Roleplaying board in Spanish — games, stories, and systems.
Description
No.6994
/hisrol/ — Role in Spanish
Presentation
No.6998
Board Presentation — /hisrol/
This is Anatase's Spanish roleplaying board. You can use it to set up games with any system, turn-based strategy games, or simply to tell stories. You can also share anecdotes from your games.
You can have multiple active threads at the same time, as long as the previous one has reached the bump limit.
Rules
>Maintain a respectful tone with other participants.
>NSFW content goes in spoiler.
>No spam or derailing other threads.
>If a thread doesn't interest you, ignore it.
Bump limit: 200 posts. To roll dice type /roll{fórmula} in your post, for example 1d20 = 8.
This is Anatase's Spanish roleplaying board. You can use it to set up games with any system, turn-based strategy games, or simply to tell stories. You can also share anecdotes from your games.
You can have multiple active threads at the same time, as long as the previous one has reached the bump limit.
Rules
>Maintain a respectful tone with other participants.
>NSFW content goes in spoiler.
>No spam or derailing other threads.
>If a thread doesn't interest you, ignore it.
Bump limit: 200 posts. To roll dice type /roll{fórmula} in your post, for example 1d20 = 8.
New Thread
37 threads
·
5 pages
One-night role in the cuckchair
>Name
>Age
>Sex
>History
>Race
>Stats
>Name
>Age
>Sex
>History
>Race
>Stats
>>6896 →
>Rejected.
Besides being a faggot, you're demanding.
I'm going to create the most cucked character sheet for you, and you're going to masturbate reading it, you piece of shit nigger.
>Rejected.
Besides being a faggot, you're demanding.
I'm going to create the most cucked character sheet for you, and you're going to masturbate reading it, you piece of shit nigger.
>>6874 →
>>6910 →
>Name
Cuckyn Mcucker
>Age
21
>Sex
Male
>History
https://youtu.be/sySlY1XKlhM
▶This is how my day has been... I was almost suspended from university, I think besides being a cuck I'm also gay, I lost the girl of my dreams, and I got beaten up pretty badly. Still, things could be a lot worse. Oh wait, I'm falling to my death, so no. How did I get here, you'll ask.
My end begins a few days ago, my starting point....
....
My name is Cuckyn, Cuckyn Mcucker.
I'm 24 years old and in my fourth year of Microfusion Engineering at university. I wasn't one of those students who stand out in the hallways or in campus conversations like the GigaChads or Brads, with their Mega Stacys like in the 90s movies. Rather, I was one of those genetic trash losers, but not so much that I was remarkable, like those who smell of semen, because yes, masturbation has a smell. Academically, I wasn't a disaster, but I wasn't brilliant either. I understood the principles of my major, I could solve complex equations and survive long thermal simulation labs, but I struggled with human noise: groups, others' laughter, the ease with which others seemed to exist without thinking too much. My refuge was the nights, the cramped university dorm room, and the blue light of the screen burning my corneas, while I, comfortable in my chair, watched delicious Pornito, on a page with excellent exciting content, which I will mention for your delight later.
That's how I was. Or at least that's how I remember myself.
It was in that environment that I saw her, Sophia, a girl from my same faculty, with a kind presence, always surrounded by a calm that seemed natural, as if she didn't have to try to fit in anywhere because she already belonged everywhere. I never managed to feel entirely comfortable with myself when I was near her. I started noticing her in small fragments: a laugh in the back of the classroom, a hand raised to ask something in class, the way she organized her notes without apparent stress. Over time, those fragments stopped being neutral and started taking up space in my nights, in my silent routine, in that kind of private thoughts that I won't tell you because I'm embarrassed!
When I wasn't around, my mind insisted on returning again and again to the idea of what I never dared to say out loud. That thought ended up becoming an obsessive habit of my nightly imagination, where I tried to resolve in private what in reality I didn't have the courage to face. Every day in class I promised myself the same thing: approach her, talk to her, confess. And every day I found an excuse not to do it.
At the same time, there was Asher... Asher Everett was one of those guys who never needed to introduce themselves twice: they just walked in and the atmosphere seemed to adjust around them. He had a light presence, as if the world responded easily to him, as if everything around him simply fell into place without effort. The kind of guy who, without making much noise, still ends up occupying space in everyone's mind on campus. And me... I hated people like that, just because they have pretty faces, their lives are already sorted out.
His way of moving was calm, confident without being arrogant, and there was something about him (his relaxed posture, the softness of his features, the way people naturally turned toward him) that made him impossible to ignore. That damn son of a bitch had everything I'd always wanted. I don't know how to explain it without sounding ridiculous, but he seemed to exist with less effort.
In class, people talked to him as if he were already part of the center of everything, as if social gravity tilted slightly in his favor without him doing absolutely anything. Why? That shit drove me insane. And then... I'd have to lock myself in my room, jerk off for hours staring at a picture of him, trying to release that frustration.... damn... damn faggot, feminine bastard! I was going to kill him, I was going to make him pay, and I had sworn it!! He didn't even seek attention, yet he still got it!! And me.... I didn't even get the crumbs. It was like watching someone spit out food in front of starving Africans just because they didn't like the taste.
He had short hair, always slightly messy in a way that looked intentional without trying. A delicate face, soft and expressive features, a barely defined jawline, light eyes. And meanwhile, me.... I could only compare myself. His build was slim, but firm, and... well-trained legs, almost like a cyclist's, strong thighs and an ass—N-no! No, nothing, I didn't say anything... whatever. There was something about him that made him especially noticeable to girls, without seeming to try at all. Meanwhile me.... I'm ugly, big lips, acne, chubby cheeks, and on top of that, I'm going bald. Life was unfair to the righteous. I'm a good guy and no one's ever shown the slightest interest in me.
But aside from that... he was hard to define. Not exactly a rival in the classic sense, but beyond the physical or social, Asher was a constant presence that forced me to be aware of all my own insecurities. As if everything I wasn't, he embodied, without even trying, everything that I struggled to achieve. And that bothered me more than I like to admit. It was unfair... but I didn't entirely hate him. Though I couldn't stop comparing myself either.
And that's what bothered me the most... not because he did anything, but because he didn't. I hate to admit it, but I watched him more than I should have. And in that observation, there was an uncomfortable mix of size comparison... E-in every sense! And a persistent feeling of inferiority that I couldn't quite explain.
Anyway...
Sophi, Asher, and I ended up forming a sort of silent "triangle" within the university routine. They talked naturally when they crossed paths on projects or in the cafeteria. I observed more than I participated. And in that observation, something began to build up that I didn't know how to process well, a mix of admiration, frustration, and an absurd need to prove something I didn't even know how to define.
Over time, I started to convince myself that I had to do something. Not big, not dramatic... just enough to stop being invisible in my own story. For weeks, that tension grew inside me. Until one night I decided I was going to break my own pattern. After hours in the library and mentally rehearsing conversations that never happened, I convinced myself that I would go see her, that I would finally say what I had been holding back for so long. I decided I was going to confess.
I walked across campus when it was already late. The lights in the residential buildings were on, and the air had that strange silence of the university when everyone pretends to be asleep, but no one is really at peace. I secretly snuck through the courtyard to the girls' dorm windows, to her room, with the intention of saying what I had been avoiding even thinking about for months, but then, everything fell apart...
As I got closer, I heard a loud noise, a commotion, and heavy, very heavy breathing. I hid under the windowsill, scared, thinking she saw me behind the glass, but no... it was much worse than that.
Moans.
Passionate moans... more than moans, screams, orgasm after orgasm of
>>6910 →
>Name
Cuckyn Mcucker
>Age
21
>Sex
Male
>History
https://youtu.be/sySlY1XKlhM
▶This is how my day has been... I was almost suspended from university, I think besides being a cuck I'm also gay, I lost the girl of my dreams, and I got beaten up pretty badly. Still, things could be a lot worse. Oh wait, I'm falling to my death, so no. How did I get here, you'll ask.My end begins a few days ago, my starting point....
....
My name is Cuckyn, Cuckyn Mcucker.
I'm 24 years old and in my fourth year of Microfusion Engineering at university. I wasn't one of those students who stand out in the hallways or in campus conversations like the GigaChads or Brads, with their Mega Stacys like in the 90s movies. Rather, I was one of those genetic trash losers, but not so much that I was remarkable, like those who smell of semen, because yes, masturbation has a smell. Academically, I wasn't a disaster, but I wasn't brilliant either. I understood the principles of my major, I could solve complex equations and survive long thermal simulation labs, but I struggled with human noise: groups, others' laughter, the ease with which others seemed to exist without thinking too much. My refuge was the nights, the cramped university dorm room, and the blue light of the screen burning my corneas, while I, comfortable in my chair, watched delicious Pornito, on a page with excellent exciting content, which I will mention for your delight later.
That's how I was. Or at least that's how I remember myself.
It was in that environment that I saw her, Sophia, a girl from my same faculty, with a kind presence, always surrounded by a calm that seemed natural, as if she didn't have to try to fit in anywhere because she already belonged everywhere. I never managed to feel entirely comfortable with myself when I was near her. I started noticing her in small fragments: a laugh in the back of the classroom, a hand raised to ask something in class, the way she organized her notes without apparent stress. Over time, those fragments stopped being neutral and started taking up space in my nights, in my silent routine, in that kind of private thoughts that I won't tell you because I'm embarrassed!
When I wasn't around, my mind insisted on returning again and again to the idea of what I never dared to say out loud. That thought ended up becoming an obsessive habit of my nightly imagination, where I tried to resolve in private what in reality I didn't have the courage to face. Every day in class I promised myself the same thing: approach her, talk to her, confess. And every day I found an excuse not to do it.
At the same time, there was Asher... Asher Everett was one of those guys who never needed to introduce themselves twice: they just walked in and the atmosphere seemed to adjust around them. He had a light presence, as if the world responded easily to him, as if everything around him simply fell into place without effort. The kind of guy who, without making much noise, still ends up occupying space in everyone's mind on campus. And me... I hated people like that, just because they have pretty faces, their lives are already sorted out.
His way of moving was calm, confident without being arrogant, and there was something about him (his relaxed posture, the softness of his features, the way people naturally turned toward him) that made him impossible to ignore. That damn son of a bitch had everything I'd always wanted. I don't know how to explain it without sounding ridiculous, but he seemed to exist with less effort.
In class, people talked to him as if he were already part of the center of everything, as if social gravity tilted slightly in his favor without him doing absolutely anything. Why? That shit drove me insane. And then... I'd have to lock myself in my room, jerk off for hours staring at a picture of him, trying to release that frustration.... damn... damn faggot, feminine bastard! I was going to kill him, I was going to make him pay, and I had sworn it!! He didn't even seek attention, yet he still got it!! And me.... I didn't even get the crumbs. It was like watching someone spit out food in front of starving Africans just because they didn't like the taste.
He had short hair, always slightly messy in a way that looked intentional without trying. A delicate face, soft and expressive features, a barely defined jawline, light eyes. And meanwhile, me.... I could only compare myself. His build was slim, but firm, and... well-trained legs, almost like a cyclist's, strong thighs and an ass—N-no! No, nothing, I didn't say anything... whatever. There was something about him that made him especially noticeable to girls, without seeming to try at all. Meanwhile me.... I'm ugly, big lips, acne, chubby cheeks, and on top of that, I'm going bald. Life was unfair to the righteous. I'm a good guy and no one's ever shown the slightest interest in me.
But aside from that... he was hard to define. Not exactly a rival in the classic sense, but beyond the physical or social, Asher was a constant presence that forced me to be aware of all my own insecurities. As if everything I wasn't, he embodied, without even trying, everything that I struggled to achieve. And that bothered me more than I like to admit. It was unfair... but I didn't entirely hate him. Though I couldn't stop comparing myself either.
And that's what bothered me the most... not because he did anything, but because he didn't. I hate to admit it, but I watched him more than I should have. And in that observation, there was an uncomfortable mix of size comparison... E-in every sense! And a persistent feeling of inferiority that I couldn't quite explain.
Anyway...
Sophi, Asher, and I ended up forming a sort of silent "triangle" within the university routine. They talked naturally when they crossed paths on projects or in the cafeteria. I observed more than I participated. And in that observation, something began to build up that I didn't know how to process well, a mix of admiration, frustration, and an absurd need to prove something I didn't even know how to define.
Over time, I started to convince myself that I had to do something. Not big, not dramatic... just enough to stop being invisible in my own story. For weeks, that tension grew inside me. Until one night I decided I was going to break my own pattern. After hours in the library and mentally rehearsing conversations that never happened, I convinced myself that I would go see her, that I would finally say what I had been holding back for so long. I decided I was going to confess.
I walked across campus when it was already late. The lights in the residential buildings were on, and the air had that strange silence of the university when everyone pretends to be asleep, but no one is really at peace. I secretly snuck through the courtyard to the girls' dorm windows, to her room, with the intention of saying what I had been avoiding even thinking about for months, but then, everything fell apart...
As I got closer, I heard a loud noise, a commotion, and heavy, very heavy breathing. I hid under the windowsill, scared, thinking she saw me behind the glass, but no... it was much worse than that.
Moans.
Passionate moans... more than moans, screams, orgasm after orgasm of
>>6911 →
Turns out running out completely naked and cum-covered, from the women's dorm area at two in the morning doesn't make you "the funny guy." It makes you "the dirty rapist underwear thief who's doing something illegal." And that's where the trouble started. Two dorm students intercepted me first. They didn't listen to explanations. In fact, I didn't even get to try. One of them threw me to the ground before I could say "it's not what it looks like," and the next thing I remember is a combination of fists, kicks, clubs, shouts, and a mix of "you degenerate pervert!" and "call the Dean!". When campus security arrived, I already looked more like a punching bag than a person.
That same night I ended up in the university disciplinary office, sitting across from the dean, with a blanket over my shoulders, two swollen eyes, a bleeding nose, a missing tooth, and my dignity officially declared missing in action........... I don't know how, I survived that.... I managed to lie, and I left that meeting with a formal warning and the word "possible suspension" hanging over my head like a guillotine. But I really didn't care about expulsion at all, my student reputation, almost non-existent, was over, now no one would look me in the eye, my life, my future, was over.
No bitches, no life, no nothing.... This morning I decided to jump from the abandoned water tower behind the University. Without thinking... I swung.
...
And well, this is where I was, about to fall into the void to end my existence... until https://youtu.be/fM_-MuPL2ng
▶ Quickly grabbed me by the railing, and I sat down suddenly, breathing heavily, with my heart in my throat. With a trembling hand, I look at my phone... a notification.
<Asher
"😉"
Huh? W-what does that mean? Wait, how did he get my num-.... Shit... the images come to mind. I couldn't jump anymore even if I wanted to... I don't know why. I think the excitement of that night was such that... deep down I wanted more.
>race
Neo Amerimutt
>Stats
<Cock size
13cm long and 14cm thick
<Masturbation duration
5 hours.
<Ejaculation
10ml
<Masturbation record
122
2/2
Turns out running out completely naked and cum-covered, from the women's dorm area at two in the morning doesn't make you "the funny guy." It makes you "the dirty rapist underwear thief who's doing something illegal." And that's where the trouble started. Two dorm students intercepted me first. They didn't listen to explanations. In fact, I didn't even get to try. One of them threw me to the ground before I could say "it's not what it looks like," and the next thing I remember is a combination of fists, kicks, clubs, shouts, and a mix of "you degenerate pervert!" and "call the Dean!". When campus security arrived, I already looked more like a punching bag than a person.
That same night I ended up in the university disciplinary office, sitting across from the dean, with a blanket over my shoulders, two swollen eyes, a bleeding nose, a missing tooth, and my dignity officially declared missing in action........... I don't know how, I survived that.... I managed to lie, and I left that meeting with a formal warning and the word "possible suspension" hanging over my head like a guillotine. But I really didn't care about expulsion at all, my student reputation, almost non-existent, was over, now no one would look me in the eye, my life, my future, was over.
No bitches, no life, no nothing.... This morning I decided to jump from the abandoned water tower behind the University. Without thinking... I swung.
...
And well, this is where I was, about to fall into the void to end my existence... until https://youtu.be/fM_-MuPL2ng
▶ Quickly grabbed me by the railing, and I sat down suddenly, breathing heavily, with my heart in my throat. With a trembling hand, I look at my phone... a notification.<Asher
"😉"
Huh? W-what does that mean? Wait, how did he get my num-.... Shit... the images come to mind. I couldn't jump anymore even if I wanted to... I don't know why. I think the excitement of that night was such that... deep down I wanted more.
>race
Neo Amerimutt
>Stats
<Cock size
13cm long and 14cm thick
<Masturbation duration
5 hours.
<Ejaculation
10ml
<Masturbation record
122
2/2
EPILOGO: EL ENIGMA SIN FIN∘₊✧──────✧₊∘ΕΠΙΛΟΓΟΣ: ΤΟ ΑΤΕΛΕΙΩΤΟ ΑΙΝΙΓΜΑ
Why do you stare
Do you think that I care?
You've been misled
By the thoughts in your head
Your words waste and decay
Nothing you say
Reaches my ears anyway
You never spoke a word of truth
Why do you think
I believe what you said
Few of your words
Ever enter my head
I'm tired of living with freaks?
With tongues in their cheeks
Turning their eyes as they speak
They make me sick and tired
Are you confused
To the point in your mind
Though you're blind
Can't you see you're wrong
Won't you refuse
To be used
Even though you may know
I can see you're wrong
Please!, please!, please open your eyes
Please!, please!, please don't give me lies
I've ruled over the earth
Witnessed my birth
Cried at the sight of a man
And still I don't know who I am
I've seen paupers as kings
Puppets on strings
Dance for the children who stare
You must have seen them everywhere
>Players
-Tamamo: alien shemale with divine tits, the fanservice made real but with good development
-Baloo: rotating ball of fur, tactical and deadly, bear master of disguise and lover of nature
-Charles: depressed writer with severe inspiration problems, for biological reasons he is francophobic
-Lovely Flowers: French schizophrenic, after being thrown (against her will) towards a Greek god she believes she is the owner of destiny
-Shaggy Rogers: "wooorales Shaggy ¿how was the touch? ¿stands, Scrappy, gods? chiiiispas old man this thing really makes you fly"
-Lirola: Olé the most Spanish and very Spanish of the role, you know it, kid, man!
>MAXIMUM SPOTS
let's be honest,.. ALMOST 5 YEARS AND STILL I HAVE NOT FINISHED THIS BUT I ALMOST ACHIEVED IT JAJAJAJ
>Previous threads
-chapter 1: https://hispafiles.ru/r/res/268776.html
-chapter 2: https://hispafiles.ru/r/res/277088.html
-chapter 3: https://hispafiles.ru/r/res/300616.html
-chapter 4 rescued from Hades on mediafire: https://www.mediafire.com/folder/djvmbcl9js7al/capitulo_4_
-chapter 4.5: https://endchan.net/Hisrol/res/3840.html
-chapter 5: https://8chan.moe/hisrol/res/1964.html
-chapter 6: https://8chan.moe/hisrol/res/16306.html
-chapter 7: https://8chan.moe/hisrol/res/35342.html
-chapter 8: https://8chan.moe/hisrol/res/74060.html
Why do you stare
Do you think that I care?
You've been misled
By the thoughts in your head
Your words waste and decay
Nothing you say
Reaches my ears anyway
You never spoke a word of truth
Why do you think
I believe what you said
Few of your words
Ever enter my head
I'm tired of living with freaks?
