We both sit on the couch, somewhat reluctant to leave. I take a small sip from my mug. Silence reigns supreme for several moments, until I slide to the other end of the couch, enjoying the sudden warmth flooding inwards from Virnul’s close proximity as much as possible. Virnul immediately relaxes, evidently doing the same. I lean in after a moment without reaction, whispering something directly into his ear. His eyes shoot over to me, and he nods, adopting a concerned expression. I stand, mug in hand.

Dialogue

An exit is made, directly towards the nearest place of respite, namely my personal chamber. The next few hours are a blur. The strange, constricting sensation builds in my throat the entire time, not preventing the passage of air, but attempting to incite tension, to some effect. The blur of time is not without an air of deterrence, yet I decide to spend the remaining time strengthening my mind for what shall undoubtedly be filled with impromptu slaughter, whether on one side, or the other. The largest question is that of the participants.

I glare at my refugilair briefly, sitting upon the rim of the device. Leaning against the wall, I rub one of my temples in an attempt to soothe the raging tantrums of my caffeine-addled mind. I am nearly certain that I am the only person conscious at the current moment. Ironic for the only one who is not going. Undoubtedly, there are hours to go. Perhaps a visit the roof is in order. What better to clear the mind than staring into an infinite abyss filled with uncountable monsters of unfathomable nature or intent? Alternatively, the contemplation of an escape from everything into the cold clutches of oblivion via the medium of the roof’s lack of railing could be in order. It’s not as if anyone would notice.

After less than three seconds of primarily one-sided internal debate, a decision is reached. Without a doubt, this desire to leave this chamber twice was wrought of anxiety, or something of the sort. I attempt to make my exit as discreet as possible, twitching at the slightest creak from anything door-ward. Reasonably satisfied with my handiwork (or at least as much as one can be without inviting another wave of self-loathing), I creep up the staircase of this relatively large place of respite, before stepping upon a transportalizer pad. With a flash of white, I step forwards to the pad within the center of the room, completely and utterly ignoring the other eleven marked pads. The common room remains as deserted as it should be at this ungodly hour, and I quietly head for a familiar aperture, walking through. As I reach a sharp turn in the hallway, a quiet repartee becomes painfully evident, perforating the formerly immaculate bubble of silence. I continue walking without as much as a pause, taking a different course than had been initially decided upon, focusing my aural senses all the while.

Dialogue

I take another sharp turn, staring down the bend with a piercing glare. Some distance down the egress, two figures stand; one clad in the traditional garb of a Seer of Time, the other in what appears to be regular clothing, blending in with the drab grays and blacks of the wall to some comparatively minuscule extent.

Dialogue

The two jump visibly, spinning around. Navela and Virnul both look at each other for several seconds, before a reply is granted.

Dialogue

Grim looks adorn all of our faces. At this point, nobody is whispering. None of our voices are particularly loud anyway, and there are no inhabited rooms nearby, so it seems to be a logical course of action.

Dialogue

Virnul pushes his glasses a slight bit further up the bridge of his nose.

Dialogue

Virnul immediately saunters off, back toward the direction from whence I came. I follow, matching his pace, with Navela behind, seemingly lost in thought. We reach the second corner, and begin to head towards the common area once more. Without thinking, I stray far ahead of the group, sliding another doorway open, and leaning against the frame, waiting. Virnul and Navela arrive nearly half a minute later, and we ascend the staircase beyond. A strange look arises in Virnul’s eyes. Slowly, we reach the roof. The door opens with virtually no resistance, and the three of us step out to the dark skies. The blue-rimmed dream bubble upon the horizon is just as distant as it was previously, if not more so.

My eyes whip about, before looking upwards, into the sky. Piercing cries of agony and desperate pleas wrack my mind, along with whispered promises from distant gods, barriers laid low by lack of sleep serving no good against their prodding queries and thoughts. Everything grows steadily more intense. Virnul points to the black abyss above us.

