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/tg/ - Traditional Games


File: Title New Cycle 2.jpg (250 KB, 900x596)
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Previous threads: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Devil%20Summoner%20London%20Quest
Character sheet: http://pastebin.com/4keHKgX4
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MolochQM

This is agony, torture of the purest sort. You feel like your ribs are buckling, bending under uncountable degrees of pressure. Any minute now, you are sure, your torso will collapse inwards, every organ in your body disintegrating like some deep sea fish brought up into a more hostile atmosphere. This is, quite simply, awful.

This is also, or so Petra claims, how you wear a corset. You're not sure how she knows that – she made a vague allusion to helping a “friend” dress, once, but left it at that – but she seemed to know best. It seemed like a few brief, but madly active seconds had passed between asking for her help and finding yourself bare from the waist up, being squeezed into this hellish contraption. Now, grunting softly with exertion, Petra tugs hard on the seemingly delicate ribbons running up the back, pulling the corset as tight just about as it can get.

Then, all of a sudden, the pain around your torso lessens as the enchanted garment finds some kind of equilibrium. You couldn't even guess how that works – perhaps Scathach, the enigmatic witch that created this thing from the bones of an angel, could tell you, or she could claim a trade secret – but you can't deny that it does, indeed, work.

Maybe Petra has the right idea about magic – accept it and move on.
>>
>>44405069

“There!” Petra announces, slapping you so hard on the back that you almost spill over, “Finished, yes? I told you I knew what I was doing!”

You never doubted her, you reply with all the sincerity you can scrape together, not for a second. With the corset pinching you tightly, you feel... strange. Solid, somehow, as if each measured breath was proof of your own existence. That'll be the magic at work, you assume as you button your shirt back up, hiding the luridly gothic piece of attire from sight. So, you muse out loud to yourself as you fumble with the buttons, what should you do today?

“I had an idea,” Petra offers, a strangely flat note in her voice, “Shopping – since, I am told, we are going outside on adventures again? Ah, but you should have brought me along, yes?”

...So she heard about that, did she?

“You carried a severed arm through the corridors,” Petra pauses, and the smile you expect to see on her face fails to appear, “People talked.” In the silence that follows her words, then, you realise that she is actually pretty upset about things.

With good reason, perhaps. Even if it wasn't some grand adventure you went on, you still went against your word. If your positions were reversed, you'd be seething about it, cursing her for treating you like a child. You open your mouth, fumbling for the right words, when Petra cuts you off.

“Guns, yes?” she suggests, “So we can fight from a distance. Less risk this way, and demons can put magic in... ah, enchant them.”

Guns, you murmur, a cold chill running down your spine at the simple word. That's not a word you've ever associated with anything good. In truth, your first instinct is to turn her down immediately, even asking her to never raise the idea again. Then again, she might know a little something about this kind of thing...

>I'm sorry, but no. No guns
>Alright, but I'll need your help
>Other
>>
>>44405074
>Alright, but I'll need your help
Guns sound good.
>>
>>44405074
>>Alright, but I'll need your help
I assume you've done this before?
>>
>>44405069
www.youtube.com/watch?v=OALGjPSwK7U
>>44405074
>>Alright, but I'll need your help
We should probably apologize at some point as well.
>>
>>44405127
>>44405109
>>44405095

Alright, you sigh after a moment's thought, but you'll need her help. You don't know the first thing about guns – you point them at stuff you want to die, but that's pretty much it – and you wouldn't even know where to find them. This is London, after all – people don't have guns here. Ignoring the laugh that Petra chokes down at your comment, you urge her to lead on. After all, it seems like she's done this before.

“Ah, yes,” Petra smiles fondly at some distant memory, “The police, you see? They keep their toys locked up tight, true, but there's no reason we can't borrow some now. Nobody to stop us either way, yes?”

That... is true, you admit as Petra leads you from the room, down and into the palace corridors. Things seem calmer now that you're not dragging around various body parts, a change for which you are truly grateful. Still, you can't help but notice Petra's posture, her shoulders stiff and tense beneath the white wings of her feather cloak. Accepting her offer has mollified her, somewhat, but she's still brooding. Looking down at her boots as she marches onwards, you clear your throat to get her attention. You ARE sorry, you stress, about how things worked out. It wasn't something you had planned on doing when you suggested the time off. So, you add after a moment of awkward silence, is she...

“I understand,” Petra nods, turning to give you a strained smile, “We cannot see these things coming, yes? And that witch has a way of taking us all by surprise. Ah, but it is all well, yes? You are unharmed, and you got something out of it.”

True, you agree, so she's cool with it?

“Hardly an unforgivable sin,” Petra shrugs, “Already forgotten. Shall we?”

You shall, you nod, as she leads on through the gates to the demon world.
>>
>>44405233

Petra definitely knows where she's going this time, leading you through twisting streets and past buildings that crumble with new corruption. This world is changing, slowly warping into something that can barely be recognised as the human world you once occupied. Even some of the streets have rearranged themselves, warping into new forms or growing shattered blockages that force you to take diversions.

Then, of course, there are the occasional chasms that mark out places where that burrowing monster has torn out the ground below. They vary in size – some small enough that you could jump over them, if you wanted to risk it, and others large enough that entire buildings have been pulled under. Someone's going to have to do something about that, you muse, or you'll all be running through tunnels rather than streets.

“Here we are!” Petra declares, pointing up at a nondescript building. It's only the discrete iconography that marks it out as a police station. Still, it seems more intact than the buildings around it, as if those slight markings offered some measure of protection – a stronger identity, to resist this world's corrupting influence, perhaps? Shaking the idea out of your mind, you notice scrawled graffiti above the door. “KEEP OUT” is painted there, in large and savage letters.

Maybe, you think out loud, this wasn't such a good idea.

“Bah!” Petra laughs, “Ignore it. Who's going to stop us?”

Maybe, you repeat uncertainly.

>Check somewhere less ominous
>Petra's right. Check here for weapons
>Other
>>
>>44405268
>Petra's right. Check here for weapons
Demons out so we don't get blindsided.