With tongues in their cheeks
Turning their eyes as they speak
They make me sick and tired
Are you confused
To the point in your mind
Though you're blind
Can't you see you're wrong
Won't you refuse
To be used
Even though you may know
I can see you're wrong
Please!, please!, please open your eyes
Please!, please!, please don't give me lies
I've ruled over the earth
Witnessed my birth
Cried at the sight of a man
And still I don't know who I am
I've seen paupers as kings
Puppets on strings
Dance for the children who stare
You must have seen them everywhere
>Players
-Tamamo: alien shemale with divine tits, the fanservice made real but with good development
-Baloo: rotating ball of fur, tactical and deadly, bear master of disguise and lover of nature
-Charles: depressed writer with severe inspiration problems, for biological reasons he is francophobic
-Lovely Flowers: French schizophrenic, after being thrown (against her will) towards a Greek god she believes she is the owner of destiny
-Shaggy Rogers: "wooorales Shaggy ¿how was the touch? ¿stands, Scrappy, gods? chiiiispas old man this thing really makes you fly"
-Lirola: Olé the most Spanish and very Spanish of the role, you know it, kid, man!
>MAXIMUM SPOTS
let's be honest,.. ALMOST 5 YEARS AND STILL I HAVE NOT FINISHED THIS BUT I ALMOST ACHIEVED IT JAJAJAJ
>Previous threads
-chapter 1: https://hispafiles.ru/r/res/268776.html
-chapter 2: https://hispafiles.ru/r/res/277088.html
-chapter 3: https://hispafiles.ru/r/res/300616.html
-chapter 4 rescued from Hades on mediafire: https://www.mediafire.com/folder/djvmbcl9js7al/capitulo_4_
-chapter 4.5: https://endchan.net/Hisrol/res/3840.html
-chapter 5: https://8chan.moe/hisrol/res/1964.html
-chapter 6: https://8chan.moe/hisrol/res/16306.html
-chapter 7: https://8chan.moe/hisrol/res/35342.html
-chapter 8: https://8chan.moe/hisrol/res/74060.html
>>2634 →
We're still waiting Leshero...but no rush eh!
We're still waiting Leshero...but no rush eh!
>>2635 →
Of course there's urgency, I don't like leaving you without roleplay JZJAJAJAJAAJAJJA I was able to get out of this hellish semester and even though I got a job, I find it easier to roleplay without thinking about uni JJAJAJAJAJ
Of course there's urgency, I don't like leaving you without roleplay JZJAJAJAJAAJAJJA I was able to get out of this hellish semester and even though I got a job, I find it easier to roleplay without thinking about uni JJAJAJAJAJ
In Japan, there was a strange phenomenon. People could die spontaneously. Average people lived in fear of burning, being torn apart, or disappearing and never being seen again.
But others know this wasn't a simple matter of chance... But of curses. Beings born from humanity's negative emotions, and who wreak havoc.
To keep the curses at bay, and defend humanity, sorcerers exist. People capable of controlling their cursed energy to eliminate these evil spirits.
That's where you come in.
You are going to train to be a sorcerer. At the sorcerer school.
This is the story... of how you became a true jujutsu sorcerer.
But others know this wasn't a simple matter of chance... But of curses. Beings born from humanity's negative emotions, and who wreak havoc.
To keep the curses at bay, and defend humanity, sorcerers exist. People capable of controlling their cursed energy to eliminate these evil spirits.
That's where you come in.
You are going to train to be a sorcerer. At the sorcerer school.
This is the story... of how you became a true jujutsu sorcerer.
>>6846 →
:- Selective memory? Haha! Oh poor you, they must have hit you really hard for you not to even remember the fight.
The guy who doesn't know how to dodge is now also the guy who doesn't know how to remember. The fight didn't last even 5 minutes and yet his fish memory isn't enough to remember the moment when Takahiro drew the curse towards himself to hit her head on. Listening to this guy trying to justify his own uselessness is very funny to Takahiro.
:- Bark as much as you want, it's not like a mixed breed dog can do anything else.
He shrugs, sits down, and lets the piñata's insults pass. Takahiro didn't say it directly, but it's true that he is the son of cousins. Something that is true for the majority of clans that want to maintain the "purity" of their cursed techniques. Without giving it more attention, he ignores it along with the rest until they arrived at the temple.
:- Of course you were going to go out to defend the other useless one. It doesn't matter what his ritual does, if all he knows how to do is hide behind others then he has nothing to do here. >>6639 → So what are you waiting for? Stop hiding behind your boyfriend and speak for yourself.
If Takahiro noticed that the melody came from Rammstein or not, it wasn't the issue. In his view, the real problem was the fact that this one remained locked inside the train while the others (except Takahiro) fought for their lives. Coward tactics like that didn't even deserve to be considered magic. Trying to provoke him, Takahiro stood in front of Rammstein and demanded an explanation in front of everyone.
>>6852 →
:- So that's what it's about, well then if that's what you want next time I'll let the rest die without me intervening.
Crossing his arms, Takahiro just nodded and looked away. The old man's response wasn't what he expected, but it was certainly a response. If he had known they were doing things the old way, he would have let everyone deal with it as they could.
:- No, I don't see any teacher here. So if you're so kind, why don't you go and find her pequ- !Agh! !Ayayay! !Let go!
Continuing with his confrontational attitude, Takahiro tried to keep annoying the supposed teacher. However, this attempt was interrupted by the sudden pull that made him lean to the side to avoid having his ear torn off. He whines like a little kid until they let go and starts rubbing it to reduce the burning.
:- !Blegh! I'll see what you get when I find your father.
He returns the tongue sticking out and once again treats her like a child. He'll need much more than a simple ear tug for her to recognize him as her teacher.
>>6853 →
:- Of course, of course, a class. Hopefully this time we meet our real teacher and all.
Reluctantly accepts to follow Moco along with the rest of the students. At least the inside of the school looked like a school. With everything that happened, he expected them to tell him the dorms would be outdoors or some stupid thing like that. Fortunately, that's not the case and also they are individual, so he won't have to put up with any of the other idiots.
:- Wow, they are in a hurry to run out of students... Anyway, I already told the old man before that I don't intend to help them. So from now on, everyone is on their own. I'll come back when they finish praying for their lives.
As expected, the supposed teacher has nothing to teach. If that's the case, then he also has no reason to stand here doing nothing. After complaining and saying he doesn't intend to help anyone, Takahiro left. He'll go on the mission when he wants, for now he prefers to spend some time watching the fish or checking out his dormitory.
:- Selective memory? Haha! Oh poor you, they must have hit you really hard for you not to even remember the fight.
The guy who doesn't know how to dodge is now also the guy who doesn't know how to remember. The fight didn't last even 5 minutes and yet his fish memory isn't enough to remember the moment when Takahiro drew the curse towards himself to hit her head on. Listening to this guy trying to justify his own uselessness is very funny to Takahiro.
:- Bark as much as you want, it's not like a mixed breed dog can do anything else.
He shrugs, sits down, and lets the piñata's insults pass. Takahiro didn't say it directly, but it's true that he is the son of cousins. Something that is true for the majority of clans that want to maintain the "purity" of their cursed techniques. Without giving it more attention, he ignores it along with the rest until they arrived at the temple.
:- Of course you were going to go out to defend the other useless one. It doesn't matter what his ritual does, if all he knows how to do is hide behind others then he has nothing to do here. >>6639 → So what are you waiting for? Stop hiding behind your boyfriend and speak for yourself.
If Takahiro noticed that the melody came from Rammstein or not, it wasn't the issue. In his view, the real problem was the fact that this one remained locked inside the train while the others (except Takahiro) fought for their lives. Coward tactics like that didn't even deserve to be considered magic. Trying to provoke him, Takahiro stood in front of Rammstein and demanded an explanation in front of everyone.
>>6852 →
:- So that's what it's about, well then if that's what you want next time I'll let the rest die without me intervening.
Crossing his arms, Takahiro just nodded and looked away. The old man's response wasn't what he expected, but it was certainly a response. If he had known they were doing things the old way, he would have let everyone deal with it as they could.
:- No, I don't see any teacher here. So if you're so kind, why don't you go and find her pequ- !Agh! !Ayayay! !Let go!
Continuing with his confrontational attitude, Takahiro tried to keep annoying the supposed teacher. However, this attempt was interrupted by the sudden pull that made him lean to the side to avoid having his ear torn off. He whines like a little kid until they let go and starts rubbing it to reduce the burning.
:- !Blegh! I'll see what you get when I find your father.
He returns the tongue sticking out and once again treats her like a child. He'll need much more than a simple ear tug for her to recognize him as her teacher.
>>6853 →
:- Of course, of course, a class. Hopefully this time we meet our real teacher and all.
Reluctantly accepts to follow Moco along with the rest of the students. At least the inside of the school looked like a school. With everything that happened, he expected them to tell him the dorms would be outdoors or some stupid thing like that. Fortunately, that's not the case and also they are individual, so he won't have to put up with any of the other idiots.
:- Wow, they are in a hurry to run out of students... Anyway, I already told the old man before that I don't intend to help them. So from now on, everyone is on their own. I'll come back when they finish praying for their lives.
As expected, the supposed teacher has nothing to teach. If that's the case, then he also has no reason to stand here doing nothing. After complaining and saying he doesn't intend to help anyone, Takahiro left. He'll go on the mission when he wants, for now he prefers to spend some time watching the fish or checking out his dormitory.
>>6852 →
well, the fact that my powers depend on technology is what brought me here
>I'm liking the teacher quite a bit
>it seems the blue-haired girl and I aren't the only short ones here anymore
>although her name is a bit weird...
>at least it's not Loco Moco
>that reminds me I always wanted to go to Hawaii...
>but it's not the time to fantasize about having a vacation
>classes just started, after all
>>6853 →
I can fix myself, teacher, but thank you
>I decide to go look for my dorm
>I'm going to need to have my phone charged in case I need to use my technique again
>maybe later I'll go see about the uniform...
>if it doesn't end up being too big on me
well, the fact that my powers depend on technology is what brought me here
>I'm liking the teacher quite a bit
>it seems the blue-haired girl and I aren't the only short ones here anymore
>although her name is a bit weird...
>at least it's not Loco Moco
>that reminds me I always wanted to go to Hawaii...
>but it's not the time to fantasize about having a vacation
>classes just started, after all
>>6853 →
I can fix myself, teacher, but thank you
>I decide to go look for my dorm
>I'm going to need to have my phone charged in case I need to use my technique again
>maybe later I'll go see about the uniform...
>if it doesn't end up being too big on me
>>6851 →
"Professor Chumimaru, if you're tired, I can help you with your insomnia" She told the professor as soon as she saw him having trouble concentrating. Amara was now like that, trying to help whenever someone could, because that's what she had promised the director. The professor seemed like someone hard to impress. But she tried. "Look"
Amara picked up a small feather that had fallen on the path, and from among her magical tools, she took out a tiny bottle that had a white, viscous fluid with which she could cover the small feather. Using the sap from a sleepy tree as a catalyst, Amara could summon Paralyze, which was what she was trying to do. Her cursed energy immediately traveled to a flying bird that fell into the pond.
"It's the equivalent of propofol" She said, repeating what a famous African once said. And without more, she went to rescue the bird from the pond, and to make it a small bed on a water lily. She acted proudly, although because of it, she had already gotten her sleeves, shoes, and part of her legs wet. Saving others implies sacrifices.
>>5990 →
"Hey, partner Junzo" She called him, without an apparent reason. Amara stayed looking at her partner for a few seconds, with an unreadable expression. Was Junzo always muscular? If the inflated state doesn't go away with a pinprick, eventually it will go away when he rests, for example. What if someone attacks him while he sleeps, and he inflates again? So many doubts. "Let's go together. Japanese-style" She said, several seconds later. Amara was going to follow him until he lowered his guard. In a way, it was like the African documentaries where they followed the animals to know what they did.
"Professor Chumimaru, if you're tired, I can help you with your insomnia" She told the professor as soon as she saw him having trouble concentrating. Amara was now like that, trying to help whenever someone could, because that's what she had promised the director. The professor seemed like someone hard to impress. But she tried. "Look"
Amara picked up a small feather that had fallen on the path, and from among her magical tools, she took out a tiny bottle that had a white, viscous fluid with which she could cover the small feather. Using the sap from a sleepy tree as a catalyst, Amara could summon Paralyze, which was what she was trying to do. Her cursed energy immediately traveled to a flying bird that fell into the pond.
"It's the equivalent of propofol" She said, repeating what a famous African once said. And without more, she went to rescue the bird from the pond, and to make it a small bed on a water lily. She acted proudly, although because of it, she had already gotten her sleeves, shoes, and part of her legs wet. Saving others implies sacrifices.
>>5990 →
"Hey, partner Junzo" She called him, without an apparent reason. Amara stayed looking at her partner for a few seconds, with an unreadable expression. Was Junzo always muscular? If the inflated state doesn't go away with a pinprick, eventually it will go away when he rests, for example. What if someone attacks him while he sleeps, and he inflates again? So many doubts. "Let's go together. Japanese-style" She said, several seconds later. Amara was going to follow him until he lowered his guard. In a way, it was like the African documentaries where they followed the animals to know what they did.
50 years ago, a strange meteorite fell into the pacific, and from its remains emerged a very mysterious place known as the shadowy island. From this island, strange floating rocks emerge almost daily, carrying giant monsters within them that have not ceased to torment humanity relentlessly
''But not all is lost, the meteorite's energy seems to have awakened something, a hidden potential in the girls and teenagers of the earth, which usually awakens when confronting giant monsters. Only a few have managed to awaken this power... the power to become magical girls known as Celestial Heralds, the champions of earth'
>name
>appearance
>age (8-19 years old if you are a novice, you can only be older if you are a veteran)
>background
>stats
You have 2 base points and 10 points to distribute
Strength:
increases the faces of your damage multiplier die
Defense:
determines your HP
HP = Defense x10 +100
Agility:
Determines how many times you can attack per turn, one attack per point.
Combat system:
you attack as many times as you have agility. For each attack, you roll 1d20 for damage, a multiplier die with as many faces as strength points you have, and 1d2 for accuracy. If the accuracy die rolls 1, the attack fails, if it rolls 2, it hits. The damage is the result of your damage die multiplied by the multiplier.
for example, a character with 4 strength and 3 agility would roll:
1d20 = 6 1d4 = 2 1d2 = 2
1d20 = 15 1d4 = 3 1d2 = 2
1d20 = 12 1d4 = 2 1d2 = 1
you can combine the faces of your damage and multiplier dice to roll more powerful attacks, but you run the risk of missing the attack. For example, the previous character could roll:
1d60 = 27 1d12 = 8 1d2 = 1
you can also pay with one of your attacks so that another can hit guaranteed, but you can only do this with one attack per turn, and if the attack is the sum of several, you must pay the same number of attacks you used to make it. For example, a character with 8 agility and 2 strength could do this:
1d80 = 58 1d8 = 3, guaranteed hit.
''But not all is lost, the meteorite's energy seems to have awakened something, a hidden potential in the girls and teenagers of the earth, which usually awakens when confronting giant monsters. Only a few have managed to awaken this power... the power to become magical girls known as Celestial Heralds, the champions of earth'
>name
>appearance
>age (8-19 years old if you are a novice, you can only be older if you are a veteran)
>background
>stats
You have 2 base points and 10 points to distribute
Strength:
increases the faces of your damage multiplier die
Defense:
determines your HP
HP = Defense x10 +100
Agility:
Determines how many times you can attack per turn, one attack per point.
Combat system:
you attack as many times as you have agility. For each attack, you roll 1d20 for damage, a multiplier die with as many faces as strength points you have, and 1d2 for accuracy. If the accuracy die rolls 1, the attack fails, if it rolls 2, it hits. The damage is the result of your damage die multiplied by the multiplier.
for example, a character with 4 strength and 3 agility would roll:
1d20 = 6 1d4 = 2 1d2 = 2
1d20 = 15 1d4 = 3 1d2 = 2
1d20 = 12 1d4 = 2 1d2 = 1
you can combine the faces of your damage and multiplier dice to roll more powerful attacks, but you run the risk of missing the attack. For example, the previous character could roll:
1d60 = 27 1d12 = 8 1d2 = 1
you can also pay with one of your attacks so that another can hit guaranteed, but you can only do this with one attack per turn, and if the attack is the sum of several, you must pay the same number of attacks you used to make it. For example, a character with 8 agility and 2 strength could do this:
1d80 = 58 1d8 = 3, guaranteed hit.
>>6711 →
>4:32 PM
>Washington D.C.
>your father keeps your existence a secret
>the reasons are very obvious
>at least you're less of a problem than that son of Elon Musk...
>but at least you and your mother have your own house and amenities
>they live well to keep your mother quiet
>unfortunately, she is sick with hantavirus after being near an illegal immigrant
>that's why she's also in quarantine, in her room
>but at least the day is peaceful
>it's been a while since you last saw one of those floating rocks
>luckily, that time it was heading towards Delaware...
>but one of those could come here at any moment
>4:32 PM
>Washington D.C.
>your father keeps your existence a secret
>the reasons are very obvious
>at least you're less of a problem than that son of Elon Musk...
>but at least you and your mother have your own house and amenities
>they live well to keep your mother quiet
>unfortunately, she is sick with hantavirus after being near an illegal immigrant
>that's why she's also in quarantine, in her room
>but at least the day is peaceful
>it's been a while since you last saw one of those floating rocks
>luckily, that time it was heading towards Delaware...
>but one of those could come here at any moment
>>6712 →
>I was sitting on the sofa with my phone in one hand and a drink in the other.
>I let out a sigh as I look out the window of the house.
"Washington is too boring when there are no monsters..."
>I mutter to myself before scrolling through the news. As always, not a single mention of me. My father makes sure of that.
>For a moment I look towards the hallway that leads to my mother's room.
"You better get well soon..."
>I say in a low voice, although I know she probably can't hear me from there.
>I turn my gaze back to the sky. Since the last floating rock, everything has been strangely quiet. Too quiet.
>And when one of those things shows up here, I guess I'll have to take care of it.
>I smile with a certain arrogance and rest my chin on my hand.
"After all, someone has to save the country while the adults are busy with their own corruption"
>I was sitting on the sofa with my phone in one hand and a drink in the other.
>I let out a sigh as I look out the window of the house.
"Washington is too boring when there are no monsters..."
>I mutter to myself before scrolling through the news. As always, not a single mention of me. My father makes sure of that.
>For a moment I look towards the hallway that leads to my mother's room.
"You better get well soon..."
>I say in a low voice, although I know she probably can't hear me from there.
>I turn my gaze back to the sky. Since the last floating rock, everything has been strangely quiet. Too quiet.
>And when one of those things shows up here, I guess I'll have to take care of it.
>I smile with a certain arrogance and rest my chin on my hand.
"After all, someone has to save the country while the adults are busy with their own corruption"
>>6713 →
>while you yearn to save the world that adults are destroying, you hear explosions, missile impacts
>a giant rock is approaching
>and this time it's not coming from pazo
>the rock sheds its crust into the air
>a piece of it falls right on your house
>falling right next to you
>luckily, your mother's room is intact
>the monster that was inside the rock then approaches you
>it somehow starts absorbing the electricity from the entire city
>they shoot it with more missiles, but they do nothing
>your house shakes a little
>but your mother is still safe
>however, a helicopter arrives to try to evacuate them
>maybe your father sent it
>one would think he would let them die as collateral damage from the monster
>or maybe he'll be playing 4D chess like his supporters say?
>whatever the case, they are already rescuing your mother
>and before the monster tries to attack you, you feel a power surge within you
>one of the military tries to call you
>military
GET IN, QUICK!
>will you try to keep thinking about the power you feel, or will you board the helicopter before it gets shot down?