Dialogue

Navela provides an undoubtedly witty and bitter rebuttal. However, I am not really listening. My eyes are far too focused the voided skies. I want to look away, and it legitimately pains me to peer into the depths of the abyss, yet I cannot look in any other direction. Screaming and pleading and those ixfmlqj whispers echo around in my head, seemingly my only companions as I stare with a blank face, hearing Their promises grow ever stronger and more incessant. They desire my cooperation, and They will not take no for an answer. Mocking nausea, likely just some sort of illusion of my worthless rotted mutant brain, seems to become a reality, of sorts.

I continue to stare, unable to look away, a pain growing in my throat, more than usual. Evidently, Virnul and Navela notice.

Dialogue

I abruptly cut off my sentence, realizing (rather late) that this pain originated from a lack of air. Idiot. I move to gasp some in, only to begin drowning in it. I start to panic somewhat, dropping portions of what could ordinarily be described as my aloof facade, and flailing, attempting to grasp something to hold me down, because if I don’t, I’ll just float into the void forever, I just know it. Virnul and Navela scramble over to try and help. They are trying to detach me from the only thing stopping me from falling into their clutches, and the literal void of space. As such, I push them away.

I topple to the ground, groping desperately for something to serve as an anchor to the world, feeling waves of vertigo wash over me, accompanied by increasingly greater bouts of nausea. My unsteady breathing quickly grows into rasping breath, under which I can hear some faint white-noise.

Dialogue

I swiftly attempt to stand and move. My body cannot function without a lack of air, if that wasn’t already obvious. Everything grows blurry at the edges, malformed and twisted. My previous attempt to rise almost immediately fails, and I begin to collapse to the floor. Something warm wraps its arms around me, serving as some form of buffer, slowly lowering me to the floor. I gasp in as much breath as possible, immediately grabbing onto the arms. This time, their speech is effable.

Dialogue

My response is quiet, yet clear.

Dialogue

I quirk an eyebrow up, questioning him with what little energy I have to spare not using to just breathe normally.

Dialogue

I regain an expressionless face, still slightly strained by panic, as this small talk calms my raging nerves and immediate instinct to force Virnul away, and escape, to plunge of this roof and relieve both Navela and him of my inadequacy. Inadequacy in all subjects, save that of mindless destruction. For I am not a logical man. I am a menace, the destroyer of two universes.

Dialogue

I slide my arms upward, to grasp his shoulders as he puts me down, nodding reluctantly. I stand, roughly, using him as a support.

Dialogue

With that, we enter the meteor once more, the glimmer of the dream bubble upon the horizon casting a mocking glow in the sky.

4/50 Chief of Espionage

4/10 Assault Team Omega

Inventory:

Data Crystal (Level 1)

Chaos Control "Sword" (Level 5)

Holocrom Datea Storige (Level 0)

Shockjewel Armor (Level 3)

HOW DARE THE PZ's ATTACK ME! THIS CALLS FOR RETALIATION!

I command The Spirit of Motherwill to fire the 3 long range cannons on Cyberdwarf and if i count correctly that 90,000 damage.

I also command it to fire the short ranged cannons at Cyberdwarf as well as start producing drones.

I call for the squads to stop searching for now and put their engineering skills they learned at SigmaModding Academy to good use and repair the Spirit of Motherwill.

I decide to use the Chaos Control and lets see if he can play hardball.

I use chaos control to instantly teleport the ball millions of times per nano second while simultaneously summoning 1 million identical balls to confuse him and the identical balls all all hydrogen nukes.

And they are all exploding ... on his face and by face i mean in his stomach.

Pretty Pretty, Shiny Shiny: 10/25 =========================

A Tactical Genius: 7/50 ==================================================

+2 to Crystal

---

Unfortunately, the Cyberdwarf has ended up surviving the round, and the King Bob-omb unharmed due to being defended by a guy with abnormally heavy fists. Things really didn't turn out quite as planned, but formulating a new one tended to be an enjoyable activity. This time, Bomber had an idea that could have unpredictable results.

Using his Empowered Gargoyle Staff, he twirled it in his hands in a large circle in front of him. A blue outline was swept through the air, which soon became a portal in front of him. Giventhat he had no destination in mind, the portal led to somewhere entirely random. What was about to emerge from the portal could be literally anyone, or anything. Bomber took several steps back, ready to assert his dominion over what horrible creature or foolish man dare step through.