Kin-ki and Dullahan
>>
>>44405268
>Petra's right. Check here for weapons
Knock first and demons out
>>
>>44405268
>>Petra's right. Check here for weapons
Gonna take more than a little grafitti to chase us away. Demons out though:
>>44405279
>>
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>>44405279
>>44405290
>>44405296

Scraping together as much decisiveness as possible, you nod strongly. She's right, you announce, you don't see anyone here to stop you. Still, there's no point in going in totally unprepared, so you summon Kin-Ki to act as muscle. You might have to do some heavy lifting, either way, and so he'll prove useful regardless. Also, you say with a smile, there's no sense in being rude – you'll knock first, and see if there's anyone home.

Nobody answers your knock, the sound echoing quietly within the apparently empty building. Waiting a moment longer, you then try to push the door open, only for it to resist your shoves. Pulling it results in nothing, either. To come this way, only to be foiled by a locked door...

“Master,” Kin-Ki rumbles, “I've seen this kind of door before. You must give the secret knock before you can enter.”

A secret lock, you ask, is that like a code? You need to tap out a message, or something like that, before it'll open?

“Exactly,” the strongman nods, “Fortunately for you, I know the secret to opening this one!”

...He's just going to rip the door right out of the wall, isn't he?

“Of course!” he boasts, “No lock can stand in my way, and no door can resist my strength. Now watch, my master, as I reveal the secret knock!” Then, before you can even think of stopping him, Kin-Ki gives the “secret knock”. Unsurprisingly, the secret knock looks awfully like a firm kick, strong enough to blast the door off its hinges and send it tumbling away in a shower of splinters.

Well, you admit as you step gingerly into the building, it certainly worked. Now...

“Basement,” Petra suggests, “Check for a locked door.”

Another locked door. At least you brought your “lockpick”.
>>
>>44405428

As it happens, the door to the basement is already hanging open, leading down into a darkened space. Petra leads the way, stepping carefully down the stairs and fumbling for a light switch – of course, it doesn't work. Old habits, it seems, die hard. You follow her down and wait for your eyes to adjust, gasping slightly as you see the racks of weapons. Rifles, fat barrelled things that you assume are shotguns, and smaller handguns all decorate the walls here.

Only, a closer inspection reveals that most of them are ruined, melted and warped together into mingling pools of metal and plastic. Tutting under your breath, you scan the rows of destroyed weapons for any that might be intact, Petra doing the same. It's a few moments before she finds something, a small handgun, and offers it to you.

“Here,” she decides, “This would suit you, yes?”

You look at the weapon she offers to you, held out with the grip towards you and the barrel pointed carefully towards the ground. You always thought guns would be sleek things, glistening black metal with the same deadly grace as a shark. This thing is a dull grey polymer, and has the drab, utilitarian aesthetics of a Lego brick. You have little doubt that it would still kill something, but it's a little... unimpressive.

“This is serious,” Petra tells you sternly, “Guns are not to be played with, yes? Do you want it?”

Hesitating, you stare at it, your hand half extended to take the thing. Things would change, somehow, if you take it. Even after everything that has happened, you feel like taking the gun would finally make things “real”.

“It's your choice,” Petra adds, with that same seriousness, “I won't blame you for saying no.”

>Take the gun
>Leave it. You don't need it
>>
>>44405438
>>Take the gun
Better to have it and not need it......... besides we really don't want to get smacked in the face.
>>
>>44405438
>Take the gun
>>
>>44405438
>>Take the gun
Sounds like a Glock to me.
>>
>>44405466
>>44405457
>>44405448

Taking a deep breath, you nod and close your fingers around the offered grip, taking the gun for yourself. It's not as heavy as you were expecting, but it has a kind of solid weight that reminds you, with each second you hold it for, of what its purpose is. You're about to raise it when Petra puts her hand on the gun and forces it, gently, down until it's pointing at the ground once more.

“Don't wave it about carelessly, yes?” she says, scolding you lightly, “Only point it at something you want to shoot. And your finger, keep it out of the trigger guard unless you're shooting it. Common sense, yes?”

Right, you mutter, repeating the brief lesson in firearm safety to yourself. Nothing too arduous to remember, you hope, but something you'll need to keep in mind for the first few days.

“Good. Should be easy enough to shoot, I think,” Petra tells you, checking a number on the side of the gun, “Yes. Nine millimetre. Good for a beginner.”

Nine millimetres? It looks a lot bigger than that...

“The calibre,” Petra laughs, “The bullet, yes? Here – spare ammo.” She hands you a pair of flat plastic boxes, the brass of exposed bullets shining at their tips. You take them, holding them gingerly as though they might go off at any minute, as Petra takes a gun for herself – a copy of the one you have. She looks at it with distaste, but keeps hold of it regardless. “Time to practice with it later, yes? You'll get the hang of it quickly, I think.”

You're about to reply when you fall silent, the sound of heavy footsteps above you causing the words to die on your lips. Something, perhaps your unseen graffiti artist, is moving around up there. Their footfall is heavy and purposeful, slow with a kind of arrogance.
>>
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>>44405587

Pressing your finger to your lips, you creep up towards the stairs and peer up into the lit floor above. You don't see anything for a while, and then a formless shadow slides across the roof, thrown wildly off by some unknown light source. Holding your breath, you hear the dull scrape of metal dragging across the floor, and then silence as the moving figure either leaves or grows still. With Petra following in your footsteps, you ascend the staircase, taking each step one at a time and pausing often, listening carefully to the still and silent air.

Your footsteps grow more confident with each silent moment that passes, as it looks more and more likely that your unseen enemy has wandered off somewhere – hopefully never to return. Those hopes are soon dashed, though, as you leave the police station. Kneeling in the snow, leaning heavily on a jagged, cruel looking sword, is a barbarous figure draped in nothing but the pelt of a great wolf.

“Those are coward's weapons,” the demon growls, his breath hissing out into the air as steam, “Leave them and flee, or prove your worth as a warrior. I will test you – but dare you stand against the fury of one of Odin's own Berserkers?”

He looks dangerous, there's no denying it, but you're not exactly keen to drop the weapons you specifically came here to get. He doesn't look like the type to listen to reason, either, although you might, at the very least, be able to beat some sense into him.