>while you yearn to save the world that adults are destroying, you hear explosions, missile impacts
>a giant rock is approaching
>and this time it's not coming from pazo
>the rock sheds its crust into the air
>a piece of it falls right on your house
>falling right next to you
>luckily, your mother's room is intact
>the monster that was inside the rock then approaches you
>it somehow starts absorbing the electricity from the entire city
>they shoot it with more missiles, but they do nothing
>your house shakes a little
>but your mother is still safe
>however, a helicopter arrives to try to evacuate them
>maybe your father sent it
>one would think he would let them die as collateral damage from the monster
>or maybe he'll be playing 4D chess like his supporters say?
>whatever the case, they are already rescuing your mother
>and before the monster tries to attack you, you feel a power surge within you
>one of the military tries to call you
>military
GET IN, QUICK!
>will you try to keep thinking about the power you feel, or will you board the helicopter before it gets shot down?
⋯
Battle? ERP? Action? Odiseas? Here is the testing field where you can practice as you like or share literary material of various kinds, if desired, other anons can give feedback by proposing scenarios or situations which you have to roleplay or describe in exchange for an opinion or critical look at your prose and interpretation.
Previous thread files
Literature club 1
https://web.archive.org/web/20220622142144/https://8chan.moe/hisrol/res/5425.html
Literature club 2
https://archive.ph/k0ow5
Literature club 3 https://archive.ph/KGUkM
Literature club 4
https://archive.ph/aXGVB
The last edition we had the MEGAODISEA HISROL for more events like that.
Previous thread files
Literature club 1
https://web.archive.org/web/20220622142144/https://8chan.moe/hisrol/res/5425.html
Literature club 2
https://archive.ph/k0ow5
Literature club 3 https://archive.ph/KGUkM
Literature club 4
https://archive.ph/aXGVB
The last edition we had the MEGAODISEA HISROL for more events like that.
The other day I saw how famous those "narrating stories" videos from DnD, also from 4chan, etc. were, and I started thinking that... Odysseys have already been made here, or the MEGAODYSSEY /Hisrol/ (>>121188).
And I asked myself... Why not turn it into Loquendo, edit it a little (background music, and some sound effects at most....) And upload it to the chon's channel???
I mean, reading it is very entertaining, each odyssey is different, and they don't shove 8,000,000 characters of a thread down your throat, but rather it's told in a narrated way.
I don't know if it's a bad idea, I would watch it, and I saw that it was relatively "in fashion".
And I asked myself... Why not turn it into Loquendo, edit it a little (background music, and some sound effects at most....) And upload it to the chon's channel???
I mean, reading it is very entertaining, each odyssey is different, and they don't shove 8,000,000 characters of a thread down your throat, but rather it's told in a narrated way.
I don't know if it's a bad idea, I would watch it, and I saw that it was relatively "in fashion".
>>4480 →
Why does it seem like OP hates class B?
Why does it seem like OP hates class B?
>>4490 →
What a great idea anon! When do you start editing the videos?
>uploaded to chon's channel
Is that nigger still alive?
What a great idea anon! When do you start editing the videos?
>uploaded to chon's channel
Is that nigger still alive?
The first Great Collapse. 7 years ago, in downtown New York City, a portal opened connecting to another world, the realm of the Beyond. After an intense flash, the city was plunged into darkness. In one night, New York was engulfed, destroyed, and rebuilt by the effects of the catastrophic connection to the other world.
From that other world emerged the beings of the Beyond, the "másallíneos," creatures mostly of indescribable origin and aberrant appearance. A massive number of them invaded the newly taken New York, many "másallíneos" transformed the city to their will, others obeyed their shapeless nature and generated violence, and finally, a large number survived the chaotic state that was the Jerusalem Plot.
The Jerusalem Plot was the name given to New York City, once the portal's fog was contained within a barrier. That limiter was born from the portal itself and contained the expansion of the other world onto Earth. It was in this environment that, day after day, newly conceived demons emerged from the contact between the worlds, a type of all-powerful and sentient existence that, after grouping together, became known as the Thirteen Kings. Thus, for two months, through the actions of the self-proclaimed rulers and the active protection of an enormous divine curse in the form of a maritime entity, the American government lost control over one of its most important cities.
Demigods, powerful beings born from the portal of the Beyond, pressured from the interior and exterior of the barrier to create an opening for dialogue in the Jerusalem Plot. Shortly after those two months of uncertainty surrounding all of New York, an official contact was made between the American Nation and the Abstract Realm of the Beyond, a conciliation. Under the Chrysler-Galadona treaty, the conflict with the forces of the incomprehensible was resolved, the sovereignty of the Thirteen Kings was dismissed, the shared state of New Jerusalem was created, and the foundations were laid for "másallíneo" and human coexistence. The barrier dissolved, forming a vortex of amalgamated fog, thus the name New Jerusalem was born.
The city of New Jerusalem originated as a combination of characteristics between the human world and the Beyond. Half of the humans engulfed by the portal reappeared miraculously in the new city, while the other half would appear periodically 3 years later. The beings of the Beyond assimilated the human way of life in the city as a rule to ensure their stay. In this way, a strange daily life emerged involving humans and monsters beyond comprehension. By integrating into the new nation, the "másallíneos" eventually gained citizenship rights and a moderately decent reputation.
Every day, and in cooperation with the new and abstract intelligent beings, the human world recovered from that great imbalance. Although within New Jerusalem, the forces of the chaotic and the absurd remained active, attacking the city in unexpected and desperate ways. Even so, entities from the human esoteric world such as the Spiritual League and other organizations managed to keep the madness of the other world at bay and provided stability to the fantastic and grotesque city for three years. This was until, after a succession of unfortunate events, such as an arcane threatening factor, an overload of effort on human hope, the release of various unknowable powers from the Beyond, and a thirst for demonic self-discovery, a massive and catastrophic second Great Collapse was gestated almost by pure chance.
The second Great Collapse. 4 years ago, south of Manhattan Island, on the artificial island Pandora, known as the base of the Asylum Pandorum prison, a portal to a new dimension opened. Distinct from the Beyond and the human world in its entirety, the dimension with which contact was made was of such an incompatible degree that, a millionth of a second after the connection to the other world was established, the portal closed, unleashing an energy charge so potent that it destabilized the mystical infrastructure of New Jerusalem.
Capable of foreseeing the future, the invisible curse at the edge of the city, a high-degree enigma from the Beyond, used the force of a divine contract to keep the imminent deformation at bay, but it was not enough. For 20 seconds, the city was enveloped in complete calm, until in an instant, all of New Jerusalem was divided in two. Each part of New Jerusalem immediately replicated, thus giving the vision of two parallel cities, seen as through the edge of a mirror. That scenario was witnessed for only a few seconds until the city underwent the same partitioning phenomenon again and again, at increasingly smaller intervals of time. Exponentially, fractal chaos took over the city, duplicating dimensions, dividing time, and brushing against the abstract limits of what is permissible in reality.
The emergency gave rise to a new type of barrier against the mystical fog, of infinite extent, total light absorption, and intangible. This and other feats by the Spiritual League and other organizations, such as rescuing the vast majority of living creatures in New Jerusalem, provided relief in recovering the city or preventing a greater tragedy that would this time fall upon the world. Even so, it was during this short period of infinite barriers that the city was considered lost. Fractional Nod, an abstract wasteland of wandering march that only concentrated disaster.
Miraculously, almost a month after the Second Collapse, the fundamental constants returned to their initial values and the city was rebuilt. This time giving rise to the Sacred Land of Nod, a double parallel city composed of Nod Thrillfair and Nod Issel-Sarexuglactrella. The new city encompasses duality and the indistinct within the identical. It is from this land that the world still feels the effects of chaos, for better or for worse, recovering millions of humans, or having to deal with infinite races from Others, other worlds, and time.
From that other world emerged the beings of the Beyond, the "másallíneos," creatures mostly of indescribable origin and aberrant appearance. A massive number of them invaded the newly taken New York, many "másallíneos" transformed the city to their will, others obeyed their shapeless nature and generated violence, and finally, a large number survived the chaotic state that was the Jerusalem Plot.
The Jerusalem Plot was the name given to New York City, once the portal's fog was contained within a barrier. That limiter was born from the portal itself and contained the expansion of the other world onto Earth. It was in this environment that, day after day, newly conceived demons emerged from the contact between the worlds, a type of all-powerful and sentient existence that, after grouping together, became known as the Thirteen Kings. Thus, for two months, through the actions of the self-proclaimed rulers and the active protection of an enormous divine curse in the form of a maritime entity, the American government lost control over one of its most important cities.
Demigods, powerful beings born from the portal of the Beyond, pressured from the interior and exterior of the barrier to create an opening for dialogue in the Jerusalem Plot. Shortly after those two months of uncertainty surrounding all of New York, an official contact was made between the American Nation and the Abstract Realm of the Beyond, a conciliation. Under the Chrysler-Galadona treaty, the conflict with the forces of the incomprehensible was resolved, the sovereignty of the Thirteen Kings was dismissed, the shared state of New Jerusalem was created, and the foundations were laid for "másallíneo" and human coexistence. The barrier dissolved, forming a vortex of amalgamated fog, thus the name New Jerusalem was born.
The city of New Jerusalem originated as a combination of characteristics between the human world and the Beyond. Half of the humans engulfed by the portal reappeared miraculously in the new city, while the other half would appear periodically 3 years later. The beings of the Beyond assimilated the human way of life in the city as a rule to ensure their stay. In this way, a strange daily life emerged involving humans and monsters beyond comprehension. By integrating into the new nation, the "másallíneos" eventually gained citizenship rights and a moderately decent reputation.
Every day, and in cooperation with the new and abstract intelligent beings, the human world recovered from that great imbalance. Although within New Jerusalem, the forces of the chaotic and the absurd remained active, attacking the city in unexpected and desperate ways. Even so, entities from the human esoteric world such as the Spiritual League and other organizations managed to keep the madness of the other world at bay and provided stability to the fantastic and grotesque city for three years. This was until, after a succession of unfortunate events, such as an arcane threatening factor, an overload of effort on human hope, the release of various unknowable powers from the Beyond, and a thirst for demonic self-discovery, a massive and catastrophic second Great Collapse was gestated almost by pure chance.
The second Great Collapse. 4 years ago, south of Manhattan Island, on the artificial island Pandora, known as the base of the Asylum Pandorum prison, a portal to a new dimension opened. Distinct from the Beyond and the human world in its entirety, the dimension with which contact was made was of such an incompatible degree that, a millionth of a second after the connection to the other world was established, the portal closed, unleashing an energy charge so potent that it destabilized the mystical infrastructure of New Jerusalem.
Capable of foreseeing the future, the invisible curse at the edge of the city, a high-degree enigma from the Beyond, used the force of a divine contract to keep the imminent deformation at bay, but it was not enough. For 20 seconds, the city was enveloped in complete calm, until in an instant, all of New Jerusalem was divided in two. Each part of New Jerusalem immediately replicated, thus giving the vision of two parallel cities, seen as through the edge of a mirror. That scenario was witnessed for only a few seconds until the city underwent the same partitioning phenomenon again and again, at increasingly smaller intervals of time. Exponentially, fractal chaos took over the city, duplicating dimensions, dividing time, and brushing against the abstract limits of what is permissible in reality.
The emergency gave rise to a new type of barrier against the mystical fog, of infinite extent, total light absorption, and intangible. This and other feats by the Spiritual League and other organizations, such as rescuing the vast majority of living creatures in New Jerusalem, provided relief in recovering the city or preventing a greater tragedy that would this time fall upon the world. Even so, it was during this short period of infinite barriers that the city was considered lost. Fractional Nod, an abstract wasteland of wandering march that only concentrated disaster.
Miraculously, almost a month after the Second Collapse, the fundamental constants returned to their initial values and the city was rebuilt. This time giving rise to the Sacred Land of Nod, a double parallel city composed of Nod Thrillfair and Nod Issel-Sarexuglactrella. The new city encompasses duality and the indistinct within the identical. It is from this land that the world still feels the effects of chaos, for better or for worse, recovering millions of humans, or having to deal with infinite races from Others, other worlds, and time.
>>1486 →
>Sally's lifeless arms couldn't properly adjust to the descent of her torso, because after piercing through them, Hannah had destroyed a significant portion of her supporting muscles. A metallic formation of blood immediately knocked Hannah to the ground. It was a shield hard enough to recklessly bend Hannah's superhuman body with a single, powerful impact. It was Mercy, who had finally reacted to Hannah's psychotic actions and swiftly subdued her. But no matter how reinforced her shield was or how hard she slammed Hannah into the ground, cracking the floor and walls instantly upon impact, her weapon would never be strong enough to block even remotely one of Hannah's cuts or her divine arsenal.
(Mercy) WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! WHY, HANNAH?! WHY THE HELL DID YOU DO THAT?! HANNAH!!! Hannah...-! Oh God... Ah... Aa-ah... No way...
(Hannah) God... have mercy on me. Oh, Lord. Forgive me... Forgive me, Lord. I feel such despair right now... Mercy.
>Hannah Cade Andronicus murdered Sally on a Sunday during a scheduled visit, mere hours after the complete disappearance of Doxia and Bagdeleyne Von Batenkaitos in Nod. She made no attempt to rise, though she could have defeated Mercy instantly using her abilities; instead, Hannah collapsed to the floor, weeping and lamenting. She begged God over and over again, in a way that made you remember how she originally obtained her weapon through one of the many visions you accessed many hours ago. You didn't have to watch any longer as Mercy struggled to process what had just happened—because the moment Hannah surrendered herself to her God, you blinked once more, out of this repeatable scene.
(...)
(Jack) PAQUITO?! I can't believe it's you! And here, in Boston!
>You returned to the hours before Hannah arrived at the hospital, during the time she met with Jack in Boston. The hole wasn't growing larger with each visit, but it clearly seemed that its depth and the number of victims down there had only increased. Hannah and Jack's conversation must have ended; she was slightly distanced from him, yet still watching the strangely unforeseen arrival of an alien whom Jack immediately recognized as his best friend from the past. It wasn't just impossible that this wasn't the Paquito from his story—this being seemed outright fake, and everything around Jack felt highly unbelievable. Witnessing such nonsense, even as a third-party observer, right after experiencing such an intense vision as the murder of an innocent girl by Hannah, felt like a cruel joke. You could almost lose yourself, forget that you possess a body capable of traveling throughout Boston or even beyond it into Nod to uncover more about Hannah or the Vatican—but what brought you back to reality was the presence of a third person in this entire conversation. Excluding Paquito, there was a visitor you'd never seen before in any of these fragmented stories from Hannah's life, appearing precisely when she put on an immaculate, regal suit and began acting far more frivolously than usual. That vision of Hannah wasn't merely sharing space with the other Hannah; judging by how her cloak behaved, she could phase through the floor and possessed the same level of intangibility as you across the repetition of these situations. The first thing this Hannah did upon noticing your presence—once she convinced herself she needed to speak to you—was apologize for your own decision.
(Hannah*) I'm sorry, but all the energy in this universe isn't all the energy in the human world, nor is it all the energy in the Afterlife Realm, and certainly not even close to all the energy from the place you originally came from. Maybe, if you had absorbed all of it, you could've achieved something far more transcendent than me. But right now, the omnipotence you possess is exactly the same omnipotence I possess—one bound to the infinite iteration of this world.
>She precisely defines what you've been experiencing over the last 6 hours: a semi-random appearance of events, from which you can find little to no information to free yourself from this state of observation. Based on how Hannah describes herself, you can figure out a couple of things. She is just like you in this mode of witnessing the past—unable to interfere or make her voice heard anywhere except your ears. Likewise, she's so tied to Hannah that she remains close to her, allowing the succession of random events to continue. You can't harm her in any way—she passes through you and you through her whenever you try to interact more with the objects around you. However, trying to touch this well-dressed Hannah should be far less complicated than trying to touch Paquito or somehow hit Hayes. Unlike you, who can move at inhuman speeds and directions just by thinking, the divine Hannah projected near you does nothing but passively orbit the nun Hannah currently in the alien's situation.
(Jack) Boston, Boston! Sorry, I can't stop saying it. Paquito, you have no idea how long I've waited for your return! Ever since I was a kid... I knew one day we'd have our adventures again, just like in the old days.
(Paquito) Yeah, it's me, Jack. Now give me the access code to Gemini's bank funds. I'll make sure to run your agency with zero transparency, just like you always wanted.
(Jack) Absolutely. You know I'd do anything for a friend.
>Sally's lifeless arms couldn't properly adjust to the descent of her torso, because after piercing through them, Hannah had destroyed a significant portion of her supporting muscles. A metallic formation of blood immediately knocked Hannah to the ground. It was a shield hard enough to recklessly bend Hannah's superhuman body with a single, powerful impact. It was Mercy, who had finally reacted to Hannah's psychotic actions and swiftly subdued her. But no matter how reinforced her shield was or how hard she slammed Hannah into the ground, cracking the floor and walls instantly upon impact, her weapon would never be strong enough to block even remotely one of Hannah's cuts or her divine arsenal.
(Mercy) WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! WHY, HANNAH?! WHY THE HELL DID YOU DO THAT?! HANNAH!!! Hannah...-! Oh God... Ah... Aa-ah... No way...
(Hannah) God... have mercy on me. Oh, Lord. Forgive me... Forgive me, Lord. I feel such despair right now... Mercy.
>Hannah Cade Andronicus murdered Sally on a Sunday during a scheduled visit, mere hours after the complete disappearance of Doxia and Bagdeleyne Von Batenkaitos in Nod. She made no attempt to rise, though she could have defeated Mercy instantly using her abilities; instead, Hannah collapsed to the floor, weeping and lamenting. She begged God over and over again, in a way that made you remember how she originally obtained her weapon through one of the many visions you accessed many hours ago. You didn't have to watch any longer as Mercy struggled to process what had just happened—because the moment Hannah surrendered herself to her God, you blinked once more, out of this repeatable scene.
(...)
(Jack) PAQUITO?! I can't believe it's you! And here, in Boston!
>You returned to the hours before Hannah arrived at the hospital, during the time she met with Jack in Boston. The hole wasn't growing larger with each visit, but it clearly seemed that its depth and the number of victims down there had only increased. Hannah and Jack's conversation must have ended; she was slightly distanced from him, yet still watching the strangely unforeseen arrival of an alien whom Jack immediately recognized as his best friend from the past. It wasn't just impossible that this wasn't the Paquito from his story—this being seemed outright fake, and everything around Jack felt highly unbelievable. Witnessing such nonsense, even as a third-party observer, right after experiencing such an intense vision as the murder of an innocent girl by Hannah, felt like a cruel joke. You could almost lose yourself, forget that you possess a body capable of traveling throughout Boston or even beyond it into Nod to uncover more about Hannah or the Vatican—but what brought you back to reality was the presence of a third person in this entire conversation. Excluding Paquito, there was a visitor you'd never seen before in any of these fragmented stories from Hannah's life, appearing precisely when she put on an immaculate, regal suit and began acting far more frivolously than usual. That vision of Hannah wasn't merely sharing space with the other Hannah; judging by how her cloak behaved, she could phase through the floor and possessed the same level of intangibility as you across the repetition of these situations. The first thing this Hannah did upon noticing your presence—once she convinced herself she needed to speak to you—was apologize for your own decision.
(Hannah*) I'm sorry, but all the energy in this universe isn't all the energy in the human world, nor is it all the energy in the Afterlife Realm, and certainly not even close to all the energy from the place you originally came from. Maybe, if you had absorbed all of it, you could've achieved something far more transcendent than me. But right now, the omnipotence you possess is exactly the same omnipotence I possess—one bound to the infinite iteration of this world.
