!!rV8GTu4cyt+ 06/14/11(Tue)15:25 No.15266743|
> Yeah, I'll take pity on the poor Totemist. Averaging the rolls.
> Average total: 60
Your knife lashes out, the bitter taste of your recent failure still strong in your mouth. The stalker yelps and groans in pain as your blade carves the runes of binding into its outstretched limbs. Five, then ten, then fifteen curving, looping sigils are traced into the head, the neck, the arm, the ground around the beast. Finally, as you apply the last seal, you begin chanting the rite of binding.
"In the name of Osyki, link between this world and the world without, I hereby claim this beast's spirit as my own." you say, standing back from the thing as the runes begin to glow with a soft luminescence, visible even in the bright mid-day light. "In the name of the Totemist's Pact, I hereby assert my dominance over this soul, and claim it as my own."
You flick your knife downward to pin the other arm as it begins to move, eliciting another yowl of pain.
"I have bested this soul in mortal combat. Its strength is mine to command. By blood and bone, in spirit and soul, let this ritual blade show: I am Totemist, Link Between Worlds. Now..."
You crouch down. The knife has embedded itself in the wing membrane of the Stalker's right arm, while Modi Magni's spear pins the left. You take hold of the handles of both weapons, drawing them in an x-shaped cut across the creatures body in one swift motion.
The familiar feeling of the world slowing to a halt around you washes over you. The blade of your ritual knife is alight with verdant flames, and you can feel the power of the spiritual world coursing through you.
What part of this beast will you claim as your prize, Totemist?