>Abandon your guns. They're not worth fighting over
>Summon a demon and start the fight
>Summon a demon and fight personally
>Other
>>
>>44405605
>Summon a demon and start the fight
Kin-ki and Dullahan
>>
>>44405605
>Summon a demon and start the fight
We've still got kinky out, right?

Also Moloch, good to see you back. how was your Alephmas?
>>
>>44405605
>>Summon a demon and start the fight
kin-ki
>>
>>44405622

>We still have Kin-Ki, yes
Christmas was pretty tolerable. Thanks for asking!
>>
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Rolled 110, 101 = 211 (2d120)

>>44405658
>>44405622
>>44405617

This guy wants to see a warrior? You've got all kinds of warriors to show him. You wave Kin-Ki forwards, grinning as the muscle-bound demon cracks his knuckles and flexes, the weak light glinting off his golden skin. Next to the towering Oni, Dullahan looks almost fragile – although you know that she is far from it. If the Berserker is put off by the thought of fighting both demons at once, he certainly doesn't show it. If anything, he looks savagely pleased by the outcome.

“Ah, warriors!” he declares, rising and pounding on his bare chest with his hands, “It would be my honour to fight you both, and let the strongest one amongst us emerge victorious. I have commended my soul to Valhalla already – what gods do you pray do?”

You don't, you shoot back, stepping away as Kin-Ki approaches, standing between you and the warrior demon. Dullahan circles him, her sharp eyes looking for any opening to exploit. Something about this, though, doesn't seem right. The total lack of fear in the Berserker's eyes is worrying, while the triumphant grin he already wears is infuriating. The fight, in his mind, is already won. That kind of arrogance just makes you want to wipe the smirk off his face even more.

As your demons prowl around him, the Berserker beats his chest once more, psyching himself up for the battle. His muscles bulge and twitch as he grips his blade, swinging it through the air with brutal efficiency. That's the moment that your demons pounce, launching themselves at the warrior.

>Please roll 2D100, for Kin-Ki and Dullahan. I'll take the highest of the first three!
>>
Rolled 69, 5 = 74 (2d100)

>>44405765
Welp we lose. Why is he as strong as Uriel and Maya?
>>
>>44405779

>Tarukaja is a hell of a drug!
>>
Rolled 97, 20 = 117 (2d100)

>>44405765
Did this turn into Nocturne Hard where we have to debuff everything?
>>
Rolled 82, 26 = 108 (2d100)

>>44405765
...Ameliadammit, why did I say to take a stab at this guy?
>>
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Rolled 45, 77 = 122 (2d100)

>>44405803
I guess Lilim does have Tarunda.
And if we're going by SMTIV stats Berserker actually nulls physical anyway
>>
Rolled 21, 66 = 87 (2d100)

>>44405765
Have Petra run. We'll hold this guy for a round then Blink the fuck away.
>>
>>44405765
Well, Dullahan is fucked, and Kin-Ki is close behind.
>>
We should have had Amelia spend more time with her dad so she would be a better programmer.

This 1 Demon limit is going to kill us. Can't even heal our own demons.
>>
>>44405803
>>44405817

As soon as Dullahan launches into action, the Berserker explodes into furious motion, surging forwards and swinging his sword with delirious strength. The wildly swinging blade catches Dullahan in the chest, smashing into her armoured form and launching her backwards. She hits the ground hard, her chest ripped open and spilling out fragmented machine components. As she tumbles, her head pops off and rolls away. Even with the Berserker howling with bloodlust, you can hear Petra sighing.

His mad charge takes the Berserker past Dullahan's laid out body – she's not dead yet, at least – and right into Kin-Ki. He takes the warrior's charge, grabbing him like someone wrestling with a rampaging bull. You watch, the breath catching in your throat as Kin-Ki digs his heels into the ground and stands firm against the Berserker's might. It seems like it should be an easy contest – he looks strong, true, but the Berserker is still slight compared with Kin-Ki – and yet slowly, you can see him forcing the Oni backwards. Inch by inch, Kin-Ki cuts a pair of deep grooves into the ground as his feet carve up the ground.

It's a stalemate, but not one that will last forever. Unless Kin-Ki can gather some desperate strength, he too will fall before the raging Berserker. Suddenly, running doesn't seem like such a bad idea. Still, Dullahan isn't out of the fight just yet, and both you and Petra have demons in reserve...

>Keep fighting, take it to the next round
>Switch out your demons and try something new
>Retreat, as quickly as you can
>Other
>>
>>44405936
I thought Vivian is dead Moloch?
>>
>>44405963

>Ah, that's right! So is Nadja, while we're on the subject. This is why I shouldn't take time off!
>>
>>44405936
>>Switch out your demons and try something new
We'll try Lilim Tarunda and Lightning.

If that doesn't work we run for it.
>>
>>44405936
>>44405997
Yup this
>>
>>44405997
Go with this. Hope to god Dullahan can hold him off long enough to debuff him.
>>
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Rolled 64, 71 = 135 (2d80)

>>44405997
>>44406058
>>44406076

A plan forms in your mind, then, as you watch Kin-Ki wrestling with the howling Berserker. Dullahan rises to her feet, pushing her head back down onto the doll-like joint of her neck, and brandishes her sword with vengeful fury. Turning to Petra, you hiss your idea into her ear with a desperate whisper, hurrying through the simple instructions. The redhead nods straight away, a grin forming on her face as she nods to Dullahan, the simple gesture conveying the unsaid orders.

Moments before Kin-Ki's strength fails him, you call him back to storage. Quite knocked off balance by the sudden removal of his obstacle, the Berserker flails and begins to tumble forwards, only for Dullahan to grab his shoulder and throw him backwards, pushing him away from you and Petra. Tapping at your phone with great haste, you call up Lilim and give your own orders. As Dullahan puts herself between you and the Berserker, Lilim calls up great waves of magic power, bands of sickly green light that flow around the Berserker and sap his strength. He seems to sag slightly, the sword hanging more heavily in his hand, as you prepare to renew the attack.