>She precisely defines what you've been experiencing over the last 6 hours: a semi-random appearance of events, from which you can find little to no information to free yourself from this state of observation. Based on how Hannah describes herself, you can figure out a couple of things. She is just like you in this mode of witnessing the past—unable to interfere or make her voice heard anywhere except your ears. Likewise, she's so tied to Hannah that she remains close to her, allowing the succession of random events to continue. You can't harm her in any way—she passes through you and you through her whenever you try to interact more with the objects around you. However, trying to touch this well-dressed Hannah should be far less complicated than trying to touch Paquito or somehow hit Hayes. Unlike you, who can move at inhuman speeds and directions just by thinking, the divine Hannah projected near you does nothing but passively orbit the nun Hannah currently in the alien's situation.
(Jack) Boston, Boston! Sorry, I can't stop saying it. Paquito, you have no idea how long I've waited for your return! Ever since I was a kid... I knew one day we'd have our adventures again, just like in the old days.
(Paquito) Yeah, it's me, Jack. Now give me the access code to Gemini's bank funds. I'll make sure to run your agency with zero transparency, just like you always wanted.
(Jack) Absolutely. You know I'd do anything for a friend.
>>1487 →
>The atmosphere changed instantly. This time you could forget about the nonsense the boss of Gemini might or might not say, because once again you found yourself watching Hannah, who had the mission of climbing yet another small mountain. Your view of this excerpt from the story was the primary way of perceiving—nothing more than a pair of motionless eyes following Hannah everywhere. Only due to the peripheral presence of a second entity in this place did you begin to materialize part of your body into this observational plane. And not just your body: as soon as you recognized the presence of the Hannah wielding the sword and bearing the aspect of royalty, you too began generating a layer, a crown, and attire suited to your manner of ruling the newly explored infinite. The divine-appearing Hannah explains in detail the situation binding both of you. She recounts everything about the role that this supremely powerful entity plays in this plane of futile intervention upon the world.
(Hannah*) I observe everything—the past, present, and future of a specific creature—throughout eternity, from every possible perspective, even if I must occupy Planck-length differences across this vast, expansive universe. Hannah’s prayers, for instance, serve as shortcuts, allowing me to revisit a moment. You’ve been using them repeatedly. But don’t get used to them, because when Hannah’s life ends, you’ll have to eternally witness the life of Doxiagropobilicus, then the life of LeSueur, every inhabitant of Nod, every inhabitant of Boston, of Earth, and every living being that existed in the past, exists in the present, and will exist in the future.
>Not exactly uplifting news. You’ve had more than enough of Hannah for a very long time now, having explored her fighting, living, and interacting with others extensively. What the Hannah before you explains summarizes certain specific flickers—like the multiple appearances you experienced when she held the lamb, or the silent ones she made while walking through the hospital corridor, determined in her next course of action. Aside from moments when Hannah prayed to God, you likely had to shift to instances too mundane to matter during observation. From the moment she was born until her death, someone else confirming that you’ll remain here for eternity, shifting positions to witness the same things—every time Hannah took a shit or masturbated—is neither news nor a task anyone would willingly accept as an omnipresent God. Following the explanation of Trinitarian Hannah, the Hannah both of you are observing finally reaches her destination hours after twilight. At the lonely peak of a mountain once used to protect livestock and serve as a prayer site, a black sword is embedded in the earth, ready for Hannah to claim it immediately. Trinitarian Hannah reveals one more aspect—perhaps the most important since she indirectly pronounced your sentence—a hidden ability to interfere in events. Minutes pass between Hannah finding the weapon and being attacked by her own mind, forcing her to repeatedly beg for forgiveness.
(Hannah*) You will be like them and think like them, because every part makes up God. The same God who can do anything, because, every billions of iterations a statistical error appears that I can only define as a miracle. Move an electron, disintegrate a particle, vary the speed of an object by 0.000001% and even…
(Hannah) Oh, lord. Forgive me. Forgive me. Lord, forgive me. I will do terrible things in your name… I can't. I can't!
(Hannah*) This is the infinite power you sought. It works infinitely to strike any fool with lightning, moves atom by atom to part a sea in your name, or assembles your perfect offspring in some mother's womb. It is entirely up to you, as long as you can bear it, unlike everyone else…
>The Hannah in appearance approached her kneeling self on the ground before her divine weapon. No matter how much time passed from when she got her weapon until she fought with you, her crying and lamentations are heard the same both upon obtaining her ultimate weapon, and after eliminating Sally and repenting in mortification. It was after Hannah explained to you the application of miracles on this plane that she also knelt down to the level of her other self and showing an expression more distinct than the inexpressiveness that characterizes her, Hannah brought one of her fingers to wipe away the tears of her younger counterpart herself. She held the drop of water for a second in her hands, so that to an instant viewer it must have looked like a bit of dew remaining levitating from Hannah's actions, until finally Trinitarian Hannah closed her fingers and simply disintegrated the small concentration of water forever. In the way she explained it, miracles like those in Abrahamic myths, as well as the most recent ones achieved by Hannah, must be an application of infinite steps one after another measured over hundreds and millions of people to coincide in the probabilistic error of an action. It is absurd, typical of an absurd power that has no limits but mental resilience itself. As a being of infinite life you could be compatible with the nature of this place, occupying everything, at all times, without realizing the changes only after visiting other eternities and changing your mind based on the experiences of others.
>The atmosphere changed instantly. This time you could forget about the nonsense the boss of Gemini might or might not say, because once again you found yourself watching Hannah, who had the mission of climbing yet another small mountain. Your view of this excerpt from the story was the primary way of perceiving—nothing more than a pair of motionless eyes following Hannah everywhere. Only due to the peripheral presence of a second entity in this place did you begin to materialize part of your body into this observational plane. And not just your body: as soon as you recognized the presence of the Hannah wielding the sword and bearing the aspect of royalty, you too began generating a layer, a crown, and attire suited to your manner of ruling the newly explored infinite. The divine-appearing Hannah explains in detail the situation binding both of you. She recounts everything about the role that this supremely powerful entity plays in this plane of futile intervention upon the world.
(Hannah*) I observe everything—the past, present, and future of a specific creature—throughout eternity, from every possible perspective, even if I must occupy Planck-length differences across this vast, expansive universe. Hannah’s prayers, for instance, serve as shortcuts, allowing me to revisit a moment. You’ve been using them repeatedly. But don’t get used to them, because when Hannah’s life ends, you’ll have to eternally witness the life of Doxiagropobilicus, then the life of LeSueur, every inhabitant of Nod, every inhabitant of Boston, of Earth, and every living being that existed in the past, exists in the present, and will exist in the future.
>Not exactly uplifting news. You’ve had more than enough of Hannah for a very long time now, having explored her fighting, living, and interacting with others extensively. What the Hannah before you explains summarizes certain specific flickers—like the multiple appearances you experienced when she held the lamb, or the silent ones she made while walking through the hospital corridor, determined in her next course of action. Aside from moments when Hannah prayed to God, you likely had to shift to instances too mundane to matter during observation. From the moment she was born until her death, someone else confirming that you’ll remain here for eternity, shifting positions to witness the same things—every time Hannah took a shit or masturbated—is neither news nor a task anyone would willingly accept as an omnipresent God. Following the explanation of Trinitarian Hannah, the Hannah both of you are observing finally reaches her destination hours after twilight. At the lonely peak of a mountain once used to protect livestock and serve as a prayer site, a black sword is embedded in the earth, ready for Hannah to claim it immediately. Trinitarian Hannah reveals one more aspect—perhaps the most important since she indirectly pronounced your sentence—a hidden ability to interfere in events. Minutes pass between Hannah finding the weapon and being attacked by her own mind, forcing her to repeatedly beg for forgiveness.
(Hannah*) You will be like them and think like them, because every part makes up God. The same God who can do anything, because, every billions of iterations a statistical error appears that I can only define as a miracle. Move an electron, disintegrate a particle, vary the speed of an object by 0.000001% and even…
(Hannah) Oh, lord. Forgive me. Forgive me. Lord, forgive me. I will do terrible things in your name… I can't. I can't!
(Hannah*) This is the infinite power you sought. It works infinitely to strike any fool with lightning, moves atom by atom to part a sea in your name, or assembles your perfect offspring in some mother's womb. It is entirely up to you, as long as you can bear it, unlike everyone else…
>The Hannah in appearance approached her kneeling self on the ground before her divine weapon. No matter how much time passed from when she got her weapon until she fought with you, her crying and lamentations are heard the same both upon obtaining her ultimate weapon, and after eliminating Sally and repenting in mortification. It was after Hannah explained to you the application of miracles on this plane that she also knelt down to the level of her other self and showing an expression more distinct than the inexpressiveness that characterizes her, Hannah brought one of her fingers to wipe away the tears of her younger counterpart herself. She held the drop of water for a second in her hands, so that to an instant viewer it must have looked like a bit of dew remaining levitating from Hannah's actions, until finally Trinitarian Hannah closed her fingers and simply disintegrated the small concentration of water forever. In the way she explained it, miracles like those in Abrahamic myths, as well as the most recent ones achieved by Hannah, must be an application of infinite steps one after another measured over hundreds and millions of people to coincide in the probabilistic error of an action. It is absurd, typical of an absurd power that has no limits but mental resilience itself. As a being of infinite life you could be compatible with the nature of this place, occupying everything, at all times, without realizing the changes only after visiting other eternities and changing your mind based on the experiences of others.
>>1488 →
>But no matter how the Trinity Hannah makes it seem, orchestrating a miracle for you is just as likely as expecting Batenkaitos to seek mental help or Bagoriceny to stop killing innocent animals based on their appearance—simply impossible. She makes sure to emphasize this once again, stressing the overwhelming boredom you started to feel after watching Hannah do a lot of nothing for a long time.
(Hannah*) But you won't be able to do it. You won't be able to do anything. I've spent millions, and millions, and millions of eternities witnessing other lives. You need an iron will to achieve something like that—an divine will. (...) Listen, right now I'm a Hannah with 824 years of memories. Why? That sword doesn't just cut the past or future by chasing your target's projection across ridiculously distant positions—it also affects the memories of its wielder the moment you start swinging it. I can project an innocent Hannah whenever I want, just as easily as I can project a Hannah who's lived decillions of years mechanically performing her duties. She only needs to hold the sword in her hands, and I—I—and I, I and only I will take care of the rest.
>It was the Trinity Hannah herself who chose to reveal her true nature, after they'd jumped for the sixteenth time into the moment when Olivia calls out to Hannah, only for Hannah to completely ignore her. The real-looking Hannah continues explaining about the sword that suddenly appeared in Hannah's hands, pointing at it, assigning it properties equally absurd yet effectively applicable in reality. Finally, you're shown the mechanism behind Hannah's instability in combat, the reason why in none of her memories or experiences did she ever firmly grip the sword, but instead let it float mere centimeters or millimeters away from her hand. The Hannah standing before you decides when to switch places within the mind of the Hannah facing Olivia, and precisely when it's best to do so in order not to excessively alter the future or past based on her memories. After all, she is the sword's bearer—only she can fully touch it and use its power to cut memories. As for you, you've never had the chance to snatch the weapon away and deprive her of her powers or the decisions she made ahead of time. She approached you, close enough that you could feel her cloak brush against your clothes, turning invulnerability and intangibility back into nothing. And when she did, she displayed an attitude different from her usual impassiveness—whether in reality or in the observational plane.
(Hannah*) Sacrificing my mind eternally, erasing my memories one by one, whenever fate decides. If it means ensuring a demon like you never involves itself with a human again, it's a price worth paying. Sally's death was inevitable.
>She acts with arrogance when she has to reveal the full extent of her plan—one she has followed both in the past and in the future, systematically replacing herself to achieve her confrontation with you. The Hannah standing before you is precisely why, no matter what, Sally was certain she would die, regardless of whether she had ever known Hannah until the moment it happened. Again, they return from the Vatican to the interior of the hospital, taking a position outside the room where events unfold, yet still able to hear Sally's and Mercy's voices behind the door arguing over the wound you caused. The impeccably dressed Hannah who confronted you paces back and forth as she prepares to enter the room once more, precisely at the moment events unfold, only to point at the sword that will flawlessly emerge from Sally's body in an instant. She gives you the answer to the failed contract you attempted long ago—because she is their God in this human world, not the entire world, and she is herself both in the past and in the future, if you can align with the moment her memories are rewritten. Apparently, this Hannah, before her counterpart murdered Sally, tries to warn you about whether or not you can use the shortcut of prayers integrated into this observation plane's deep and indecipherable matrix. Finishing her gesture toward the sword, Hannah Trinitaria attempts to vanish, becoming increasingly transparent,
(Sally) (...) But, I trust that everything will be alright.
(Hannah) Keep that attitude until the end.
(Hannah*) I know your exit from this place is predetermined. I created this sword. I am the connection between God, my sword, and myself. But you cannot break me—because after this, Hannah Cade Andronicus will never again direct a prayer to God.
>But no matter how the Trinity Hannah makes it seem, orchestrating a miracle for you is just as likely as expecting Batenkaitos to seek mental help or Bagoriceny to stop killing innocent animals based on their appearance—simply impossible. She makes sure to emphasize this once again, stressing the overwhelming boredom you started to feel after watching Hannah do a lot of nothing for a long time.
(Hannah*) But you won't be able to do it. You won't be able to do anything. I've spent millions, and millions, and millions of eternities witnessing other lives. You need an iron will to achieve something like that—an divine will. (...) Listen, right now I'm a Hannah with 824 years of memories. Why? That sword doesn't just cut the past or future by chasing your target's projection across ridiculously distant positions—it also affects the memories of its wielder the moment you start swinging it. I can project an innocent Hannah whenever I want, just as easily as I can project a Hannah who's lived decillions of years mechanically performing her duties. She only needs to hold the sword in her hands, and I—I—and I, I and only I will take care of the rest.
>It was the Trinity Hannah herself who chose to reveal her true nature, after they'd jumped for the sixteenth time into the moment when Olivia calls out to Hannah, only for Hannah to completely ignore her. The real-looking Hannah continues explaining about the sword that suddenly appeared in Hannah's hands, pointing at it, assigning it properties equally absurd yet effectively applicable in reality. Finally, you're shown the mechanism behind Hannah's instability in combat, the reason why in none of her memories or experiences did she ever firmly grip the sword, but instead let it float mere centimeters or millimeters away from her hand. The Hannah standing before you decides when to switch places within the mind of the Hannah facing Olivia, and precisely when it's best to do so in order not to excessively alter the future or past based on her memories. After all, she is the sword's bearer—only she can fully touch it and use its power to cut memories. As for you, you've never had the chance to snatch the weapon away and deprive her of her powers or the decisions she made ahead of time. She approached you, close enough that you could feel her cloak brush against your clothes, turning invulnerability and intangibility back into nothing. And when she did, she displayed an attitude different from her usual impassiveness—whether in reality or in the observational plane.
(Hannah*) Sacrificing my mind eternally, erasing my memories one by one, whenever fate decides. If it means ensuring a demon like you never involves itself with a human again, it's a price worth paying. Sally's death was inevitable.
>She acts with arrogance when she has to reveal the full extent of her plan—one she has followed both in the past and in the future, systematically replacing herself to achieve her confrontation with you. The Hannah standing before you is precisely why, no matter what, Sally was certain she would die, regardless of whether she had ever known Hannah until the moment it happened. Again, they return from the Vatican to the interior of the hospital, taking a position outside the room where events unfold, yet still able to hear Sally's and Mercy's voices behind the door arguing over the wound you caused. The impeccably dressed Hannah who confronted you paces back and forth as she prepares to enter the room once more, precisely at the moment events unfold, only to point at the sword that will flawlessly emerge from Sally's body in an instant. She gives you the answer to the failed contract you attempted long ago—because she is their God in this human world, not the entire world, and she is herself both in the past and in the future, if you can align with the moment her memories are rewritten. Apparently, this Hannah, before her counterpart murdered Sally, tries to warn you about whether or not you can use the shortcut of prayers integrated into this observation plane's deep and indecipherable matrix. Finishing her gesture toward the sword, Hannah Trinitaria attempts to vanish, becoming increasingly transparent,
(Sally) (...) But, I trust that everything will be alright.
(Hannah) Keep that attitude until the end.
(Hannah*) I know your exit from this place is predetermined. I created this sword. I am the connection between God, my sword, and myself. But you cannot break me—because after this, Hannah Cade Andronicus will never again direct a prayer to God.
Eje is the name that normality gives to the plane that inhabits. The records describe an environment of active settlements and functional infrastructure built upon the remains of an ancient Earth. The terrain and history manifest as an immense superposition of strata where each neo-Victorian or medieval structure integrates over the preexisting ones, forming a landscape populated by dungeons, territorial dragons and fantastic fauna.
The geography operates under the concept of Closed Horizon, a perpetual cycle where advancing always to the east successively takes you from the domain of normality toward the minimal territories, then to the massive ones, and finally back to the point of origin. This linear configuration has eliminated the concept of the west; moving in that direction means accessing directly the region called Double East. Trade routes and expeditionary paths cross these territorial bands crossing the boundaries of each physical scale.
The Hex is the constitutive fiber and the energetic fabric that sustains society, law and transportation. Although its technical principles are imprecise, there are 355 fundamental spells that allow will to impose itself over matter immediately. The urban infrastructure uses this energy to maintain operational the industrial mechanisms, the long-range communication systems and the basic services of the population centers.
The presence of the normals is limited by the Saturation Gradient, a natural phenomenon where the excess of Hex to the east disintegrates the organism and its absence to the double east causes cognitive paralysis. Under this restriction operates the Queen, the only authentic and eternal human who exercises administrative and symbolic command of the plane. Her incomplete memories about the origin world define the legal and religious frameworks that govern the eighty-eight million inhabitants.
At the extreme scales of the cycle coexist the Massive and the Diminutive. To the east, the ten thousand realms of the Diminutive sustain a ritualized war that releases hostile invocations toward the central settlements. Toward the double east, the Massive traverse the world as tectonic forces ignoring the minor civilizations. The geopolitical order depends on individuals loyal to the crown who, through maximum class spells, manage these forces to feed the technical network of normality.
Outside the urban nuclei, the periphery hosts communities of Non-Normals, such as anthropomorphic bananas, human-featured dinosaurs and talking animals. These societies, which include the rigid simian nations and the mimetic reptilian ones, operate autonomously with their own laws and social structures. The settlements in these areas integrate into the functional landscape sharing the space with the fantastic fauna and the active phenomena of the Hex.
Sheet
>Name
>Appearance
>About you
You have 40 points to distribute between:
Physical Affinity:
Energetic Affinity:
Spiritual Affinity:
Command Affinity:
Psychic Affinity:
Dark Affinity:
You have 2000 Hex points to learn spells (Meta)
The geography operates under the concept of Closed Horizon, a perpetual cycle where advancing always to the east successively takes you from the domain of normality toward the minimal territories, then to the massive ones, and finally back to the point of origin. This linear configuration has eliminated the concept of the west; moving in that direction means accessing directly the region called Double East. Trade routes and expeditionary paths cross these territorial bands crossing the boundaries of each physical scale.
The Hex is the constitutive fiber and the energetic fabric that sustains society, law and transportation. Although its technical principles are imprecise, there are 355 fundamental spells that allow will to impose itself over matter immediately. The urban infrastructure uses this energy to maintain operational the industrial mechanisms, the long-range communication systems and the basic services of the population centers.
The presence of the normals is limited by the Saturation Gradient, a natural phenomenon where the excess of Hex to the east disintegrates the organism and its absence to the double east causes cognitive paralysis. Under this restriction operates the Queen, the only authentic and eternal human who exercises administrative and symbolic command of the plane. Her incomplete memories about the origin world define the legal and religious frameworks that govern the eighty-eight million inhabitants.