All that came tumbling out was a little, insignificant walnut. The portal closed behind it's anticlimactic entry, leaving it resting in the slimy creep. Bomber slowly walked over and picked it up, wiping some of the muck off with a finger. "A.... walnut. I open a portal to literally anywhere, and all I get. Is. A WALNUT!?" He raised his voice, quite angry with the result. In reaction to the appearance of the entirely insignificant walnut, he hurls it as hard as he can at the Cyberdwarf. It flies at a bullet-like speed.

Of course, the Cyberdwarf is able to catch the walnut with his B-ball skills, and he simply takes a moment to examine it. It was then that the effects of the strange walnut took action. Examining the walnut, Cyberdwarf began to think about the state of his existence. This simple little walnut has got it all figured out. It is simply flawless, really. Its shell was perfectly smooth, abnormal for a walnut. Indeed, it had an odd sense of perfection to it. But what of he, the Cyberdwarf? He has fulfilled his purpose in life by aiding Charles Barkley in his quest, but what is he doing now? The walnut made him feel insignificant, alone, and imperfect. The revelation cracks his mind, sending him into a brief depressive spiral. The walnut continues having a more adverse effect, telling him that pain is the only answer. The Cyberdwarf would suddenly find a knife from an unknown source in his hand. While he may have second thoughts on this, his arms were moving automatically. He began to stab himself repeatedly, wishing for an ending to the horrible revelation. He wishes he had never gazed upon this walnut! The Cyberdwarf causes terrible self-harm damage to himself, and when he is finally able to stop himself he finds that both the knife and the walnut are nowhere to be found.

Bomber had seen the whole thing, and was utterly baffled. "Just what in the world did I just witness?" Sick curiosity tugged at his mind, and he decided to search The Book of Tzeentch for answers. The book held more pages than it would seem, and after a moment of searching he found it.

The Rhadamanthine Walnut. This strange object poses as a slightly abnormal walnut, having a smooth shell rather than a lumpy one. It is said to have a horrible effect on the mind for those who observe it for too long. Its immaculate qualities causes an overwhelming sense of insignificance, leading to depression and self-harming tendencies. The walnut seems to even usher people on to self-harm, and may find a knife in their hand even if there was no knives near them before.

Bomber simply closed the book after reading a fraction of the entry. There were a few things that even he found a little outlandish. This would be one of them.

The Bolt of Change had finished charging, much to the delight of the group of Horrors. A large globe formed above the crowd, which appeared to be an ever-changing fleshy mass that radiated a spectrum of colors. The projectile flew towards the Cyberdwarf like a firework, leaving behind a strangely beautiful trail of arcane sparks and wisps. The Bolt of Change slammed into the Cyberdwarf, causing immense pain. He would find himself painfully warping, twisting in impossible ways. His skin would bubble and start to drip, and his right arm would grow a second hand. Not long after, the hand would snap off and crawl away before decaying into a pile of goo. The crowd of Horrors cackled with glee at the sight, finding all the shapes and forms he shifted into entertaining. The effects would wear off after a short while.

doggy continues firing his laser at the Cyberdwarf, wanting that sweet, sweet laser charge damage.

---

Paerotheum Dust && Bullet Casing = Paerotheum Bullet (Level 4: 4/5)

Energy Booster && Vitality Booster && Point Booster = Soul Booster (Level 5: 3/6)

K4yne, Cerberus is a 4-headed Wither. Not a dog.

33/50 Dark Bowser (+1 from Ire)

+2 Irecreeper, for a total of +4 from me this turn

"You know, Charles Barkley, I find you are similar to Babe Ruth: you were good at a sport, but could have been so much better if you hadn't eaten so much junk food."

Attack 3: Reality Ensues/First World Problems

The McDonalds Corporation enters the Battle! They drown Charles Barkley in all the fast food he can eat, times 68 million. Then, they dump coffee heated to unreasonable temperatures on him. He tries to sue them, but they show the coffee cup's warning that makes them lose all financial responsibility: 'Warning: Coffee is hot'. They then reveal that all the burgers he ate are made of a low quality cut of meat known as Pink Slime.