Growling, the Berserker lifts his sword once more – but is that the slightest of trembles you see in his hands? - and matches Dullahan's pacing, the pair of warriors circling each other as Lilim summons lightning to hurl at him. The flowing sparks surround her hands as she waits for an opening, a chance to strike without hitting Petra's lone demon.

If this doesn't work, you decide, you're going to be in trouble.

>Please roll 2D100, for Lilim and Dullahan. Best of the first three, once more
>>
Rolled 76, 78 = 154 (2d100)

>>44406177
Even debuffed he still rolls well for his dice pool.
>>
Rolled 4 (1d20)

>>44406177
FUCK VALHALLA!
>>
Rolled 5, 2 = 7 (2d100)

>>44406177
>>
Rolled 76, 75 = 151 (2d100)

>>44406203
>Auto
No, fuck me, I fucked up
>>
Rolled 3, 18 = 21 (2d100)

>>44406177
KAEDE GUIDE MY DICE
>>
>>44405233
>“Hardly an unforgivable sin,”
oh god, is she thinking she'd like to have the eye back on?

>>44406224
it seems the dice gods don't take kindly to purse owners.
>>
>>44406270
>oh god, is she thinking she'd like to have the eye back on?
Err, I think you are reading too much into that, but yes I would assume she does want an eye back, Dominion's or otherwise.
>>
>>44406187
>>44406223

Dullahan, you notice as she circles the barbarian warrior, seems perfectly calm. Utterly unconcerned, even as her rent chest spills out flakes of ruined metal. There is only the slightest of shudders to her movement to suggest any injury at all, let alone a terrible one. She looks like she could keep up her casual pace all day, without ever breaking a sweat. Her enemy, on the other hand, can barely stop himself from lashing out.

Eventually, his patience dies and he lunches, swinging a pair of madly powerful blows at Dullahan. The armoured demon takes a simple hop backwards, jumping out of his attack range and slashes at him, her sword drawing a red line across the Berserker's chest. He doesn't even notice the wound, barely even flinching as it oozes thick blood out. At the very least, the blow turns the tide of battle in Dullahan's favour, letting the armoured demon step back again. With that opening, Lilim takes the chance to hurl lightning. Her blow strikes the Berserker, sparks flashing as the magic courses through his body, and he lets out a blood curdling howl. Smouldering, wisps of smoke rising from his charred body, he drops low to one knee.

Is he... finished? Is that a gesture of surrender?

“Boss, no!” Lilim shouts, “He's gathering power, he's going to hit us – HARD!”

Terrible memories of Dionysus' last moments of spite flash through your mind, but this seems different. This isn't some act of self-destruction, this is him pouring all of his energy into a do or die attack – as if he wasn't bad enough already!

“We've got to finish him now!” Lilim shrieks, tugging at your shoulder, “Or get the hell out of his way!”

Right, right! It looks you've got a moment – one chance to act – before he unleashes whatever he's got building.

>Take the chance to flee
>Launch a final strike (Roll D100, best of the first three)
>Summon a new demon to strike (Roll D100, best of the first three)
>Other
>>
Rolled 99 (1d100)

>>44406354
>>Launch a final strike (Roll D100, best of the first three)
While the humans take cover and get the fuck out of the way. Even if he does get it off, he'll be drained and we can just summon a new demon. As long as the humans survive this, we win.
>>
Rolled 70 (1d100)

>>44406354
>>Launch a final strike (Roll D100, best of the first three)
>>44406377
Welp, for the sake of getting this out.
>>
Rolled 16 (1d100)

>>44406377
Man, this guy is dust.
>>44406354
>>Launch a final strike (Roll D100, best of the first three)
>>
>>44406354
>Let Kin-Ki tank it head on
I know it's kinda dumb, but I like Berserker. He's a really cool demon to have in the party
>>
>>44406524
It could be pretty useful having someone with Tarukaja and he's a hell of a tank. I don't know if he's going to survive this though.
>>
>>44406377

Well then, you snap at Lilim, what's she waiting for? Finish him off, then!

“R-right!” the little devil stammers, shaking her head and gathering her power for that final attack. As tides of flashing sparks begin to crawl down her arms to gather in the palms of her hands, you grab Petra and pull her back, leading her away into cover. If this fails, you don't want to be anywhere near the Berserker. Still, you can't help but peek out from the shattered doorway, looking past Kin-Ki's destruction at the action.

Howling, the Berserker tears his sword up, holding it with both hands and lifting it high into the air. Before he can launch his attack, slamming the sword down into the ground or doing whatever it is he is about to do, Lilim hurls lighting at him. The first bolt hits him square in the chest, bright enough to leave a darkened streak in your vision. It hits him hard, and the stench of cooked flesh bursts into the air. A strong blow, but the attack is yet to finish. Perhaps summoned by the magic, more bolts of lightning arc down from the cloudy sky, striking again and again at the upraised sword and blasting through the Berserker's twitching body. Time after time, the power hammers into him until, at last, he falls ponderously backwards.

“Huh,” Lilim says, before the resulting silence can become too oppressive, “I guess lightning CAN strike twice.”

The laugh that tumbles from your lips, then, is one of sheer relief, that's all. You weren't laughing at her LAME joke. Not at all. Still, after you emerge from hiding, you clap her on the shoulder and congratulate the little devil. Together, you're turning to leave when a voice, croaking and rasping, reaches your ears.

“You...” the fallen Berserker whispers, his voice coming from broken and bloodied lips.
>>
>>44406597

“You are indeed... strong,” he rasps, “You have proven yourselves to be formidable warriors – the like that would be welcome within Valhalla's halls.”

Well, you're not sure how much credit you can take, personally, but you're not about to turn away the compliment. Awkwardly – you're not sure, exactly, how to talk to a dying man – you thank him for the comment.

“I sense... you have a long path ahead of you, a path littered with the bodies of your enemies,” the Berserker croaks, “A path of war, conflict and strife – a path that I, too, seek to walk.”

Oh, you can see where this is going. The old “beat friendship into them” approach. That said, your storage is looking pretty full – you'd need to let someone go, if you wanted to take the Berserker along with you. Although, you recall, Petra never has many demons in her storage – not for long, anyway.