At the extreme scales of the cycle coexist the Massive and the Diminutive. To the east, the ten thousand realms of the Diminutive sustain a ritualized war that releases hostile invocations toward the central settlements. Toward the double east, the Massive traverse the world as tectonic forces ignoring the minor civilizations. The geopolitical order depends on individuals loyal to the crown who, through maximum class spells, manage these forces to feed the technical network of normality.
Outside the urban nuclei, the periphery hosts communities of Non-Normals, such as anthropomorphic bananas, human-featured dinosaurs and talking animals. These societies, which include the rigid simian nations and the mimetic reptilian ones, operate autonomously with their own laws and social structures. The settlements in these areas integrate into the functional landscape sharing the space with the fantastic fauna and the active phenomena of the Hex.
Sheet
>Name
>Appearance
>About you
You have 40 points to distribute between:
Physical Affinity:
Energetic Affinity:
Spiritual Affinity:
Command Affinity:
Psychic Affinity:
Dark Affinity:
You have 2000 Hex points to learn spells (Meta)
>>3357 →
>Seeing Monica laugh in that clumsy way and then declare herself human with all those strange immunities leaves me in a second of silence.
— (Inflammable but harmless? Immune to magic and also to people of color? This is very strange, her behavior is too innocent… or too artificial. Is she really what she says she is?)
— I understand… Monica. You don't seem like a threat. Just… be more careful next time with the kitchen
>I respond with a calm voice, trying to sound reassuring.
>Suddenly the cookies turn into that fire monster and it starts to laugh and threaten. I instinctively take a step back and raise my weapon pointing at the entity.
— (What...? This has gone from strange to dangerous) Watch out!
>I shout more to alert the others than for anything else.
>When I hear Grok's voice from outside warning about the trees falling I feel a chill. I turn my head for a moment towards the entrance.
— (Now something is coming from the forest? A beast? We can't split up like this… but we can't ignore this either) Grok! Keep your position outside! There's a fire monster inside here!
>I look again at Monica and then at the fire monster, tightening my grip on my weapon.
— Sir Eshrec, take Pipino out of here if necessary. Monica… if you're Inflammable, maybe you can step back. I'll take care of this
>I take a step forward, trying to keep my voice firm despite the nerves.
— You! Lord of Fire… Are you really going to attack over burned cookies? If you want revenge, at least explain yourself before launching flames everywhere.
>I prepare to attack or dodge, feeling my heart pounding fast but trying to keep my mind as clear as possible.
— (This doesn't look good… between the monster inside and whatever is coming from the forest… we're going to have to act quickly)
>I try to focus and use the luminiscence spell to get more information on what's approaching. I also use the freeze spell to test the fire monster first before attacking head-on.
Luminiscence: 1d100 = 93
Congelar: 1d100 = 90
>Seeing Monica laugh in that clumsy way and then declare herself human with all those strange immunities leaves me in a second of silence.
— (Inflammable but harmless? Immune to magic and also to people of color? This is very strange, her behavior is too innocent… or too artificial. Is she really what she says she is?)
— I understand… Monica. You don't seem like a threat. Just… be more careful next time with the kitchen
>I respond with a calm voice, trying to sound reassuring.
>Suddenly the cookies turn into that fire monster and it starts to laugh and threaten. I instinctively take a step back and raise my weapon pointing at the entity.
— (What...? This has gone from strange to dangerous) Watch out!
>I shout more to alert the others than for anything else.
>When I hear Grok's voice from outside warning about the trees falling I feel a chill. I turn my head for a moment towards the entrance.
— (Now something is coming from the forest? A beast? We can't split up like this… but we can't ignore this either) Grok! Keep your position outside! There's a fire monster inside here!
>I look again at Monica and then at the fire monster, tightening my grip on my weapon.
— Sir Eshrec, take Pipino out of here if necessary. Monica… if you're Inflammable, maybe you can step back. I'll take care of this
>I take a step forward, trying to keep my voice firm despite the nerves.
— You! Lord of Fire… Are you really going to attack over burned cookies? If you want revenge, at least explain yourself before launching flames everywhere.
>I prepare to attack or dodge, feeling my heart pounding fast but trying to keep my mind as clear as possible.
— (This doesn't look good… between the monster inside and whatever is coming from the forest… we're going to have to act quickly)
>I try to focus and use the luminiscence spell to get more information on what's approaching. I also use the freeze spell to test the fire monster first before attacking head-on.
Luminiscence: 1d100 = 93
Congelar: 1d100 = 90
>>3359 →
You saw water dripping from María's forehead, and if you looked closely, her face had a tomato-like complexion. She didn't confirm it, but didn't deny either that one of her possible intentions was to keep an eye on her teacher, and your curiosity about the proportions of her flesh masses was merely the final blow that made the poor girl look away for a moment. She fixed her eyes on the wall to one side, then shifted her gaze to a bookshelf on the other, back and forth, until she brought her doll close to her ear and suddenly lowered her face. Now Punpun was in front of you, shaking his head, then bowing it so you'd pet him—but it only lasted a few seconds. Once the girl recovered, she had no awareness of what had just happened, dismissed it, and kept explaining.
(...)
After revealing your logic, you've noticed several things: María's shining eyes and radiant smile didn't fade even when you emphasized how terrible her teacher was at preserving clues. She didn't react at all when you lifted her, merely pointing her index finger to the left—the direction you should follow to reach Belladanza.
Your singing echoed throughout Céfiro. Who cares if you risk slipping on puddles or catching a cold from the harsh rain? It's worth it! Your goal of registering the largest breasts in the kingdom is an achievement you must savor before anyone else. Not even María's almost negligible weight could slow you down—you're very strong... or perhaps the girl is just extremely light. The good thing is, there's nobody on the streets. Most likely, passersby have returned home or are sheltered under the roofs of nearby shops, so you can rest assured you won't bump into anyone.
After nearly a minute, María finally shows a gesture—by which I mean she merely blinked—one that, had it happened earlier, wouldn't have left the girl teary-eyed now.
(María) That reminds me of those ancient, fascinating stories based on a world before the Axis! We used to read them in...! Punpun?
(Punpun) ...
(María) Whaaat?! Don't be like that, Punpun! (...) Don't listen to him, Eärendyl—I suspect those same policemen too! One of them called me crazy when I offered to help with the case. Wait, didn't I say something else?
Ignoring the crazy lady who was slow to respond, you could see in the distance an abnormal giant blocking the path—there was no other way to go. A bit closer to you was a car, one with flashing red and blue lights on top that might've been about to Eärendyl you, but luckily, it was motionless.
? | Anchor SUCCESS
Your legs were rebelling against you, refusing to obey, not to mention your arms, fingers, neck... you could barely breathe or keep holding the girl, though the latter was starting to hurt from staying in the same position.
(María) W-We didn't steal anything!
(?) You committed a crime... and it was stealing my heart~!
Dark hair, golden eyes, and a uniform dominated by sea-colored tones. She had gotten out of the car way too cheerful, her gaze locked onto the girl. Bouncing closer and closer with little jumps, her final leap came with arms wide open toward María, who was now at the mercy of the police—they'd taken her from you, at least Punpun didn't fall off your shoulder.
To the woman, it was as if you didn't exist. You could see the crazy lady being used like a stuffed teddy bear.
(María) Let go of me!
(?) I saw you helping Professor Risa in several cases! In the newspapers you look so serious... but up close you're so sweet~!
(María) Waaah!
Someone else got out of the car—a young man wearing almost the same outfit, brown eyes, and hair just as dark as the woman's, though for some reason longer than hers. He pulled the officer—and María—back toward the car.
(?) Aww... Marco, don't be like that.
(Marco) You nearly got sued last time because of this, boss. Let her go, poor thing, she's all soaked.
(María) I'm not some poor thing! I'm María José VII!
(Marco) Huh... who?
(María) Ma-rí-a Jo-Sé Sép-ti-ma!
(Chief) She's Risa's student, I've missed her so much! Haven't seen her in the news for weeks... Oh, did you get sick?
(María) They won't let me do anything!
(Marco) Ah right, the kid who stands out at that academy.
(María) Not a kid! De-tec-ti-ve! Even Punpun knows that!
(Chief and Marco) Punpun?
You had faded into the background, alone, standing in the rain instead of inside the warm car. At least you weren't completely ignored—the giant was the only one who hadn't stopped staring at you since the woman started causing a scene. He didn't seem able to speak, nor showed any sign of moving. Meanwhile, you were finally free.
(Marco) Hey! You! Are you friends with this little girl!? Come here!
And at last, someone normal noticed you.
You saw water dripping from María's forehead, and if you looked closely, her face had a tomato-like complexion. She didn't confirm it, but didn't deny either that one of her possible intentions was to keep an eye on her teacher, and your curiosity about the proportions of her flesh masses was merely the final blow that made the poor girl look away for a moment. She fixed her eyes on the wall to one side, then shifted her gaze to a bookshelf on the other, back and forth, until she brought her doll close to her ear and suddenly lowered her face. Now Punpun was in front of you, shaking his head, then bowing it so you'd pet him—but it only lasted a few seconds. Once the girl recovered, she had no awareness of what had just happened, dismissed it, and kept explaining.
(...)
After revealing your logic, you've noticed several things: María's shining eyes and radiant smile didn't fade even when you emphasized how terrible her teacher was at preserving clues. She didn't react at all when you lifted her, merely pointing her index finger to the left—the direction you should follow to reach Belladanza.
Your singing echoed throughout Céfiro. Who cares if you risk slipping on puddles or catching a cold from the harsh rain? It's worth it! Your goal of registering the largest breasts in the kingdom is an achievement you must savor before anyone else. Not even María's almost negligible weight could slow you down—you're very strong... or perhaps the girl is just extremely light. The good thing is, there's nobody on the streets. Most likely, passersby have returned home or are sheltered under the roofs of nearby shops, so you can rest assured you won't bump into anyone.
After nearly a minute, María finally shows a gesture—by which I mean she merely blinked—one that, had it happened earlier, wouldn't have left the girl teary-eyed now.
(María) That reminds me of those ancient, fascinating stories based on a world before the Axis! We used to read them in...! Punpun?
(Punpun) ...
(María) Whaaat?! Don't be like that, Punpun! (...) Don't listen to him, Eärendyl—I suspect those same policemen too! One of them called me crazy when I offered to help with the case. Wait, didn't I say something else?
Ignoring the crazy lady who was slow to respond, you could see in the distance an abnormal giant blocking the path—there was no other way to go. A bit closer to you was a car, one with flashing red and blue lights on top that might've been about to Eärendyl you, but luckily, it was motionless.
? | Anchor SUCCESS
Your legs were rebelling against you, refusing to obey, not to mention your arms, fingers, neck... you could barely breathe or keep holding the girl, though the latter was starting to hurt from staying in the same position.
(María) W-We didn't steal anything!
(?) You committed a crime... and it was stealing my heart~!
Dark hair, golden eyes, and a uniform dominated by sea-colored tones. She had gotten out of the car way too cheerful, her gaze locked onto the girl. Bouncing closer and closer with little jumps, her final leap came with arms wide open toward María, who was now at the mercy of the police—they'd taken her from you, at least Punpun didn't fall off your shoulder.
To the woman, it was as if you didn't exist. You could see the crazy lady being used like a stuffed teddy bear.
(María) Let go of me!
(?) I saw you helping Professor Risa in several cases! In the newspapers you look so serious... but up close you're so sweet~!
(María) Waaah!
Someone else got out of the car—a young man wearing almost the same outfit, brown eyes, and hair just as dark as the woman's, though for some reason longer than hers. He pulled the officer—and María—back toward the car.
(?) Aww... Marco, don't be like that.
(Marco) You nearly got sued last time because of this, boss. Let her go, poor thing, she's all soaked.
(María) I'm not some poor thing! I'm María José VII!
(Marco) Huh... who?
(María) Ma-rí-a Jo-Sé Sép-ti-ma!
(Chief) She's Risa's student, I've missed her so much! Haven't seen her in the news for weeks... Oh, did you get sick?
(María) They won't let me do anything!
(Marco) Ah right, the kid who stands out at that academy.
(María) Not a kid! De-tec-ti-ve! Even Punpun knows that!
(Chief and Marco) Punpun?
You had faded into the background, alone, standing in the rain instead of inside the warm car. At least you weren't completely ignored—the giant was the only one who hadn't stopped staring at you since the woman started causing a scene. He didn't seem able to speak, nor showed any sign of moving. Meanwhile, you were finally free.
(Marco) Hey! You! Are you friends with this little girl!? Come here!
And at last, someone normal noticed you.
>>3350 →
>>3354 →
(((Man Without A Name)))
>We weren't especially nutritious, it was just a sport. What good times.
The world is for the strong and the weak must obey, like the wind and the grass, when the wind blows the wind bends before it
>I briefly explain his view of the world, obviously he considers himself a "strong man" because he is free, he does what he wants, sleeps with whom he wants and doesn't answer to anyone, he is, in the end, a truly free man but a slave to his own impulses and human instincts
>He couldn't continue explaining his viewpoint because the poncho fell off his body leaving him in just underwear... what humiliation, now everyone knows that the proud, self-confident strong cowboy is just meat, although little or nothing may matter to him that people see his prominent bulge between his legs; it's not that he's exhibitionist but simply that he doesn't care how people see him, even he might see it as an opportunity, maybe a pretty monkey could like his corpulent, hairy and smelly body with cigar and powder
>And I who only wanted to make some friends with whom to share my secrets about the magic of other worlds.
Hey boy, wait a moment, it was just a joke a while ago, come please
>Blondie bent down to pick up his poncho and hat from the ground, put on the poncho while Option approached him and rolled in the dirty, dusty fabric, took off the dangling cigarette from his lip and handed it to the dark glasses guy in his hand
throw that away please, you can go now
>https://youtu.be/c8NqYibMeow?si=Up_bbhqD2gulTOm3&t=124
▶
>They are led to a beautiful, huge and precious dining room, the music of that place could only be compared to the one you've already heard in the movies that play in the bars, those movies that mock the pomp and excesses of the elite that takes advantage of the humble and honest workers that Rubio constantly cheats, he couldn't care less, thief is a thief
>He also couldn't care about the gourmet food, yes, he saw how Rose ate the food properly and could follow her steps but again he didn't care how people saw him. While that fat slut was talking he took out a cigar from his poncho, yes, one of those handsome and delicious ones exported from Cuba that he kept for special occasions, he brought it to his lips and called fire with the tip of his finger and lit it, exhaled a cloud of smoke directly to the ceiling. He also didn't stop at smoking in that beautiful place, he grabbed a spoon and with that same one he ate loudly and spoonful by spoonful the slices of banana
>Don't forget to respond to the survey that has been left at each table.
>He looked at the survey, the one about the government system seemed strange to him, usually he would say that a capitalist anarchic free market but for strange that it may seem it wasn't there, so he went to the option that seemed most appropriate to him: the one of the law of the strongest
>Although something that he didn't like was the wanwanwanesa trying to mentally control her little Rose
>>3354 →
>Rubio hit the exhibitionist on the butt and also gave her a delicious good squeeze of the right butt, he leaned his lips close to her ear, the stench of alcohol, tobacco and unbrushed teeth haunted her delicate nasal passages
Sweetheart, I would appreciate it if you wouldn't mentally control my wife, there shouldn't be discord among my women
>He let go of his wide backside before smoking more of his cigar
>>3354 →
(((Man Without A Name)))
>We weren't especially nutritious, it was just a sport. What good times.
The world is for the strong and the weak must obey, like the wind and the grass, when the wind blows the wind bends before it
>I briefly explain his view of the world, obviously he considers himself a "strong man" because he is free, he does what he wants, sleeps with whom he wants and doesn't answer to anyone, he is, in the end, a truly free man but a slave to his own impulses and human instincts
>He couldn't continue explaining his viewpoint because the poncho fell off his body leaving him in just underwear... what humiliation, now everyone knows that the proud, self-confident strong cowboy is just meat, although little or nothing may matter to him that people see his prominent bulge between his legs; it's not that he's exhibitionist but simply that he doesn't care how people see him, even he might see it as an opportunity, maybe a pretty monkey could like his corpulent, hairy and smelly body with cigar and powder
>And I who only wanted to make some friends with whom to share my secrets about the magic of other worlds.
Hey boy, wait a moment, it was just a joke a while ago, come please
>Blondie bent down to pick up his poncho and hat from the ground, put on the poncho while Option approached him and rolled in the dirty, dusty fabric, took off the dangling cigarette from his lip and handed it to the dark glasses guy in his hand
throw that away please, you can go now
>https://youtu.be/c8NqYibMeow?si=Up_bbhqD2gulTOm3&t=124
▶>They are led to a beautiful, huge and precious dining room, the music of that place could only be compared to the one you've already heard in the movies that play in the bars, those movies that mock the pomp and excesses of the elite that takes advantage of the humble and honest workers that Rubio constantly cheats, he couldn't care less, thief is a thief
>He also couldn't care about the gourmet food, yes, he saw how Rose ate the food properly and could follow her steps but again he didn't care how people saw him. While that fat slut was talking he took out a cigar from his poncho, yes, one of those handsome and delicious ones exported from Cuba that he kept for special occasions, he brought it to his lips and called fire with the tip of his finger and lit it, exhaled a cloud of smoke directly to the ceiling. He also didn't stop at smoking in that beautiful place, he grabbed a spoon and with that same one he ate loudly and spoonful by spoonful the slices of banana
>Don't forget to respond to the survey that has been left at each table.
>He looked at the survey, the one about the government system seemed strange to him, usually he would say that a capitalist anarchic free market but for strange that it may seem it wasn't there, so he went to the option that seemed most appropriate to him: the one of the law of the strongest
>Although something that he didn't like was the wanwanwanesa trying to mentally control her little Rose
>>3354 →
>Rubio hit the exhibitionist on the butt and also gave her a delicious good squeeze of the right butt, he leaned his lips close to her ear, the stench of alcohol, tobacco and unbrushed teeth haunted her delicate nasal passages
Sweetheart, I would appreciate it if you wouldn't mentally control my wife, there shouldn't be discord among my women
>He let go of his wide backside before smoking more of his cigar
Can you cut all the fruits?
>Card
>Name
>Card
>Name
>>2796 →
>you draw your blade, in your hands it becomes a flash that reaches its targets before gravity even gains a nanometer of advantage on you
>the fruits don't know they were hit, the gleam of the blade illuminates the mountaintop like a star-shaped lighthouse, which disappears the next instant.
>you lower your weapon, and the attack squad is soon reduced to tiny cubes ready to be served, the bomb flew free, as the only remaining threat, and with decision, you do a backward jump with your leg extended to take care of it
>your body does an ascending crescent kick, your instep launches like lightning onto the lightning rod and connects.
>but something goes wrong...
>at the slightest contact, the bomb cracks, releasing beams of light like a disco ball, and then it explodes with the blinding brightness of the sun.
>since you are a robot, there is no immediate pain, but your indicators understand the violent pressure increase that pushes you powerfully against the ground, embedding you in the rock as if you were making snow angels
>your kick resulted in a shot to the foot. Once the light stops blinding you, you discover that your attempts to avoid the gunpowder have left you covered in soot.
"Hehehe..."
>a laugh. Perhaps mocking, weak, and filtered through old age, breaks the peace of the valley
Sensei: ohh, Lobelto-san... Don't you remember? You shouldn't hit the bombs
>it was the sensei himself, the first fruit ninja
Sensei: you're still a little green... but your skill with the sword is unmistakable... Cleo... That you are ready...