Hearing this, Charles Barkley throws up all the food he ate.

So, he decides to go to a bar. They give him a large amount of alcohol, making him drunk. Very drunk, considering the lack of food in his stomach. He staggers off the court and tries to hit on The Captain. Failing that, he tries to hit on the Elite Swordsmaster. Failing that as well, he tries to hit on...wait, why is he trying to hit on the Enderdragon? The Balloon Drake? THE ZERG?

After recovering from his massive hangover, the sheer amount of mind bleach forgetting this incident requires puts Charles Barkley into a month-long coma. He is forced to pay exorbitant hospital bills outside his ability to pay with pocket change. He tries to withdraw money from banking accounts, but "Sorry Charlie, your bank account is in another dimension". Charles Barkley stumbles back onto the court, literally indebted to me since I gave him money to pay for his hospital stay.

I take advantage of this debt by taking it back in the form of his HP.

3/6 Attacks Remaining

Now that I think about it, Mega Mushrooms are one of the most useful alchemies I could have possibly created.

Alchemies

MoYu AoLong && Polonium Container of Polonium Manipulation Energies = MoYu PoLong (3/4)

Wand of Striking && Wand of Fire = ??? (2/?)

Charges

Project M06-Internationalization (20/50)

Project M05-NetHack.exe (40/40 - TAZZ Y U NO FIX MY POST)

+2 to tc2142

Action

I get really mad that my post summoning the Wizard of Yendor was not fixed.

I then pull out the Codex U8 and begin hurling spells at Cyberdwarf. "0031 0035 0038 0032 0034 0030 0034 0039 0038 0031 0030 0037 0030 0030 338F 26DF 296C!" A truck appears out of nowhere, weighing way too much to be able to move. It, despite its weight, runs over Cyberdwarf. That's gotta hurt, even if your skin is b-ball skin. "2622 221E 1F3C0 20E0"! Cyberdwarf is subject to a lethal dose of anti-b-ball radioactivity! What's anti-b-ball radioactivity? Well, I don't know much except it destroys basketballs and anything made from basketballs, so Cyberdwarf's skin is destroyed! "1F4A3!" A bomb falls on Cyberdwarf, blowing up the second it hits him!

---

SINCE THE WIZARD OF YENDOR WAS NOT SUMMONED LAST TURN:

---

I pull out some magic chalk and draw a few circles of glyphs on the ground. On closer inspection, these glyphs are code page 437 characters, as you would see on a terminal. The glyphs glow and a giant plus sign appears, standing vertically in the middle of the summoning circle.

The plus sign turns into a minus sign, confusing and misleading everyone who is not familiar with roguelikes. My opened mind sees into a giant landscape made of code page 437 characters. I pull out a slash.

I zap it at the door and a keyboard appears before me, also made of code page 437 characters. I press > and the landscape shifts to a top-down view of dungeon level 1. I continue to mash >, entering deeper in the dungeon. I pass by a purple @.

On closer inspection (pressing the . key), it appears to be some sort of elf. Not what I need. I go deeper, into what appears to be ASCII hell. Gehennom, they call it. I delve even deeper, then go up. Arriving at a tower, I ascend. A purple @ stands in my line of sight.

Ah, yes, the Wizard of Yendor. I quickly zap the wand at him, pulling him towards me. "You are mine now, Rodney."

The Wizard of Yendor stands on the battlefield under my control, ready to fight.

[N] The Wizard of Yendor: 122,000/122,000 HP. Summon Nasties [|||]. Aggravate Monsters [|||]. Double Trouble [|||||].

Summon Nasties: 3-turn charge. Summons any 3 of the following at random, which will all attack independently:

Aggravate Monsters: Causes 3 random entities to be forced to attack the Wizard of Yendor's target. Summoned entities from Summon Nasties are not counted in this random selection.