“Allow me to join you,” the Berserker growls softly, “Or finish me off now, so that I might meet a swift end on the battlefield.”

>Release a demon and recruit Berserker
>Let Petra recruit Berserker
>Finish him off quickly
>Other
>>
>>44406645
Let Petra, seems like they'll get along.
>>
>>44406645
>Let Petra recruit Berserker
>>
>>44406645
>Let Petra recruit Berserker
The Tarukaja drug is now ours.

I do think we should put Shax into our Glock when we get back. A Wind/Poison gun would be very versatile.
>>
>>44406645
>>Let Petra recruit Berserker
>>
>>44406738
>>44406692
>>44406664
>>44406661

Well, he can come with you, you offer, but not in your service. It's okay though, you think he'd probably get along better with Petra anyway. They're both quite... enthusiastic about things.

“Yes,” Berserker groans, his eyes fluttering slowly closed as the last, lingering remnants of life begin to seep from his body. He sounds like someone falling into a deep and entirely unwelcome sleep. “This is... acceptable. Ah, but the rage has left me. I must... rest...”

Quickly, you urge Petra, before he dies!

“I know,” the redhead replies, stepping forwards and holding her phone over the dying demon. A chime sounds as the contract between the two of them is sealed and then, with a final strained gasp, the Berserker's form collapsed into charred ash and rags. “Got him,” Petra gloats, “Ah, but he'll need time to rest – but then, don't we all?”

Well, you've got to agree with her there. Some day off this turned out to be. At least you got what came here to get, and escaped without any serious losses. You'll call that a success. As you're starting to head back to the fairy kingdom, though, your phone chimes softly. It's a message from Cassandra, as short and to the point as you've come to expect from her.

“I'll be at the Hellfire Club tonight,” the message reads, “If you want to talk.”

Huh. She can't be that busy, then, if she's able to take the time off to visit the club. Or maybe she has business there, although you can't imagine what. Maybe Mister Black had her looking for his book as well, since she was in that part of the world. Looking down at the message still shining on your screen, you consider your reply.

>I'll be there
>I might be able to come
>I can't make it
>Other
>>
>>44406851
>I'll be there
>>
>>44406851
>I'll be there
>>
>>44406851
>I'm bringing Petra
>>
>>44406851
>>I'll be there
>>44406915
Go with this. We're not going alone.
>>
>>44406915
Only if Petra can promise to not to jump down her throat about her potential change in allegiance. Alienating her will only push her in the other direction.
>>
>>44406952
>>44406915
>>44406872
>>44406869

You'll be there.

That's the reply you type out quickly, your fingers dancing across the keyboard with easy grace. Then, before you can hit “send”, you grow still. Hesitating, you stare down at the message and think hard. Do you really want to go and see Cassandra alone again, even on neutral ground like the Hellfire Club? Fighting might not be permitted within the club itself, but there's nothing stopping a fight from breaking out once you step outside.

With the message still unsent, you glance across to Petra. Hypothetically, you begin, if she was to meet Cassandra face to face, could she promise not to start a fight? Or even an argument?

“Hypothetically speaking?” Petra shrugs, “I'll start nothing, yes, but if SHE starts something...”

That's fine, you cut her off, that's all you want to hear. You're assuming that Cassandra is smart enough not to pick a fight either. With that confirmed, you amend your message a little. You'll be there, it now reads, but you're bringing Petra. Nodding softly to yourself, you send it on its way. The reply, coming a moment later, carries the note of bland acceptance. A single word - “Fine”. Not even a “See you later” or anything to soften the tone.

“That wasn't hypothetical at all,” Petra guesses as you're tucking your phone away, “Was it?”

Not even slightly, you agree with forced cheer, but it might be nice to see Cassandra again. Petra doesn't reply to that, merely grunting as you start off towards the fairy kingdom. You've still got plenty of time to kill before night – although, without a proper clock, you can only guess at the specific amount. How should you spend the rest of your day?

>Visit Scathach and forge a demon
>See if you can find Elliot
>Check up on Leon
>Find out what Joseph's been doing
>Ask Petra for some shooting lessons
>Other
>>
>>44407094
>Visit Scathach and forge a demon
Shax into our gun.

We got a wind demon already so poison is his main attraction. But if we can get that into our gun we'll have the status ailment at all times.


Then
>Ask Petra for some shooting lessons

And if there is time
>Find out what Joseph's been doing
>>
>>44407114
Seconding.
>>
>>44407094
I'll support >>44407114
>>
>>44407094
>>Find out what Joseph's been doing
I don't think there was an option to see Joseph last time. I guess Moloch forgot about him again.
>>
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>>44407114
>>44407122
>>44407148
>>44407221

If you're going to be taking this “shooting stuff” thing seriously, you might as well do it with an enchanted gun – something that can cut through a demon's defences without needing a little boost from one of your own demons. That means stopping by Scathach and, unfortunately, offering up one of your minions. It's okay, though – you've got one in mind that you don't mind cutting loose. Shax was useful, blighting Kagutsuchi with his plague winds, but you think he'll be more useful as a weapon.

The trip back to the kingdom is uneventful, dogged only by the faintest of tremors, and you soon find yourself trekking to the archives. Petra parts with you, then, telling you that she'll be in her room. You might stop by later, you decide, and see if she can teach you how to shoot properly. You just hope the fairies don't mind.

Scathach is, of course, exactly where you expect to find her. The stacks of books piled up on her desk almost hide her from view, but then – as you draw close – she hovers up above them, regarding you with curious eyes.

“My, back again?” she asks coyly, “A little too early for my research to have produced any results, I'm afraid. Unless, of course, you were just here for the pleasure of my company?”

Uh...

“Never mind that,” Scathach laughs, floating down so that she is, once more, on your level, “I'm on my break at the moment, so I've got some time to spare. What can I help you with, hmm?”

>Could you forge Shax into this gun?
>Could you forge a demon for me?
>Need anything else for your research?
>Other
>>
>>44407353
>Could you forge Shax into this gun?
>>
>>44407353
>Could you forge Shax into this gun?