>then, the sensei turns his back to you
Sensei: follow me please
>the sensei walked, and guided you through the city that had a fruit theme and stuff, until you reached the town hall, the origin of all evil, of control, of the Great Fruither, Big Brother
Sensei: it's your moment young Fruit Ninja™... Are you ready to face the fruits and liberate the world?
>wow, that was fast, as if the OP hadn't really thought anyone would send a piece to this, would you go face your destiny in the epic final battle? Or perhaps, you'd prefer to explore the city and waste time, because we like Dracula surfing
>you draw your blade, in your hands it becomes a flash that reaches its targets before gravity even gains a nanometer of advantage on you
>the fruits don't know they were hit, the gleam of the blade illuminates the mountaintop like a star-shaped lighthouse, which disappears the next instant.
>you lower your weapon, and the attack squad is soon reduced to tiny cubes ready to be served, the bomb flew free, as the only remaining threat, and with decision, you do a backward jump with your leg extended to take care of it
>your body does an ascending crescent kick, your instep launches like lightning onto the lightning rod and connects.
>but something goes wrong...
>at the slightest contact, the bomb cracks, releasing beams of light like a disco ball, and then it explodes with the blinding brightness of the sun.
>since you are a robot, there is no immediate pain, but your indicators understand the violent pressure increase that pushes you powerfully against the ground, embedding you in the rock as if you were making snow angels
>your kick resulted in a shot to the foot. Once the light stops blinding you, you discover that your attempts to avoid the gunpowder have left you covered in soot.
"Hehehe..."
>a laugh. Perhaps mocking, weak, and filtered through old age, breaks the peace of the valley
Sensei: ohh, Lobelto-san... Don't you remember? You shouldn't hit the bombs
>it was the sensei himself, the first fruit ninja
Sensei: you're still a little green... but your skill with the sword is unmistakable... Cleo... That you are ready...
>then, the sensei turns his back to you
Sensei: follow me please
>the sensei walked, and guided you through the city that had a fruit theme and stuff, until you reached the town hall, the origin of all evil, of control, of the Great Fruither, Big Brother
Sensei: it's your moment young Fruit Ninja™... Are you ready to face the fruits and liberate the world?
>wow, that was fast, as if the OP hadn't really thought anyone would send a piece to this, would you go face your destiny in the epic final battle? Or perhaps, you'd prefer to explore the city and waste time, because we like Dracula surfing
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v5afllKgGTM
▶November 22, 1963. John F. Kennedy, the 35th President of the United States, disappears during a motorcade. The incident is captured by cameras and numerous eyewitnesses. It was not the first "Abduction" nor the last, and although the American government never accepted the veracity of the phenomenon, labeling everything as a plot orchestrated by the communist threat, Kennedy's abduction turned the world upside down, marking a turning point in the history of sentient creatures.
A decade later, the "F Incident" cools in collective memory, but the abductions continue...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQHUAJTZqF0
▶1973. Now there are new concerns. Old problems resurface. Drugs, love, and peace. The country boils in war against the Charlies, and nobody seems to like the outlook. Life turns its face to rock and roll, to new age solutions when all else fails. In cinema, eroticism and porn have no clear line. In music, you're either funk, or you're nothing. Charles Manson's followers prepare for a race war. Adventists count down the seconds to the final judgment day. Agents of chaos and order, who don't know they are, constantly clash on the thin line that keeps the world sane. And amidst all that maelstrom of conspiracy and color, there is Stepford...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k5pyIj5uoDs
▶This is the story of a small American town covered by the shadow of that which lies on the threshold, human sin and the vestiges of the space between spaces.
Welcome to the Frontrooms.
First and last name
>Gender
>Age
>About you
>About your past
>What you expect for your future (Either you live in Stepford, or sooner or later you'll have to pass through there for work or by chance).
Stat cap
HP: 150
Energy: 100
Hunger: 30/ Thirst: 30
-Strength: 15
-Agility: 15
-Stamina: 15
-Luck: 15
Human limits can be broken. But how...?
...
Note that the roleplay will be very narrative. Only three spots are available.
▶November 22, 1963. John F. Kennedy, the 35th President of the United States, disappears during a motorcade. The incident is captured by cameras and numerous eyewitnesses. It was not the first "Abduction" nor the last, and although the American government never accepted the veracity of the phenomenon, labeling everything as a plot orchestrated by the communist threat, Kennedy's abduction turned the world upside down, marking a turning point in the history of sentient creatures.A decade later, the "F Incident" cools in collective memory, but the abductions continue...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQHUAJTZqF0
▶1973. Now there are new concerns. Old problems resurface. Drugs, love, and peace. The country boils in war against the Charlies, and nobody seems to like the outlook. Life turns its face to rock and roll, to new age solutions when all else fails. In cinema, eroticism and porn have no clear line. In music, you're either funk, or you're nothing. Charles Manson's followers prepare for a race war. Adventists count down the seconds to the final judgment day. Agents of chaos and order, who don't know they are, constantly clash on the thin line that keeps the world sane. And amidst all that maelstrom of conspiracy and color, there is Stepford...https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k5pyIj5uoDs
▶This is the story of a small American town covered by the shadow of that which lies on the threshold, human sin and the vestiges of the space between spaces.Welcome to the Frontrooms.
First and last name
>Gender
>Age
>About you
>About your past
>What you expect for your future (Either you live in Stepford, or sooner or later you'll have to pass through there for work or by chance).
Stat cap
HP: 150
Energy: 100
Hunger: 30/ Thirst: 30
-Strength: 15
-Agility: 15
-Stamina: 15
-Luck: 15
Human limits can be broken. But how...?
...
Note that the roleplay will be very narrative. Only three spots are available.
Placid Sunday, just another morning. Her white sheet shimmered under golden rays, outlining the silhouette of the body she'd finally discovered last night. Her dreams—forgotten now—had been adorned by a vague sensation that allowed her to savor love as art. Things she experiences up close yet somehow elude her.
She wakes with the slowness the sun, so patient, grants her through caresses on her face. Her eyes open fully without delay; she slept well. The intense experience gifted her a pleasant lethargy. She gets up, resisting the urge to raise the blinds and let her eyes greet the landscape because she's naked.
"No one else is supposed to see this," her body seems to say, as she spins playfully toward the dresser.
She begins to dress. She has a big day ahead, and she'll live it beautifully. Rummaging through her clothes, she decides to embrace style—puts on navy blue high-waisted flared pants with a red belt, pairing them with a green tea-colored shirt with a pointed collar. She searches for a blazer too... only has one, floral.
"I love it."
She puts it on and looks in the mirror. She looks neutral... then dares to unbutton several buttons, exposing cleavage. The idea embarrasses her, but also liberates her. She smiles. Fixes her short hair... and now, finally, raises the blinds and opens the window...
The outside seems brighter than yesterday. Days in Steppenford are always a landscape. She loves the sun, adores it, can inhale the scent of morning. And release a sigh of satisfaction. Things were going to change, somehow.
"All future time is better."
That's what she believes. She turns from the window. Passes the painting with just a glance. She'll return to it later, with far more energy. Opens the door, and heads down for breakfast.
She passes through the kitchen, as lively as ever. Celia hums a sweet tune stuck in her head after passing once through a store playing music—a melody from another world, from an album with a beautiful blonde woman gazing at the sky. Life on Mars from Hunky Dory, by David Bowie
"Good morning, Mom!"
She exclaims, wanting to be seen.
>Celia
"Good morning, my li—"
She sees sternum, a little chest. Doesn't matter that they aren't mountains—she sees skin. Like how those crazy girls dress without a bra, that supposed new fashion trend making women clutch their chests.
"My God!"
Abby had already walked past by then, heading straight to the table where her father sat with a coffee cup, today's newspaper, waiting for the eggs and bacon that already smelled delicious.
>Abby
"Dad!" -she felt daring, she wanted to show her rebelliousness-
>Thomas
"Good morning, Abby."
He replied dryly, without taking his eyes off the newspaper. He was still thinking.
>Abby
"Daaad." -she doesn't give up- "What are you reading?"
>Thomas
"The newspaper."
>Abby
"Ahem..."
Celia comes out from behind, peeking nervously from the kitchen. She doesn't know what to say, she knows she should intervene, but at the same time, sticking her nose in would make them see Abby... like this.
"Look at me!"
Another sigh escaped the man. He lowered the newspaper, and his eyes almost popped out of their sockets when he saw his daughter with her breasts almost bare, like a harlot, smiling like an idiot while her hands separated from her body with palms wide open. As if saying 'this is me'.
>Thomas
"Abigail." -he said as he stood up- "Button that up and go put on a bra this instant!"
>Abby
"Huh?! But Dad-"
>Thomas
"SILENCE!" -Abby flinched slightly- "I won't let any daughter of mine dress like a... A... Whore." -he said, pointing-
>Abby
"..." -her eyes widened for a second- "..." -silence, she put on a normal face-
>Thomas
"..." -he breathed-
Abby lowered her gaze but not her defenses, she buttoned her shirt up to her neck, and went upstairs without saying anything. She had a lot to say, she thought, but nothing came out. She left, observed by Celia on her way, who looked at her with a sad face. Thomas slowly returned to his seat, the weight of his own words seemed to leave him not knowing where to look either. He took refuge in Celia's face, but she looked somewhat sad.
"..."
Better, he looked at the newspaper.
...
>Abby
"Is all I've done just being a whore?" -she asked the mirror as she put on her bra- "Is loving, perhaps, the conduct of a whore...?" -it hurt her to be pigeonholed with that word, maybe she would have been indifferent, but she felt that an insult from Dad hurt much more- "Woe is me... Father, why have you turned this beautiful morning into a tragedy?"
She felt like crying. She didn't, she didn't want to start the great day like this. She put on the same clothes, now with the shapes approved by her dad, and went downstairs again. She served herself some cereal, Mom had already served food to the rest. They were all seated, in a strange silence. Abigail ate with her head down, without any witty remarks. In silence.
(The silence is heavy.)
She was doing it on purpose, she wanted the silence to weigh more than anything else. Thomas couldn't help but glance at her from time to time, he didn't understand her. She looked melancholic, with downcast eyes and lips set in a calculated seriousness. And, ironically, the most uncomfortable one turned out to be Celia.
>Celia
"...Don't you want me to cook you something, sweetie? Are you really just having cereal?"
>Abby
(Nothing. Just cereal.)
She thinks it, doesn't want to speak.
>Thomas
"Answer your mother." –he commands–
>Celia
"C-carrie..."
>Abby
"..." –pauses mid-spoonful– "...no, nothing."
>Celia
sigh "You're sure?"
>Abby
"Nothing." –repeats, choosing the most uncomfortable word possible–
>Celia
"Hm..."
>Thomas
"Ja... Your loss." –they don't even look– "Eggs and bacon are the best." –Abby finishes the bite– "You don't even know how to eat something good." –Abby chews– "..." –mumbles–
>Celia
"Jaja..." –fakes a laugh at Thomas's comment to lighten the mood– "ehm... Dad." –tries to change the subject– "Did you watch anything interesting on TV last night...?"
And so they pass another while in nothingness. Until Thomas finally lets some of his resentment fade.
>Thomas
"Uh... don't you wanna go to Simulatron or...?"
>Celia
"Oh, great idea!" –exclaims, genuinely cheerful–
>Abby
"Nah..." –this time, genuine–
>Celia
"Oh..." –feels like she's been slapped down–
>Thomas
"What, no?"
Celia
"Who could it be?" –gets up, unwilling to miss a chance to get scammed, though she might score a new vacuum cleaner–
Celia/Thomas
"Oh!" / "What?" –one is surprised, the other also, but less pleasantly. Abby bolts down and runs to the door at the cry of 'I'll get it!'
Abigail stopped short before the wall stopped hiding her, then stepped out with a balletic lateral leap, full of grace, ending with hands at her sides as she finally saw who stood at the end of the hall.
"¡!" –a hesitation, like a choked guttural sound. A glottal stop. She straightened up and composed herself, flashing a smile at her grandmother for an instant before turning back to her teacher–
<Good morning, Abby.
"Good morning..."
Her words were like watercolors, activating a tone drenched in sighs, watered down by love. She runs a hand through her hair, adjusting it slightly without dropping the smile.
<I brought this. You left it at school yesterday, and I don't blame you, with everything that happened…
"Oh... Right. The morning was a Greek tragedy... But the ending was... hopeful."
(Tell him to just leave it there...)
She thought, since they lived in an area where they could easily leave the door open. That's what Abigail believed. But even if she didn't know, she walked down, with a better idea. She reached out and went for the doorknob, accidentally brushing Robin's hand
"Sorry..."
She was seeking contact. Her hand holds the bicycle. The closeness excites her, yet she prefers to step back a little—safe distance to talk to a police officer without interference (3 meters)—giving her hero a pleased glance.
"Thank you so much... You're very thoughtful. Quite the gentleman." -she flatters as much as she can-
<And I'm sorry.
"Huh?" -she's surprised- "And why on earth should you be sorry?" -alarm fills her, had she been deceived perhaps? Her world wobbles-
<I had to check your files to find out where you live.
Abby sighed at the privacy violation as if a truck’s weight had lifted from her shoulders. She now knows Robin is aware of her dust mite allergy, her home phone number, and of course, her address. Basic things in a relationship.
<I thought about going door to door asking, but I always get lost in the suburbs, everything looks so... similar.
"I understand." -she said, raising her gaze, with a silly smile that won't fade- "Monotony can be disorienting, confusing, and in a painting, almost dull." -almost, because while it would limit your creativity to repetition, redoing the same thing multiple times has its charm- "Don't apologize for that. Really. It's a very sweet gesture. That you went through the trouble... Shouldn't I be the one apologizing, perhaps? I'd ask Minerva right now."
She consulted the man because heaven and Rome were too far away. She's glad Robin knows where she lives. And from this situation, only one thing slightly saddens her: not knowing where he lives. So slightly, though, that it doesn't bother her, because she knows that if she keeps walking through the tunnel, in the end they'll be together and share everything. They're connected, they just need to move forward.
<Why don't you come in and talk more comfortably?
Abby's lips form a delicate circle from surprise, mirroring her teacher's. But she relaxes more quickly, breaking into a broad, almost mischievous smile as the grandmother invites him inside.
(I love you, grandma...)
<Don't even mention it! Abby, tell your mother to set another place at the table.
"Right away." -she turns with the bike, then glances over her shoulder- "Mom told me to ask for whatever you'd like for breakfast~ I'll get you a great breakfast." -she winks at him-
She walks. Crosses the doorway, turns once more.
"Sorry, I know clarifying this feels anticlimactic after what I just said. But I think I haven't made it clear enough: I want you to come in now. I don't like ambiguous scripts." -she lets out a little laugh, waiting for him to enter the house-
2/3
Keksito, this feels strangely politicized
She wakes with the slowness the sun, so patient, grants her through caresses on her face. Her eyes open fully without delay; she slept well. The intense experience gifted her a pleasant lethargy. She gets up, resisting the urge to raise the blinds and let her eyes greet the landscape because she's naked.
"No one else is supposed to see this," her body seems to say, as she spins playfully toward the dresser.
She begins to dress. She has a big day ahead, and she'll live it beautifully. Rummaging through her clothes, she decides to embrace style—puts on navy blue high-waisted flared pants with a red belt, pairing them with a green tea-colored shirt with a pointed collar. She searches for a blazer too... only has one, floral.
"I love it."
She puts it on and looks in the mirror. She looks neutral... then dares to unbutton several buttons, exposing cleavage. The idea embarrasses her, but also liberates her. She smiles. Fixes her short hair... and now, finally, raises the blinds and opens the window...
The outside seems brighter than yesterday. Days in Steppenford are always a landscape. She loves the sun, adores it, can inhale the scent of morning. And release a sigh of satisfaction. Things were going to change, somehow.
"All future time is better."
That's what she believes. She turns from the window. Passes the painting with just a glance. She'll return to it later, with far more energy. Opens the door, and heads down for breakfast.
She passes through the kitchen, as lively as ever. Celia hums a sweet tune stuck in her head after passing once through a store playing music—a melody from another world, from an album with a beautiful blonde woman gazing at the sky. Life on Mars from Hunky Dory, by David Bowie
"Good morning, Mom!"
She exclaims, wanting to be seen.
>Celia
"Good morning, my li—"
She sees sternum, a little chest. Doesn't matter that they aren't mountains—she sees skin. Like how those crazy girls dress without a bra, that supposed new fashion trend making women clutch their chests.
"My God!"
Abby had already walked past by then, heading straight to the table where her father sat with a coffee cup, today's newspaper, waiting for the eggs and bacon that already smelled delicious.
>Abby
"Dad!" -she felt daring, she wanted to show her rebelliousness-
>Thomas
"Good morning, Abby."
He replied dryly, without taking his eyes off the newspaper. He was still thinking.
>Abby
"Daaad." -she doesn't give up- "What are you reading?"
>Thomas
"The newspaper."
>Abby
"Ahem..."
Celia comes out from behind, peeking nervously from the kitchen. She doesn't know what to say, she knows she should intervene, but at the same time, sticking her nose in would make them see Abby... like this.
"Look at me!"
Another sigh escaped the man. He lowered the newspaper, and his eyes almost popped out of their sockets when he saw his daughter with her breasts almost bare, like a harlot, smiling like an idiot while her hands separated from her body with palms wide open. As if saying 'this is me'.
>Thomas
"Abigail." -he said as he stood up- "Button that up and go put on a bra this instant!"
>Abby
"Huh?! But Dad-"
>Thomas
"SILENCE!" -Abby flinched slightly- "I won't let any daughter of mine dress like a... A... Whore." -he said, pointing-
>Abby
"..." -her eyes widened for a second- "..." -silence, she put on a normal face-
>Thomas
"..." -he breathed-
Abby lowered her gaze but not her defenses, she buttoned her shirt up to her neck, and went upstairs without saying anything. She had a lot to say, she thought, but nothing came out. She left, observed by Celia on her way, who looked at her with a sad face. Thomas slowly returned to his seat, the weight of his own words seemed to leave him not knowing where to look either. He took refuge in Celia's face, but she looked somewhat sad.
"..."
Better, he looked at the newspaper.
...
>Abby
"Is all I've done just being a whore?" -she asked the mirror as she put on her bra- "Is loving, perhaps, the conduct of a whore...?" -it hurt her to be pigeonholed with that word, maybe she would have been indifferent, but she felt that an insult from Dad hurt much more- "Woe is me... Father, why have you turned this beautiful morning into a tragedy?"
She felt like crying. She didn't, she didn't want to start the great day like this. She put on the same clothes, now with the shapes approved by her dad, and went downstairs again. She served herself some cereal, Mom had already served food to the rest. They were all seated, in a strange silence. Abigail ate with her head down, without any witty remarks. In silence.
(The silence is heavy.)
She was doing it on purpose, she wanted the silence to weigh more than anything else. Thomas couldn't help but glance at her from time to time, he didn't understand her. She looked melancholic, with downcast eyes and lips set in a calculated seriousness. And, ironically, the most uncomfortable one turned out to be Celia.
>Celia
"...Don't you want me to cook you something, sweetie? Are you really just having cereal?"
>Abby
(Nothing. Just cereal.)
She thinks it, doesn't want to speak.
>Thomas
"Answer your mother." –he commands–
>Celia
"C-carrie..."
>Abby
"..." –pauses mid-spoonful– "...no, nothing."
>Celia
sigh "You're sure?"
>Abby
"Nothing." –repeats, choosing the most uncomfortable word possible–
>Celia
"Hm..."