Double Trouble: The Wizard of Yendor summons a decoy Wizard of Yendor. The two wizards are identical and thus indistinguishable from each other; hence, attacks aimed at one have a 50% chance of hitting the other.

Entity Command

The Wizard of Yendor will attack the TNT Cannon, or any of Barkley's lackeys/companions if the TNT Cannon has been destroyed.

Zombenstein: 15/50

Boney: 14/50

Bugs Bunny throws an anvil at Charles Barkley (somehow).

=Turn One=

(1 / 20) R e m e m b e r m e , s o I m a y l i v e o n .

(5 / 10) Divine Barrier (+4 total, from Hezetor, FBSN)

+1 to FBSN

+1 to Hezetor

=Action=

I quickly summon the Page-Holding Duct-Tape! It proceeds to fly to the Lesser Balloon Whelp and patches up all the holes in in, removing the Leaking status effect. This also fully restores it's HP but that doesn't really matter.

=Command=

Valeera gains +1 Mana, and proceeds to draw a card! (Shouldn't she gain mana at the start of every turn, rather than the end of every turn?)

CARD DRAWN: (x1) Deadly Poison

Valeera proceeds to expend 2 Mana to throw down a Goblin Auto Barber.

Post II

Y feeds the Heavy Fists Guy who Just Ate Chocolate some more chocolate. Poisonous chocolate.

He then sticks several band-aids to one of the Soul of the Core's heads.

Medigun && Clentaminator

Life fruit && SCP-1615

Solar Monolith 12/15

SCP-882 12/25

00C: My current motives are to destroy UserZero, destroy The Shadow, and prevent Rick from ascending to 0mega+. I have no grudge against godmodders who do not side with Rick or Uzi. They can't all be PUURE EEVIL, can they? I think that I and my entities will remain Neutral, but I am still going to help the Antigodmodders/Gotterstöters/Godmoddararseltuggare.

I have no idea what's going on, and little inclination to fix that.

>Agent: Launch untargeted low-yield hafnium device, take shelter from local fallout.

Walker: level 1, 439000 damage

Best Pun Ever: 19/50

Alpha Phantom: 5/5 (+2 from UserZero, +2 from Fseftr)

+2 to Fseftr

Walker directs the quickly summoned Alpha Phantom to attack the Most Beautiful Thing In The World. The Alpha Phantom clearly has issues with this, but... well, Walker's in charge of it. Orders are orders.

Alchemies

MoYu AoLong && Polonium Container of Polonium Manipulation Energies = MoYu PoLong (4/4)

MoYu PoLong: A 3x3 Rubik's cube made of glow-in-the-dark material. The white center piece has the Chinese character 钋 on it, and the yellow center piece has a radioactivity symbol on it. It has the power to manipulate the chemical element polonium.

Wand of Striking && Wand of Fire = ??? (3/?)

Charges

Project M06-Internationalization (20/50)

Project M07-The Phonetician (1/50)

+2 to tc2142

Action

I pull out a Roflcopter Launcher. The Roflcopter Launcher launches roflcopters laced with explosives. I proceed to launch roflcopters at Balthios, which all divebomb him.

I look back to the Cyberdwarf. Enjoy that massive exposition? Don't worry, that wasn't even half of what I have so far.

Well, time to breed a horrendous eldritch chicken.

I just sort of… place a chair down, right in front of the Cyberdwarf. I dig a single-block, two meter-deep hole into the ground, fill the bottom with netherrack, and ignite it with a flint and steel. Then, I place a Crucible directly above the fire itself, pouring a bucket of water into the thing. I sit down in the chair, crossing my legs, and looking over to the Cyberdwarf of the other side of the Crucible full of slowly boiling water.

TA: Ygg g'ah?
TA: You… don't speak Aklo, do you. Of course. That's just ruined the mood.