>Need anything else for your research?
I mean if we get magic items as rewards it can't hurt to have options open.
>>
>>44407353
>>Could you forge Shax into this gun?
I wonder what Berserker would make. Armor with null physical?
>Local girl is fucking invincible
>>
>>44407353
>Could you forge Shax into this gun?
>Still not mentioning what the research is about?
>>
>>44407513
She did though.

She's comparing divinity to see if fairy divinity could make a man a Demon like Cernunnos claims to be.
>>
>>44407539
oh, oops.
>>
>>44407513
>>44407425
>>44407421
>>44407382

Placing the dull weight of your new gun atop one of the ancient, leather-bound books – the name is mostly rubbed away, but this one seems to be written someone named “Carnby” - you ask if Scathach can forge one of your demons into it. Shax, as it happens.

“I can do that, yes,” Scathach tells you, lifting the gun away with fastidious care and dusting down the book with a kind of reverence, “Ah, but what power could this weapon possess? Mysterious such at this are why I do this kind of work! Now please, step into my office...” Humming to herself in anticipation, Scathach leads you away to the usual dead end, banishing the false wall with a gesture and showing you into the forge. Placing the handgun and your phone into the forge, she floats back and waits, holding her hands out like someone savouring the heat from a warm fire.

Sighing, you close your eyes and wait, not quite sure what to expect. A few moments pass, and then you feel Scathach taking your wrists in a gentle grip, steering them up so that your palms are raised, open to the sky above. Then, falling into your open hands, the weight of your new weapon reaches you. Opening your eyes, you look down at the gun – now a slender thing, engraved with all manner of feathers and spooky looking bird skulls. It's... beautiful, in a way that you never thought a gun could be.

“The engravings offer no tactical advantage,” Scathach shrugs delicately, “But I think you'll be happy with the results. If I do say so myself, I'm particularly proud of this piece – I believe I managed to harness both aspects of Shax's power, both wind and poison.”

Very impressive, you admit as you lift the weapon up, turning it over so that the light glints off the metal – you KNEW guns were supposed to be made out of metal – casing. Looking up from your weapon, you ask Scathach if there is anything you do to help her research. It's the least you can do, you figure.
>>
>>44407654

“Hmm,” Scathach touches a finger to her mask as she thinks, “Very kind of you to offer, but I think I have everything under control at the moment. I don't imagine you'd care to devote the rest of your days to fetching me books and scrolls – I have some Pixies to do that for me, regardless – but I'll keep your offer in mind. Rest assured, if I need something done, I shall ask you – and I shall reward you well.”

Well, you didn't want to mention it, but that's good to hear. As generous and helpful as you'd like to think you are, you're not in the business of doing things for free. What, are you supposed to be some sort of janitor or something? Anyway...

“So,” Scathach purrs, plucking your phone from the furnace and returning it to you, “I'll be getting back to work, now. I believe there is a nice spot in the woods outside if you'd like to play with your new toy – some use if for archery, as I recall, and there should be many targets left over. You'll find it easily enough, just follow the path outside to the – ah, where was it? - the East, I believe.”

And now you've even got a place to practice your shooting – how convenient. Thanking Scathach again for her assistance, you hurry to Petra's room and tell her of the shooting range. Her face lights up at the sound of that, and she quickly falls into step behind you as you lead her along the path Scathach mentioned. The path leads you to a quiet grove with numerous targets dangling from branches and propped up against rocks.

“Peaceful,” Petra remarks, looking around the shrouded clearing, “We start with the basics, yes? Loading and unloading. No shooting, not yet.”

Boring.
>>
>>44407822
>boring
bitch, you haven't used a gun period, you are going to do these basic safety drills and you're gonna like 'em. And if you don't like 'em you're gonna do it anyway until you can do them in your sleep because it's THAT fucking important [/k rage]
>>
>>44407822

As it happens, the introductions are a lot quicker than you expect – partly because Petra is bemused by the arcane construction of your new gun. Nothing, she claims with something that approaches outrage, is where it should be. After a while, you agree on how to fumble a magazine in and draw back the slide – gripping it firmly by a pair of overly ornate wings as you do so. You see brass glinting from inside the weapon, so you guess that it's loaded. With that finally over, you mimic Petra's stance – the redhead drawing her own gun and pointing it at one of the targets – and squeeze the trigger.

It's not what you were expecting.

The gun bangs sharply – even prepared for the noise, it takes you by surprise – and the bullet strikes home, hitting one of the wooden discs dangling from a tree. Not even a second later, a brief whirlwind rises up, causing the disc to skitter about wildly from whatever cord was used to tie it up. When the wind dies, the disc falls heavily from the tree. When you approach and prod the wood, it is spongy with decay and nearly falls apart at the slight touch. That's... disgusting.

“Uh,” Petra forces a laugh, “Not what I was expecting either, yes? What do you think?”

>This is awesome!
>I don't think I can use this thing
>You want to have a go?
>Other
>>
>>44407908
>This is awesome!
>You want to have a go?
>>
>>44407908
>This is....a little scary
>Though I suppose carving things up with a knife isn't any better
>You want to have a go?
>>
>>44407908
>>This is awesome!
>> kinda scary too
>>You want to have a go?
>>
>>44407973
>>44407960
>>44407952

This is, and you pause here as you try to think of a suitable way to describe it, pretty awesome. A little scary, true, but pretty damn awesome. Offering the gun to Petra – you remember to keep it pointed at the ground, just like she taught you – you ask if she wants to give it a try.

“Well,” Petra chuckles, “Once or twice can't hurt, yes?” Taking the gun carefully – even she looks at it with something approaching nervousness, as if expecting it to go off in her hand – Petra snaps off a carefully aimed shot at one of the other targets. Once more the noise punishes your ears, and the target is engulfed in a churning storm of toxic winds. When the dust settles, literally, she hands the gun back to you, brushing her hands on her trousers with a deliberate casualness. “Scary,” she agrees, “Think you can point it at a person?”

Well, it IS a scary thought, you admit, but it's not that different from pointing a knife at them, and you picked that part up pretty fast. When it comes to pointing at a real person, though, and not a demon? You couldn't say – you just hope the occasion never comes.