>Thomas
"Ja... Your loss." –they don't even look– "Eggs and bacon are the best." –Abby finishes the bite– "You don't even know how to eat something good." –Abby chews– "..." –mumbles–
>Celia
"Jaja..." –fakes a laugh at Thomas's comment to lighten the mood– "ehm... Dad." –tries to change the subject– "Did you watch anything interesting on TV last night...?"
And so they pass another while in nothingness. Until Thomas finally lets some of his resentment fade.
>Thomas
"Uh... don't you wanna go to Simulatron or...?"
>Celia
"Oh, great idea!" –exclaims, genuinely cheerful–
>Abby
"Nah..." –this time, genuine–
>Celia
"Oh..." –feels like she's been slapped down–
>Thomas
"What, no?"
Celia
"Who could it be?" –gets up, unwilling to miss a chance to get scammed, though she might score a new vacuum cleaner–
Celia/Thomas
"Oh!" / "What?" –one is surprised, the other also, but less pleasantly. Abby bolts down and runs to the door at the cry of 'I'll get it!'
Abigail stopped short before the wall stopped hiding her, then stepped out with a balletic lateral leap, full of grace, ending with hands at her sides as she finally saw who stood at the end of the hall.
"¡!" –a hesitation, like a choked guttural sound. A glottal stop. She straightened up and composed herself, flashing a smile at her grandmother for an instant before turning back to her teacher–
<Good morning, Abby.
"Good morning..."
Her words were like watercolors, activating a tone drenched in sighs, watered down by love. She runs a hand through her hair, adjusting it slightly without dropping the smile.
<I brought this. You left it at school yesterday, and I don't blame you, with everything that happened…
"Oh... Right. The morning was a Greek tragedy... But the ending was... hopeful."
(Tell him to just leave it there...)
She thought, since they lived in an area where they could easily leave the door open. That's what Abigail believed. But even if she didn't know, she walked down, with a better idea. She reached out and went for the doorknob, accidentally brushing Robin's hand
"Sorry..."
She was seeking contact. Her hand holds the bicycle. The closeness excites her, yet she prefers to step back a little—safe distance to talk to a police officer without interference (3 meters)—giving her hero a pleased glance.
"Thank you so much... You're very thoughtful. Quite the gentleman." -she flatters as much as she can-
<And I'm sorry.
"Huh?" -she's surprised- "And why on earth should you be sorry?" -alarm fills her, had she been deceived perhaps? Her world wobbles-
<I had to check your files to find out where you live.
Abby sighed at the privacy violation as if a truck’s weight had lifted from her shoulders. She now knows Robin is aware of her dust mite allergy, her home phone number, and of course, her address. Basic things in a relationship.
<I thought about going door to door asking, but I always get lost in the suburbs, everything looks so... similar.
"I understand." -she said, raising her gaze, with a silly smile that won't fade- "Monotony can be disorienting, confusing, and in a painting, almost dull." -almost, because while it would limit your creativity to repetition, redoing the same thing multiple times has its charm- "Don't apologize for that. Really. It's a very sweet gesture. That you went through the trouble... Shouldn't I be the one apologizing, perhaps? I'd ask Minerva right now."
She consulted the man because heaven and Rome were too far away. She's glad Robin knows where she lives. And from this situation, only one thing slightly saddens her: not knowing where he lives. So slightly, though, that it doesn't bother her, because she knows that if she keeps walking through the tunnel, in the end they'll be together and share everything. They're connected, they just need to move forward.
<Why don't you come in and talk more comfortably?
Abby's lips form a delicate circle from surprise, mirroring her teacher's. But she relaxes more quickly, breaking into a broad, almost mischievous smile as the grandmother invites him inside.
(I love you, grandma...)
<Don't even mention it! Abby, tell your mother to set another place at the table.
"Right away." -she turns with the bike, then glances over her shoulder- "Mom told me to ask for whatever you'd like for breakfast~ I'll get you a great breakfast." -she winks at him-
She walks. Crosses the doorway, turns once more.
"Sorry, I know clarifying this feels anticlimactic after what I just said. But I think I haven't made it clear enough: I want you to come in now. I don't like ambiguous scripts." -she lets out a little laugh, waiting for him to enter the house-
2/3
Keksito, this feels strangely politicized
a small conversation arose among parents seeing the fervor with which the girl rushed to answer the door. and it was already reaching its end, and of course, drawing conclusions.
>Celia
"maybe she was waiting for someone... special." -she admits it; her girl is growing up-
>Thomas
"she never told me anything about that." -he's less accepting-
and then, the little one enters the scene. walking with an entirely different air than when she left, intoxicated by a love that makes her smile, raise her finger, and speak with more sweetness than sugar.
>Celia
"abby!" -she calls out; thomas just stares, subjecting her to jealous scrutiny-
>Abby
"mother, please, make a little more room in the flavor of the morning! a chair, a plate, and serve your finest breakfast dish... for excess."
>Celia
"ah, yes my queen." -she gets up- "are you going to eat?"
>Abby
"it's for a guest, truth be told. the lie discarded." -she asked robin to wait before introducing him; she'd call him in as soon as she was done; thomas was already frowning-
>Celia
"oh!" -she's a bit delighted, feeling she was right... her daughter has fallen in love- "and who is it?" -she asks to see him-
>Abby
-looks behind her- "dear professor robin, please, come forward~"
and so, he steps forward into the spotlight. his presence shocks everyone in the room; celia's eyes fly open, horrified for a second; thomas crushes the newspaper as if witnessing a crime. robin, with his androgynous beauty that abby adores, was not without controversy in a conservative household.
>Celia
"i'll go cook."
she steps away. not knowing what to think, it takes her a second even to look properly and understand that her daughter isn't some sick deviant drawn to this long-haired man's delicate features. she must sort her thoughts; she'll make a grand breakfast for him... but she needs every second in the kitchen to recompose herself.
>Abby
"see? mother will make a breakfast beyond delicious—you can believe it. i'm as delicate with food as i am with painting. please, follow me." -she invites him to sit, leading him by the wrist, pours him some orange juice, and sits beside him-
thomas glares murder at the other man. struggling so his quick-trigger side doesn't make him draw immediately. abby gazes up at the professor with the same eyes she uses to admire art. and it enrages him. he doesn't know whether he's more upset by how the guy looks or by how his daughter looks at him—but it doesn't matter.
"well... i couldn't introduce you to mom. but... this is my grandpa josh." -points with her hand- "and how venerable he is. i respect him, even if he's from another era." -leans in to whisper- "but he doesn't want me to help him with that oatmeal he struggles to bring to his mouth. jiji"
>Thomas
"abigail!" -he scolds her for the closeness; she returns to her seat somewhat reluctantly, looks at her dad with mild discomfort, but decides to smile; the moment with robin is a balm for everything else-
>Abby
"he's my father, thomas. dad is a... ahem. agent."
>Thomas
"police."
>Abby
"ah. that's right. but he's one of the groovies, isn't he?"
>Thomas
"what was your name again?" -he asks the professor-
Robin!
"And what exactly did you come here for...?"
>Abby
"He brought me my bicycle. And later, we're going to the Simulatron together." —she just made that up—
>Thomas
"What?!?" —that catches him off guard, anger replaced by pure confusion and surprise at such a revelation—
Celia returns a little while later. She refills everyone's orange juice if it's gone below half. And she places before Robin a gorgeous plate: two eggs with runny yolks, pancakes topped with melted butter drenched in maple syrup, two large strips of bacon, and a large toast cut diagonally in half so it looks like two.
>Abby
"Thank you so much, Mom." —she's cheerful—
After that, she sits back down, with a somewhat nervous smile, yet more accepting.
>Celia
"Sorry for the wait... Did I miss anything?"
>Thomas
"Nothing..." —still staring at the guy— "hey. And you... 'Robin', right...?" —says the name with a mocking tone— "why the fuck don't you cut those filthy greasy locks like a real man?" —Abby is already frowning— "You're not one of those dirty queers, are you?"
>Celia
"Dear..." —gets tense—
>Abby
"I assure you he's not!" —raises a finger— "Professor Robin is... very masculine..." —her other hand wanders, and somehow reaches her professor's knee, gently caressing it, then his thigh—
>Thomas
"Oh yeah? Doesn't look like it to me. You know being a faggot is illegal, right?" I suppose back then it was illegal in nearly every state. Unless Steppenford happens to be one of the 4 states that had just legalized it, which would fuck up this dialogue lol "Don't wanna spend two years in a cell. Or do you? I've heard queers have a rough time in there—"
>Abby
"Dad!" —stops touching Robin abruptly—
>Thomas
"What? I was just asking."
>Abby
"You're embarrassing me... Professor Robin is..." —touches her heart, blushing— "special... to me..."
>Celia
"!!"
>Thomas
"..." —takes a deep breath, suddenly stands up— "I gotta go to work."
>Celia
"Dear—" —stands up too, but he was already gone. Celia sighs; there was nothing to do when he got like this... she sits back down—
>Abby
sigh of ugh what a drag "sorry about him... I'm afraid in the end, he's just another one of those cops..." —eyes closed, indignant—
>Celia
sad sigh "Abby..." —this girl...—
>Abby
"Anyway... Robin, this is my mom. Celia."
>Celia
"Pleasure to meet you..." —despite everything— "Abby really enjoys painting... I suppose that's something you taught her." —she says "painting"— "uh... thank you for that."
Abby always felt she had the talent, but she wouldn't discredit Robin's help.
"And..." —just making conversation— "what... ahem..." —wanted to ask what his intentions were with her daughter, but that didn't seem like the best word— "what kind of connection do you two have?"
Abby tenses up. That was a question she was extremely interested in. Meanwhile, some oatmeal spills onto Celia's blouse.
"Oh Dad... seriously, don't you want a little help with that...?"
3/3
Now I can finally rest in peace.
Thanks so much Steppenfoooord sorry for so little
>Celia
"maybe she was waiting for someone... special." -she admits it; her girl is growing up-
>Thomas
"she never told me anything about that." -he's less accepting-
and then, the little one enters the scene. walking with an entirely different air than when she left, intoxicated by a love that makes her smile, raise her finger, and speak with more sweetness than sugar.
>Celia
"abby!" -she calls out; thomas just stares, subjecting her to jealous scrutiny-
>Abby
"mother, please, make a little more room in the flavor of the morning! a chair, a plate, and serve your finest breakfast dish... for excess."
>Celia
"ah, yes my queen." -she gets up- "are you going to eat?"
>Abby
"it's for a guest, truth be told. the lie discarded." -she asked robin to wait before introducing him; she'd call him in as soon as she was done; thomas was already frowning-
>Celia
"oh!" -she's a bit delighted, feeling she was right... her daughter has fallen in love- "and who is it?" -she asks to see him-
>Abby
-looks behind her- "dear professor robin, please, come forward~"
and so, he steps forward into the spotlight. his presence shocks everyone in the room; celia's eyes fly open, horrified for a second; thomas crushes the newspaper as if witnessing a crime. robin, with his androgynous beauty that abby adores, was not without controversy in a conservative household.
>Celia
"i'll go cook."
she steps away. not knowing what to think, it takes her a second even to look properly and understand that her daughter isn't some sick deviant drawn to this long-haired man's delicate features. she must sort her thoughts; she'll make a grand breakfast for him... but she needs every second in the kitchen to recompose herself.
>Abby
"see? mother will make a breakfast beyond delicious—you can believe it. i'm as delicate with food as i am with painting. please, follow me." -she invites him to sit, leading him by the wrist, pours him some orange juice, and sits beside him-
thomas glares murder at the other man. struggling so his quick-trigger side doesn't make him draw immediately. abby gazes up at the professor with the same eyes she uses to admire art. and it enrages him. he doesn't know whether he's more upset by how the guy looks or by how his daughter looks at him—but it doesn't matter.
"well... i couldn't introduce you to mom. but... this is my grandpa josh." -points with her hand- "and how venerable he is. i respect him, even if he's from another era." -leans in to whisper- "but he doesn't want me to help him with that oatmeal he struggles to bring to his mouth. jiji"
>Thomas
"abigail!" -he scolds her for the closeness; she returns to her seat somewhat reluctantly, looks at her dad with mild discomfort, but decides to smile; the moment with robin is a balm for everything else-
>Abby
"he's my father, thomas. dad is a... ahem. agent."
>Thomas
"police."
>Abby
"ah. that's right. but he's one of the groovies, isn't he?"
>Thomas
"what was your name again?" -he asks the professor-
Robin!
"And what exactly did you come here for...?"
>Abby
"He brought me my bicycle. And later, we're going to the Simulatron together." —she just made that up—
>Thomas
"What?!?" —that catches him off guard, anger replaced by pure confusion and surprise at such a revelation—
Celia returns a little while later. She refills everyone's orange juice if it's gone below half. And she places before Robin a gorgeous plate: two eggs with runny yolks, pancakes topped with melted butter drenched in maple syrup, two large strips of bacon, and a large toast cut diagonally in half so it looks like two.
>Abby
"Thank you so much, Mom." —she's cheerful—
After that, she sits back down, with a somewhat nervous smile, yet more accepting.
>Celia
"Sorry for the wait... Did I miss anything?"
>Thomas
"Nothing..." —still staring at the guy— "hey. And you... 'Robin', right...?" —says the name with a mocking tone— "why the fuck don't you cut those filthy greasy locks like a real man?" —Abby is already frowning— "You're not one of those dirty queers, are you?"
>Celia
"Dear..." —gets tense—
>Abby
"I assure you he's not!" —raises a finger— "Professor Robin is... very masculine..." —her other hand wanders, and somehow reaches her professor's knee, gently caressing it, then his thigh—
>Thomas
"Oh yeah? Doesn't look like it to me. You know being a faggot is illegal, right?" I suppose back then it was illegal in nearly every state. Unless Steppenford happens to be one of the 4 states that had just legalized it, which would fuck up this dialogue lol "Don't wanna spend two years in a cell. Or do you? I've heard queers have a rough time in there—"
>Abby
"Dad!" —stops touching Robin abruptly—
>Thomas
"What? I was just asking."
>Abby
"You're embarrassing me... Professor Robin is..." —touches her heart, blushing— "special... to me..."
>Celia
"!!"
>Thomas
"..." —takes a deep breath, suddenly stands up— "I gotta go to work."
>Celia
"Dear—" —stands up too, but he was already gone. Celia sighs; there was nothing to do when he got like this... she sits back down—
>Abby
sigh of ugh what a drag "sorry about him... I'm afraid in the end, he's just another one of those cops..." —eyes closed, indignant—
>Celia
sad sigh "Abby..." —this girl...—
>Abby
"Anyway... Robin, this is my mom. Celia."
>Celia
"Pleasure to meet you..." —despite everything— "Abby really enjoys painting... I suppose that's something you taught her." —she says "painting"— "uh... thank you for that."
Abby always felt she had the talent, but she wouldn't discredit Robin's help.
"And..." —just making conversation— "what... ahem..." —wanted to ask what his intentions were with her daughter, but that didn't seem like the best word— "what kind of connection do you two have?"
Abby tenses up. That was a question she was extremely interested in. Meanwhile, some oatmeal spills onto Celia's blouse.
"Oh Dad... seriously, don't you want a little help with that...?"
3/3
Now I can finally rest in peace.
Thanks so much Steppenfoooord sorry for so little
>>2780 →
<David Stanford (Time: Indeterminate. Date: March, year 1973)
HP: 100/100
Energy: 50/50
Hunger: 20/20 - Thirst: 20/20
-Strength: 3
-Agility: 3
-Stamina: 3
-Luck: 2
Inventory
-Secret pockets 2/6
Truck keys
x17 Dollars
Spells:
-Eye of Resonance (Reads the soul imprint of beings like yourself. -2 energy per minute)
Techniques:
-Demonic Suction: Renders enemy unconscious for 6 hours. Enemy must be in a state of suggestion or weakness to succeed (Does not work on creatures too large)
Stepford
Static cuts the screen, a storm of snow encapsulated. Abe removes the semi-transparent panel and smacks the television. The image clears, but instead of showing two pixels of light, it displays a strange music video.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kjxSCAalsBE
▶
You feel a tingling in your perineum. Something in the ether has changed. Maybe it's a message from the lower astral—omen of future blessing or warning of ill fortune?
Abe takes off his cap to scratch his scalp, theorizing the antenna picked up a signal from some other house. Unlike you, he's a skeptic of magic, but no science book or conspiranoia could prepare him when the window explodes from an impact, and a dark-winged bird of prey bounces and flaps against the wooden floor, then stands up and starts pecking at the glass.
Hands on the wheel, eyes on the dirt road, you can't stop thinking about what happened at your parents' house. Julia said it was a crow, but you're certain it was a Yata-Garasu. To make things worse, a pimple popped up on your nose—another sign?
Abe: O-over there.
You turn into the woods only for the truck, with a jolt, to end up tilted and sinking into a path with deceptive firmness, swallowing it like quicksand. Annabel Lee, the porcelain doll, lifts her gaze from the book on her tiny legs and points forward with her little white hand to say:
Insanity.
Among the shadows of clustered trees, you spot a scarlet egg pulsing like a heart. Abe says it wasn't there before. You try to reverse, but the truck sinks deeper, and you shift your gaze from the egg to the ground, where red grass—actually tendrils—waves, welcoming you. Abe opens the door, but Annabel Lee warns them they must not step onto the Havester's trap.
Abe crawls to the back seats, lifts a boot, and kicks out the rear window. They move to the cargo area and from there make the best leap possible to escape the egg's zone of influence. You know they've succeeded when the earth doesn't devour them.
During your frantic escape, you left the Melanicus and other belongings behind. As you glance back with Annabel Lee under your arm, you watch the vehicle sink and vanish beneath the ground. The last thing you see is the license plate. The egg remains waiting beyond, among the slender tree trunks, patient.
What evil will hatch?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rc-PocF6-9o
▶
At the end of March, Abe and you stole a new pickup truck to escape the pandemonium. Amid screams and burning houses, hands reached out trying to stop you, leaving bloody trails across cracked windows—but you never stopped accelerating. On every one of those manic faces chasing you, the mark of a raw, bleeding cross was visible.
Abe, upright in the passenger seat, without his cap or mask, his eyes heavy with dark circles fixed on the road, begins reciting without stumbling:
And thus they recognized the presence of the Red Death.
It had come like a thief in the night.
And one by one the guests fell in the blood-stained orgy halls,
each dying in the desperate posture of their fall.
And the life of the ebony clock died with the last of those joyous beings.
And the flames of the tripods expired.
And darkness, and decay, and the Red Death ruled over all.
The forest pulls you away from the chaos. You drive to a distant cliff from where you can glimpse the town. From within the smoke rises a giant, its hollow head touching the clouds, its tentacles waving shadows capable of stretching across all of Stepford. Abe touches your shoulder to get your attention, then points at the horizon with a trembling finger.
Abe: T-t-the f-f-four h-h-horsemen of the f-f-f-finish.
Black helicopters approach and circle the city, swirling like swarming flies above a fresh corpse. You suspected there were more than four, but just as you were counting, a blinding electric flash blinds you.
The outline of the dome is visible for only a few seconds before it shields itself through transference. The torso separates from the giant, dropping chunks of flesh, but instead of collapsing, it uses its tentacles to lift itself and carefully descend from the dome, while its cyclopean legs remain still and upright inside the dome.
As your mind struggles to process what you’ve seen, several questions come to you:
What will you do with your life? How will you live? Will you tell others what you saw in Stepford?
...
I know it's a bit late. But anon's reply to Abby inspired me to give both of them an epilogue.