The water suddenly begins to boil, bubbling. I stand, and peer into the thing. Excellent. I toss two blocks of netherrack into the water. They both dissolve almost instantly, and the water grows purple and murky with unfiltered essentia. I slowly pull out what appears to be a piece of raw beef, and drop it into the Crucible as well. It dissolves as well. Then, I take out an egg, and prepare to create an Incubated Egg. Yeah, while this may be an ingenious method to creating chickens, this isn't exactly what I want. As such, I drop a single voidmetal nugget into the frothing purple water as well, before adding the egg. Orchid sparks fly from the cauldron, and I pull an egg with strange spiraling dark indigo patterns upon the shell from the water.

Then, I carefully extract the Crucible from its position with a voidmetal pick, and replace it with a small plate of carbon directly above the flame. I place the egg atop this, and lean back in my chair. I pull two sticks from my inventory, attach marshmallows to the top of both, and hand one to the Cyberdwarf. May as well. I place another chair down opposite the fire, and gesture for the Cyberdwarf to sit.

We just roast our marshmallows for around five minutes. Then, moments after consuming them, the first cracks begin to spiral across the surface of the egg. These things grow incredibly fast. I toss my roasting stick to the side, and stand, wiping off my hands almost mockingly. Well, it was nice having this, but now it's time for me to kill you.

Further cracks appear on the egg. I observe carefully, waiting. A beak perforates the shell, and I take a step back. Moments later, it breaks free, crawling off of the heated carbon plate.

The Cyberdwarf quickly sees that I was clearly joking, as there is nothing to fear. It is but a newly-born chicken. As he thinks this, I ready my Bow of Bone and several Ignis-infused Elemental Arrows to deal with the mess that will come afterwards.

The chicken stands, and walks straight over to the Cyberdwarf, approximately half a meter tall, if even that. It pecks near the Cyberdwarf's foot several times, and then promptly grows ten blocks taller.

The chicken, eyes as empty as the void, raises its head to the sky, and lets out a frightening and maddened squawk, before turning to face the Cyberdwarf, blood dripping from its every bodily orifice. The psychotic chicken makes the first move, tearing a large portion of the Cyberdwarf's face off with its beak immediately.

As the Cyberdwarf inevitably recoils, the chicken uses its powerful feet to kick the being to the ground, before viciously pecking at his eyeballs. The chicken's saliva, having been afflicted with the Void as well, is highly corrosive, and begins to tear through any opposition, permanently scarring the Cyberdwarf's face as well. I draw my bow back, pointing it at the chicken. It's not as if it will be possible to miss, anyhow. Only powerful elemental fire can destroy such voidtouched beings.

The chicken tears at the Cyberdwarf's face some more, occasionally letting out another torturous squawk. I loose an arrow into the beast, and watch it burn. Its ashes lay atop the Cyberdwarf, and I watch the fellow rise. I immediately inform him that he is obligated to join our side in the war, seeing as I just saved him from certain death by eldritch chicken mauling, and that his debt will be repaid if he does so, also saving him from his duty, and his inevitable death at the hands of the AZs.

If the Cyberdwarf accepts, I shake his hand, and welcome him to the AZ side, a smirk on my face.

If he declines, I channel the chicken's essence through the ashes, and inflict the Cyberdwarf with constant visions of the beast which traumatized him, trapping him in a timelock until he decides to join the AZs, or somehow develops an immunity to the visions. Either outcome works, really.

---

(+2 to Generic)

Transience: 18/25 /////////////////////////.
Discord: 19/50 //////////////////////////////////////////////////.

38/50

New Alchemy: Generic Bow + Richard-themed designer bow

Okay, so MAYBE I should have waited a bit on deploying that entity. But that's NO EXCUSE for rear-kicking!

I activate COUNTER, a skill that I totally had and didn't godmod in, and kick Uzi in the rear TWICE as revenge!

Then I sigh and beam instructions into Barkley's mind on how to avoid destroying the most beautiful thing in the world with his AoE attack.

D'aww... Now that's it.

Suppression Turrets: 13/20

Leviathan: 3/30

I throw a trio of basketballs in the direction of Charles Barkley! While he has no problem blocking the balls, I use his enthusiasm with my challenge to my advantage! While Charles Barkley is distracted with his accomplishment of a hat trick, I use this opportunity where he is distracted to take out my Telklacki Forcebarrage and empty my entire magazine into his stomach.