“Quite right,” a voice from behind you calls out. It's Joseph, looking quite sleepy. “I wondered what you girls were doing out here, causing all that noise. I was taking a nap not too far from here – waking up to gunfire, I assure you, is not a pleasant experience. I've never liked that noise, can't really say why. Though, I suppose nobody really LIKES it, do they?”

Petra shrugs cautiously, her face unreadable. You decide the best thing, in this situation, would be to follow suit.

“Well,” Joseph sighs, “I'm awake now, I suppose. How are things?”

>I heard from Cassandra. She's having trouble with your Archangels
>Things are fine. How about on your end?
>Hey, do you feel like heading West tomorrow with us?
>Other
>>
>>44408187
>Other than the fact that Uriel and Raphael joined and were transforned by Nyarly, things are fine. How about on your end?
>Hey, do you feel like heading West tomorrow with us?

I don't like 'Your' Archangels. Sounds too accusatory.
>>
>>44408187
>>Things are fine. How about on your end?
>>Hey, do you feel like heading West tomorrow with us?
Umm Uriel and Raphael went to Nyalarhotep. They're his now. Almost caught Cassandra. Might want to tell Gabriel.
>>
>>44408187
>>Things are fine. How about on your end?
>>Hey, do you feel like heading West tomorrow with us?
>>
>>44408343
>>44408255
>>44408232

Things? Things are, more or less, fine – just a few small issues here and there, that's all. Uriel and Raphael have defected, teaming up with Nyarlathotep in exchange for some measure of his power. They work for him now, which might – MIGHT – be a problem.

“My, yes,” Joseph muses, trying to cover up a rapidly paling face by yawning, “I'll, ah, I'll have to tell Gabriel about that. Oh, she won't be very happy – no news of Michael, I suppose?”

That's another bit of news, you say delicately. Apparently, he's been butting heads with Cassandra over one of the divine fragments, and – if her account is to be believed – he almost killed her. She's hanging on though, which is good. Probably. But other than those few minor factors, things are pretty much fine on your end. How about him, how's he doing?

“Well,” the young man laughs briefly, “I'm not quite sure what I can say to that. I feel like I've been taking it easy, compared with what everyone else has gone through. So things ARE going well for me – but I feel a little guilty saying that, I suppose.”

In that case, you offer, how does he feel like joining you on a little trip West tomorrow, into this mysterious new forest that the fairies are so keen on investigating? It might be dangerous, you warn him, so he shouldn't accept it on a whim.

“Tell you what,” Joseph offers, “I'll think it over. Ask me tomorrow, once I've had a chance to weigh up my options. I want to make myself useful, but this sort of sounds like jumping right into the deep end. How does that sound, to you?”

Sounds fine, you say, before a yawn cuts off anything else you had to say. Maybe you should get a little rest before seeing Cassandra, if you don't have anything else to do.

>Rest up, then visit the Hellfire Club
>You've got something else to take care of (write in)
>>
>>44408484
>Rest up, then visit the Hellfire Club
>>
>>44408484
>>Rest up, then visit the Hellfire Club
>>
>>44408484
>>Rest up, then visit the Hellfire Club
Got nothing better to do.
>>
>>44408567
>>44408564
>>44408508

No, you've got nothing better to do today, not until you have to meet Cassandra at the Hellfire Club. It's best to grab a quick nap before then, so your mind is fresh for that meeting. If things go bad – if your worst fears are confirmed, in other words – you'll want to be as well prepared as possible for it. Going in with your eyes half closed won't do you any favours at all.

“Good idea,” Petra nods, “Sleep when you can. You never know when the next chance to rest will be, yes?”

With that in mind, you return to your room and flop down on the bed. It doesn't take very long to fall into a light and restless sleep, and if feels like mere moments before you are awake again, the weight of fatigue barely lifted from your body. Struggling upright in bed, you rub your chest until the stiffness starts to leave it. It seems to take longer than you're used to, as if all the exercise you've been getting lately is taking its toll on you. Then again, you think bitterly as you tap the firm boning in Scathach's corset, there might be OTHER explanations at work.

Stretching the tension out of your arms and shoulders, you hurry downstairs and bump into Petra, waiting at the entrance to the palace with a terse look on her face. She's really uncertain about this meeting, no matter how unaffected she tries to appeal – concern for Cassandra's safety, or concern about what might happen if things go wrong?

“It's been a long time, yes?” Petra offers, trying to smile, “It seems that way, at least. I don't know what to expect.”

Well, you reply, the sooner you get there, the sooner she can find out. No sense in hanging about, is there?

“No,” Petra agrees, nodding, “No there is not. Then we should get a move on, yes?”
>>
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>>44408781

The trip over to the Hellfire Club is one made in silence, save for the occasional attempt at conversation – attempts that are always met with failure. Outside the club, you both take a moment to steel yourselves and then enter, scanning the room for any sign of Cassandra. You don't see her, at first, but you do see a tall and imposing demon slouched at the bar, his leopard skin dusted with snow. Looking past the demon, you see Cassandra, passing across what looks like some vials of blood to the bartender.

Slowly, reluctantly, you approach. The demon growls at you, but Cassandra stills him with a slight touch to the arm. Turning to face you, you are taken aback at how bad Cassandra looks. Her long white coat is gone, replaced with a more practical jacket, and one of her hands – perhaps the arms above it as well – is wrapped in ragged bandages. Her face is marked with scabs, scars and small burns, tired eyes gleaming dully in their sockets.

“Petra,” she says as she looks the taller girl in the eye, “Looks like you lost another eye. Careless.”

“Cassandra,” Petra shoots back, “You look half cooked.”

An awkward silence descends, drawing out longer and longer. Watching the pair of them, you grow acutely aware of the weapons sitting snug at their hips. The demon glances across at you and offers a shrug, equally wary of the unfolding situation.

“We should drink,” Petra decides, slapping Cassandra on her uninjured arm, “Drink, and talk business, yes?”