<David Stanford (Time: Indeterminate. Date: March, year 1973)
HP: 100/100
Energy: 50/50
Hunger: 20/20 - Thirst: 20/20
-Strength: 3
-Agility: 3
-Stamina: 3
-Luck: 2
Inventory
-Secret pockets 2/6
Truck keys
x17 Dollars
Spells:
-Eye of Resonance (Reads the soul imprint of beings like yourself. -2 energy per minute)
Techniques:
-Demonic Suction: Renders enemy unconscious for 6 hours. Enemy must be in a state of suggestion or weakness to succeed (Does not work on creatures too large)
Stepford
Static cuts the screen, a storm of snow encapsulated. Abe removes the semi-transparent panel and smacks the television. The image clears, but instead of showing two pixels of light, it displays a strange music video.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kjxSCAalsBE
▶You feel a tingling in your perineum. Something in the ether has changed. Maybe it's a message from the lower astral—omen of future blessing or warning of ill fortune?
Abe takes off his cap to scratch his scalp, theorizing the antenna picked up a signal from some other house. Unlike you, he's a skeptic of magic, but no science book or conspiranoia could prepare him when the window explodes from an impact, and a dark-winged bird of prey bounces and flaps against the wooden floor, then stands up and starts pecking at the glass.
Hands on the wheel, eyes on the dirt road, you can't stop thinking about what happened at your parents' house. Julia said it was a crow, but you're certain it was a Yata-Garasu. To make things worse, a pimple popped up on your nose—another sign?
Abe: O-over there.
You turn into the woods only for the truck, with a jolt, to end up tilted and sinking into a path with deceptive firmness, swallowing it like quicksand. Annabel Lee, the porcelain doll, lifts her gaze from the book on her tiny legs and points forward with her little white hand to say:
Insanity.
Among the shadows of clustered trees, you spot a scarlet egg pulsing like a heart. Abe says it wasn't there before. You try to reverse, but the truck sinks deeper, and you shift your gaze from the egg to the ground, where red grass—actually tendrils—waves, welcoming you. Abe opens the door, but Annabel Lee warns them they must not step onto the Havester's trap.
Abe crawls to the back seats, lifts a boot, and kicks out the rear window. They move to the cargo area and from there make the best leap possible to escape the egg's zone of influence. You know they've succeeded when the earth doesn't devour them.
During your frantic escape, you left the Melanicus and other belongings behind. As you glance back with Annabel Lee under your arm, you watch the vehicle sink and vanish beneath the ground. The last thing you see is the license plate. The egg remains waiting beyond, among the slender tree trunks, patient.
What evil will hatch?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rc-PocF6-9o
▶At the end of March, Abe and you stole a new pickup truck to escape the pandemonium. Amid screams and burning houses, hands reached out trying to stop you, leaving bloody trails across cracked windows—but you never stopped accelerating. On every one of those manic faces chasing you, the mark of a raw, bleeding cross was visible.
Abe, upright in the passenger seat, without his cap or mask, his eyes heavy with dark circles fixed on the road, begins reciting without stumbling:
And thus they recognized the presence of the Red Death.
It had come like a thief in the night.
And one by one the guests fell in the blood-stained orgy halls,
each dying in the desperate posture of their fall.
And the life of the ebony clock died with the last of those joyous beings.
And the flames of the tripods expired.
And darkness, and decay, and the Red Death ruled over all.
The forest pulls you away from the chaos. You drive to a distant cliff from where you can glimpse the town. From within the smoke rises a giant, its hollow head touching the clouds, its tentacles waving shadows capable of stretching across all of Stepford. Abe touches your shoulder to get your attention, then points at the horizon with a trembling finger.
Abe: T-t-the f-f-four h-h-horsemen of the f-f-f-finish.
Black helicopters approach and circle the city, swirling like swarming flies above a fresh corpse. You suspected there were more than four, but just as you were counting, a blinding electric flash blinds you.
The outline of the dome is visible for only a few seconds before it shields itself through transference. The torso separates from the giant, dropping chunks of flesh, but instead of collapsing, it uses its tentacles to lift itself and carefully descend from the dome, while its cyclopean legs remain still and upright inside the dome.
As your mind struggles to process what you’ve seen, several questions come to you:
What will you do with your life? How will you live? Will you tell others what you saw in Stepford?
...
I know it's a bit late. But anon's reply to Abby inspired me to give both of them an epilogue.
The old gods are dead or sleeping. Their believers today are so distant from their legends that they have heard them only as tales passed down through generations, and none personally know the times when they still walked with their creations. They simply follow the same rituals that were taught to the ancestors of their ancestors without really knowing why they do them, for whom they do them, or if those gods to whom they pay tribute still exist or ever did. They simply believe, because a lack of belief leads to rebellion, conscious or unconscious. And you? What do you do? The same as always, you live in the midst of all this.
https://youtu.be/j8IX0CXvT0M?si=657YMPBJWZTfLeun
▶
Welcome to Riverveil, an ordinary town on the edge of Arizona where ancient traditions are preserved, but above all, the sanctity of the "Veil." For longer than humanity has existed, the world has been inhabited by entities beyond its comprehension, which only live in harmony with it after bloody battles between the most outstanding exponents of their species. These concluded in a kind of millennial truce in which most of these beings retired to their own domains to rest, allowing others with whom humanity is more familiar, and some with whom it is not, to live in peace. The end of these wars was the origin of what is now known as the "Veil."
The Veil of night, as thin as the silk from which the veil protecting a bride's face from the curious eyes of her future husband during the ceremony is made, is the modern world's last defense against the chaos that threatens to destabilize it. For a period of just 8 hours each night, all the evils that humanity as a whole must not know are free to roam under the moonlight and do with this freedom whatever their instinct or will dictates. To keep at bay all who seek to break the fragile balance in which the world finds itself, there are numerous organizations, groups, and independent agents of order who, with weapons, arcane knowledge, and their own inherited or acquired curses, fight directly or indirectly every night and day.
Awakening the ancient gods, attracting an external one, destroying the current order to build a new one upon its ruins in which they reign supreme... the reasons why a creature of the night attempts, consciously or unconsciously, to break the veil and provoke global changes are as varied as these beings themselves. He who intends to hunt down the various agents of chaos or simply live peacefully amidst their plans and the actions of those who try to thwart them needs to know how to fend for himself. That is the case for all who know the secrets that many prefer to keep hidden.
>Character Sheet
Stats: 10 points to distribute as you wish.
Item (Optional):
https://youtu.be/j8IX0CXvT0M?si=657YMPBJWZTfLeun
▶Welcome to Riverveil, an ordinary town on the edge of Arizona where ancient traditions are preserved, but above all, the sanctity of the "Veil." For longer than humanity has existed, the world has been inhabited by entities beyond its comprehension, which only live in harmony with it after bloody battles between the most outstanding exponents of their species. These concluded in a kind of millennial truce in which most of these beings retired to their own domains to rest, allowing others with whom humanity is more familiar, and some with whom it is not, to live in peace. The end of these wars was the origin of what is now known as the "Veil."
The Veil of night, as thin as the silk from which the veil protecting a bride's face from the curious eyes of her future husband during the ceremony is made, is the modern world's last defense against the chaos that threatens to destabilize it. For a period of just 8 hours each night, all the evils that humanity as a whole must not know are free to roam under the moonlight and do with this freedom whatever their instinct or will dictates. To keep at bay all who seek to break the fragile balance in which the world finds itself, there are numerous organizations, groups, and independent agents of order who, with weapons, arcane knowledge, and their own inherited or acquired curses, fight directly or indirectly every night and day.
Awakening the ancient gods, attracting an external one, destroying the current order to build a new one upon its ruins in which they reign supreme... the reasons why a creature of the night attempts, consciously or unconsciously, to break the veil and provoke global changes are as varied as these beings themselves. He who intends to hunt down the various agents of chaos or simply live peacefully amidst their plans and the actions of those who try to thwart them needs to know how to fend for himself. That is the case for all who know the secrets that many prefer to keep hidden.
>Character Sheet
Stats: 10 points to distribute as you wish.
Item (Optional):
>>2541 →
>Lev
"¿The only thing you can do?"
"..."
"Breaking things is very easy. Repairing... 'ehh', not so much"
"It has quite a value, don't despise that sacred gift"
What I meant by that, who knows. But after saying goodbye and leaving that Jesu' monastery, I walk a few steps along the lonely streets, until I notice how the sun rises on the horizon.
"Good morning"
I say with a smile while I cover my face a bit with my hand, so I can see without the sun blinding me. It should have been like 5 or 6 in the morning, and I was quite tired, so I was just walking to my temple, my home, my... home. It was a productive day, although tomorrow (today) I would have to start to... do that. Slowly I arrive at that abandoned shack, an old bus stop covered in rust, in an area where there was no longer a street, just grassy fields up to my chest, and my presence. I lie down on the bench, and I just look at the rusted tin roof while time passes... I want to scratch my hand, but I don't do it, for now.
>Lev
"¿The only thing you can do?"
"..."
"Breaking things is very easy. Repairing... 'ehh', not so much"
"It has quite a value, don't despise that sacred gift"
What I meant by that, who knows. But after saying goodbye and leaving that Jesu' monastery, I walk a few steps along the lonely streets, until I notice how the sun rises on the horizon.
"Good morning"
I say with a smile while I cover my face a bit with my hand, so I can see without the sun blinding me. It should have been like 5 or 6 in the morning, and I was quite tired, so I was just walking to my temple, my home, my... home. It was a productive day, although tomorrow (today) I would have to start to... do that. Slowly I arrive at that abandoned shack, an old bus stop covered in rust, in an area where there was no longer a street, just grassy fields up to my chest, and my presence. I lie down on the bench, and I just look at the rusted tin roof while time passes... I want to scratch my hand, but I don't do it, for now.
>>2542 →
Sleeping outdoors is especially dangerous on cold days like these, and with how poorly protected your shelter is from the elements, you might as well be sleeping outside. Fortunately or by miracle, it seems like it hasn't rained or snowed during the time you've been resting, since you wake up, alive and relatively dry, at some indeterminate time in the afternoon, you can assume.
<Someone: Good afternoon.
Someone's voice confirms your assumptions, or to be more precise, not the voice of someone random, but the unmistakable voice of someone you know and who you know has trouble pronouncing certain esses.
<Someone: An empanada?
He offers you the already cold dough with a bare hand, without a plate or napkin due to lack of resources. This is something he often does, since he, like you, lacks the means to refrigerate or preserve food for long periods. Usually he trades it or shares it with whoever gives him something of use or at least thanks.
<Someone: Of meat, it's the last one I have left.
The rusty cart he uses to carry his food and other goods isn't any cleaner than him, the few Tupperware containers he brings are also in poor condition due to the lack of water and soap to wash them frequently and the fact that he often mixes them up with his other clutter, as he's doing right now.
<Someone: The other one I traded for this... but...
After asking you to wait and search through his things for a while, he takes out two fruits.
<Someone: Pera. Do you want one?
He offers you one of the pears and keeps the other, covering the cart and his things with a somewhat cleaner sheet than the rest.
<Someone: I'm going to keep the seed and plant it outside of my box. When the tree grows, I'll eat pear all day.
He tells you with a smile of rotten teeth that doesn't do much to grace his unfortunate face.
<Someone: I can give you one too.
Despite his ugliness, intellectual deficiency, vagrancy, disease, and oddness, the people in the community see him as a kind person due to these customs of sharing what little he has with others without harboring ambitions to possess more. The people call him Angel, obviously because he has a name and isn't just called "Someone," although it's unclear if that's his real name or some nickname.
At times in the afternoon, he usually passes by these remote areas of the city to pick up whatever he finds discarded out of sight of the officials who would bother to enforce the law that prohibits people from rummaging through trash containers. You also know he lives under the bridge in the center near other homeless people, although you don't know exactly what conditions he lives in or what he does with the debris he collects, if anything besides just accumulating it.
The sentence is good, but it alone doesn't fill the stomach, and it's already late enough to take something to your mouth without it counting as breaking the fast, your body knows you need it. It's also late enough for the free soup to start being served behind the church, if you prefer a more complete meal.
Sleeping outdoors is especially dangerous on cold days like these, and with how poorly protected your shelter is from the elements, you might as well be sleeping outside. Fortunately or by miracle, it seems like it hasn't rained or snowed during the time you've been resting, since you wake up, alive and relatively dry, at some indeterminate time in the afternoon, you can assume.
<Someone: Good afternoon.
Someone's voice confirms your assumptions, or to be more precise, not the voice of someone random, but the unmistakable voice of someone you know and who you know has trouble pronouncing certain esses.
<Someone: An empanada?
He offers you the already cold dough with a bare hand, without a plate or napkin due to lack of resources. This is something he often does, since he, like you, lacks the means to refrigerate or preserve food for long periods. Usually he trades it or shares it with whoever gives him something of use or at least thanks.
<Someone: Of meat, it's the last one I have left.
The rusty cart he uses to carry his food and other goods isn't any cleaner than him, the few Tupperware containers he brings are also in poor condition due to the lack of water and soap to wash them frequently and the fact that he often mixes them up with his other clutter, as he's doing right now.
<Someone: The other one I traded for this... but...
After asking you to wait and search through his things for a while, he takes out two fruits.
<Someone: Pera. Do you want one?
He offers you one of the pears and keeps the other, covering the cart and his things with a somewhat cleaner sheet than the rest.
<Someone: I'm going to keep the seed and plant it outside of my box. When the tree grows, I'll eat pear all day.
He tells you with a smile of rotten teeth that doesn't do much to grace his unfortunate face.
<Someone: I can give you one too.
Despite his ugliness, intellectual deficiency, vagrancy, disease, and oddness, the people in the community see him as a kind person due to these customs of sharing what little he has with others without harboring ambitions to possess more. The people call him Angel, obviously because he has a name and isn't just called "Someone," although it's unclear if that's his real name or some nickname.
At times in the afternoon, he usually passes by these remote areas of the city to pick up whatever he finds discarded out of sight of the officials who would bother to enforce the law that prohibits people from rummaging through trash containers. You also know he lives under the bridge in the center near other homeless people, although you don't know exactly what conditions he lives in or what he does with the debris he collects, if anything besides just accumulating it.
The sentence is good, but it alone doesn't fill the stomach, and it's already late enough to take something to your mouth without it counting as breaking the fast, your body knows you need it. It's also late enough for the free soup to start being served behind the church, if you prefer a more complete meal.
>>2543 →
The night was tough, as cold as the touch of the moon, so beautiful and distinct, but shining without burning your retinas, in such celestial humility, allowing the mortal to contemplate its delicacy. But yes, towards cold, quite cold, maybe it wouldn't rain or snow, but the serenity of the night, froze the being accompanied by the winds of the hills.
My body was trembling, realizing I was sleeping. I've always had trouble with insomnia, but after "That", I've barely managed to blink. But the cold wasn't really what was disturbing my sleep this time, but rather thinking about the helpless one, who has no house, roof or luxury, sleeps under the cruel cold of the elements. That made me sad, and that made me tremble more than the cold.
When I wanted to remember, the sun had already risen and the sky was clear. I yawned and got up from that bench. I looked at myself in the broken mirror, poorly lit, and took a can of powdered milk, mixed it with water and heated it in my gas stove. With that, I threw some blocks of chocolatehomemade, and stirred with a spoon while I looked at the landscape and listened to the birds singing. The good thing about getting up late is that you automatically fast, skipping directly to the snack and lunch.
"..?"
"Buenas tardes buen hombre"
Angels always appear at these moments. Despite what popular culture mentions, they don't shine physically, but shine in spirit, because they are so humble that when they come into the world of mortal offspring, they leave their halo in the closet. I see as he offers me a empanada, I smiled and accepted his charity, and in exchange I read fresh a cup with hot chocolate to warm up and give energy. Those who have the least are the ones who give the most, one of the many mysteries of this merciless world
"Many thanks, seriously"
"Take it, it's good"
"Be careful, it's still hot"
I take a sip of my hot chocolate, this warm and reanimates the tired soul, without leaving you alert and paranoid like cheap coffee. I wait while I take another sip until I see as he takes a pear. I observe, observe the fruit and give a friendly smile
"Oh, thanks thanks, but, I already have enough"
"Keep it for someone else who needs it more than me, or for you"
"But still I am infinitely grateful"
''I reject it politely, because I was already rich, and I didn't need more abundance. Then I hear as he tells me that magnificent idea of planting a pear tree, and eating pears every day.
"That... That is a beautiful idea. You are someone very intelligent"
"You will see how that tree will grow, and you will have fresh fruit"
"I know, wait a moment:."
I enter my house and look for a small glass jar with several seeds inside, and go outside to give it to him
"They are flower seeds, they grow fast and smell good. While you wait for the pear tree to grow, they will be your company''
With that I give him a friendly pat on the shoulder to continue his way, and I stay alone eating the empanada while I look at the horizon. I thank in my prayer, and I get up from the ground. I enter my house, grab a bit of water from my bucket and wash my face, then go out to walk and water the flowers behind my "house" with this water. I was going to the church because free food is free food. Also I wanted to see if someone needed my help because my hands are the only thing I can offer. Maybe I would ask the nun who serves food if they need help with something. Anything. Nail some planks, paint a wall, look for something, serve food.'
The night was tough, as cold as the touch of the moon, so beautiful and distinct, but shining without burning your retinas, in such celestial humility, allowing the mortal to contemplate its delicacy. But yes, towards cold, quite cold, maybe it wouldn't rain or snow, but the serenity of the night, froze the being accompanied by the winds of the hills.
My body was trembling, realizing I was sleeping. I've always had trouble with insomnia, but after "That", I've barely managed to blink. But the cold wasn't really what was disturbing my sleep this time, but rather thinking about the helpless one, who has no house, roof or luxury, sleeps under the cruel cold of the elements. That made me sad, and that made me tremble more than the cold.
When I wanted to remember, the sun had already risen and the sky was clear. I yawned and got up from that bench. I looked at myself in the broken mirror, poorly lit, and took a can of powdered milk, mixed it with water and heated it in my gas stove. With that, I threw some blocks of chocolate
"..?"
"Buenas tardes buen hombre"
Angels always appear at these moments. Despite what popular culture mentions, they don't shine physically, but shine in spirit, because they are so humble that when they come into the world of mortal offspring, they leave their halo in the closet. I see as he offers me a empanada, I smiled and accepted his charity, and in exchange I read fresh a cup with hot chocolate to warm up and give energy. Those who have the least are the ones who give the most, one of the many mysteries of this merciless world
"Many thanks, seriously"
"Take it, it's good"
"Be careful, it's still hot"
I take a sip of my hot chocolate, this warm and reanimates the tired soul, without leaving you alert and paranoid like cheap coffee. I wait while I take another sip until I see as he takes a pear. I observe, observe the fruit and give a friendly smile
"Oh, thanks thanks, but, I already have enough"
"Keep it for someone else who needs it more than me, or for you"
"But still I am infinitely grateful"
''I reject it politely, because I was already rich, and I didn't need more abundance. Then I hear as he tells me that magnificent idea of planting a pear tree, and eating pears every day.
"That... That is a beautiful idea. You are someone very intelligent"
"You will see how that tree will grow, and you will have fresh fruit"
"I know, wait a moment:."
I enter my house and look for a small glass jar with several seeds inside, and go outside to give it to him
"They are flower seeds, they grow fast and smell good. While you wait for the pear tree to grow, they will be your company''
With that I give him a friendly pat on the shoulder to continue his way, and I stay alone eating the empanada while I look at the horizon. I thank in my prayer, and I get up from the ground. I enter my house, grab a bit of water from my bucket and wash my face, then go out to walk and water the flowers behind my "house" with this water. I was going to the church because free food is free food. Also I wanted to see if someone needed my help because my hands are the only thing I can offer. Maybe I would ask the nun who serves food if they need help with something. Anything. Nail some planks, paint a wall, look for something, serve food.'
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