27/50 Binary Slime

7/30 Badge 4 engie x4 uzi x2

+2 engie *cough*

Airstrike Beacon AND Ultra Balls 1/?

Physical Search Engine AND Table of Contents 2/2

___

PZs, I suggest you attack doggy.

___

The air around doggy flashes into binary, and then the binary solidifies into a shaderock cage. The cage begins shrinking, closing in on doggy. He suddenly develops sudden claustrophobia, except a phobia is an irrational fear, and this is a very rational one of being crushed by the shaderock. He closes his eyes so tight, he doesn't even notice the shaderock cage has stopped shrinking, Mercury is next to him in it, and he is being attacked viciously with a diamond sword. He'll.... probably need a therapist after this.

Hours later, when doggy finally opens his eyes, he sees that he's not in the cage anymore. He's falling out of it into a vat of acid-lava. Acid lava is acidic lava, dummy, what else would it be? Duh. Anyways, he falls into the vat. While he's burning-dissolving, he notices the vat isn't very big, and begins panicking from his newfound claustrophobia. Ah well, no point in getting him a therapist now, considering he's melting-....melting.

After a few hours, Mercury walks up to the vat after catching up on the pokemon anime, for some stupid reason, and tips it over with his superhuman strength. That's... not actually that impressive, it's superhuman, not super-Minecraftian. What's left of doggy spills onto the ground, and Mercury proceeds to... hire him a therapist. Why? That'll come apparent soon enough... in like two sentences, just read on, jeez. Why aren't you reading on? There's nothing here. Stop. Stop. Just stop reading already, every word you read is hurting doggy, didn't you know? Of course you didn't, if you cared about people, you would've just stopped reading the first time I told you to, jeez. No means no.

After many hours of therapy, doggy has somewhat recovered from his phobia, and then Mercury murder the therapist with his sword, devastating doggy, and leaving him open for further attacks, which happen shortly after. I mean... it'd be pretty dumb if he was left vulnerable and Mercury didn't take advantage. Erm, you know what I mean. Mercury easily crushes doggy in their little fight. It's a dog.

Post II

Y jumps into the gravitational pull of the Traho, taking out a Gravity Globe and duct-taping it onto the chestplate using extra-strong ducttape marinated in Gravitation Potions. Y then takes out a Gravitation potion, hastily drinking it before noticing that it tastes awfully like duct tape, and swaps gravity, The Traho's gravitational pull sending him flying straight towards Balthios James. The one-eyed enderman extends his leg, planning to score a flying kick on the octoroon, but loses his balance and crashes straight into Balthios, reflexively clawing him before smashing the empty potion bottle over his head and teleporting away.

Medigun && Clentaminator 2/X

Life fruit && SCP-1615 2/X

Solar Monolith 13/15

SCP-882 13/25

The factory (the entity not the alchemy) will produce Protettores with energy shield and regeneration (thanks to the new modules) giving birth to the protettore v 1.1 with a great energy shield (after all the do not need to attack or to move around so we could build them with heavy shield generator and thanks to the nano-machines they are capable of repairing themselves)

Half of the alive protettores will now protect IMTE.

---

I do not have time to mange the zergs, but I do believe that the Hatcheries are now ready, if they start to produce larvas, 1/3 of the larvas will be Overlord, 1/3 drones and 1/3 zerglings.

The spawning pool should have ended the upgrade to the zerglings? That should give them 40% attack speed.

Zerglings will attack Cyberdwarf.

---

+2 to Irecreeper

Charges

IMTE working on Letuuma 9/40

Concordant Killer 2/25

Rugname 9/50 +2 from Irecreeper

Module || (laser gun && blank book)= Module of weapons production (Level 5: 6/6) Done

Module || (repair kit && nanobot) = Module of machine regeneration (Level 5: 6/6) Done

Both installed in the Factory

Tazz don't get mad for the names.

module && flying module =? 1/?

I wonder what this could ever be.

Nerve laser gun mk1 && VE agent = Nerve laser gun mk2

I would like a preview of:

Flying Throne > fine

Orb of energy manipulation >fine