“I don't think so,” Cassandra almost smiles, her mouth twitching, “Last time we drank together, we ended up...” A pause, here, as Petra clears her throat. “We ended up hungover for days,” Cassandra finishes smoothly. The tension, thankfully, breaks.
>>
>>44408900

Not entirely. You notice that both Petra and Cassandra never move their hands far from their weapons, even when they sit at a table. You can't help but stare at Cassandra's wounds, especially after she slips out of her jacket to reveal, as you suspected, an arm wrapped in stained linen. There is the slightest smell of burned flesh hanging about her, enough to suggest that the wound is a particularly new one.

“So,” she says eventually, tapping a finger on the middle of the table, “Here we are again, all around a table. To be honest, I wasn't sure if you'd show up. I suppose... I'm glad we can still sit together, like this, even now.”

“Perhaps,” Petra offers, a faint note of petulance in her voice, “No point in drawing swords, yes? We're all hurt enough without adding to each other's troubles.”

Silence, again, as the conversation dies. You find yourself wondering why Cassandra asked to see you. Just to see if you'd show up?

>Cassandra, what's with the blood?
>Say, are we here for a reason?
>Cassandra, you look terrible. You're going to die if you keep this up
>Other
>>
>>44408978
>Cassandra, what's with the blood?
Cass you look to be in worse shape than Petra, and Petra fought Raphael in melee combat.
>>
>>44408978
>>Other
"Mister Red could we get some waters?"

>Cassandra, you look terrible. You're going to die if you keep this up
"At least come to the kingdom to get some healing from Titania or someone."

>Cassandra, what's with the blood?
>>
>>44409014
She did have a close encounter with Michael who is much tougher than Raph so it makes sense.
>>
>>44409056
True but I'd expect her to hide from him and flee rather than pull a Petra.
>>
>>44409119
I don't she did pull a Petra. Remember Michael was blowing up parts of the city with fire. She might have gotten caught in one of the blasts.

And also Petra didn't really challenge Raph man, she couldn't get out of the way in time.
>>
>>44409015
>>44409014

You start with an easy one. You excuse yourself and flee to the bar, asking for a jug of water for the table. It's not much, as gestures go, but it buys you a little bit of time to think. With the pitcher in one hand and a trio of glasses pinched together in the other, you return to the table. You're glad, at least, that war hasn't broken out in the brief moment you were away for. Small miracles, and all that.

As you're pouring out glasses of water for everyone – it's not diplomacy without glasses of water, you decide – you ask the most obvious question that comes to you. Cassandra, you ask, what's with the blood?

“Work,” she says simply, “Someone – I don't know who – wanted samples of various demon blood. I don't know why, and I don't WANT to know why. Little jobs like this are how I survive, these days. Paying my way with favours and bartered trash. It's a tough life, but you probably guessed that, didn't you?”

You didn't need to guess – she looks terrible. If she keeps this up, you warn her, she's going to get herself killed. She could always come to the fairy kingdom and get some help from Titania, you're sure that the queen would be willing to help.

“I... appreciate the offer,” Cassandra looks pained at the mention of the fairy kingdom, and her hand lifts up to scratch at some of those scabs on her face. She catches herself at the last minute, her fingers curling back into the palm of her hand. “I'd like to go back, I really would, but... it's not that easy, Mia. If I went back, I might never be able to leave.”

That's a risk, you scold her, she needs to take. She looks in worse shape than Petra, and Petra went toe to toe with Raphael!

“Thanks for that,” Petra grumbles, not quite capable of hiding her smile.
>>
>>44409249

“You're a fool,” Cassandra says, with a kind of fondness, “Not even I'm crazy enough for that. I got this...” she lifts her bandaged arm, here, and you can't help but notice she struggles to do it, “I got this just running away from Michael. He put an entire street to the torch, because he thought it would kill me.”

“Didn't though,” Petra offers, taking a quick drink before she is tempted to congratulate Cassandra.

No, you agree, it didn't. But he will eventually, if she doesn't take a break to gather her strength. You think about what Elliot suggested, when you asked him – Cassandra needs to understand the situation she's in.

“I can't stop now,” Cassandra breaths, “I'm close to finding one of the fragments, I know I am! I've followed every rumour, every dirty whisper that I can buy, and they ARE leading me closer. I can't just stop now, or Michael will win!”

Sighing, you frown hard at the table, your blurred reflection just barely visible in the polished wood. This is getting you nowhere fast.

>Cassandra, why is this so important to you?
>Then I'll help you – we'll cover the ground quicker, that way
>If I can't persuade you to stop, at least I can wish you good luck
>Get yourself killed then. You know that's how this will end
>Other
>>
>>44409323
>Cassandra, why is this so important to you?
"It feels...more personal than I thought it was. With how you are fighting Michael it seems you are a revolutionary within Law, but to what end? Who's backing you? "

Lets start with this before we make any decisions.
>>
>>44409323
>Cassandra, why is this so important to you?
>>
>>44409323
>>Cassandra, why is this so important to you?
So What is Michael gets a power boost, he still ahs to deal with Raphael and Uriel, Nyalarhotep too. If you die, he wins by default. Besides he requires a human for his objective, I can count the number of humans alive on 2 hands.
>>
>>44409323
>>Cassandra, why is this so important to you?
Kinda want to ask if she's seen that book we're looking for, but this isn't really the time for that.
>>
>>44409439
>>44409416
>>44409403
>>44409384

Slowly, as you stop yourself from chewing your lip, you decide to ask the most important question in your mind. Cassandra, you ask, why is this so important? So important that she's willing to risk life and limb in some insane race against an Archangel? If you didn't know any better, you'd say there was something personal here. She's acting like a kind of revolutionary, but for what purpose? And is she really doing it alone?

“Law,” Cassandra says simply, “I spent so long hating that idea, but then – right at the very end, last time – I saw something. A kind of innocence and purity, hidden for so long beneath dogma and fury. That's something that those Archangels don't care about, something they CAN'T care about. That's something I need to protect.”

Petra, uncomfortable, looks down at the table, slowly rubbing at her eyepatch as she listens. What, you wonder, is she thinking about? Something she remembers as well?

“I can fix things,” Cassandra blurts out suddenly, “I CAN. I just need to offer up a little bit of divine power, just enough to get God to listen. I'm going to bring Law back to this world, but it will be a Law that protects the weak. I've been promised-” She stops, here, and looks away. “I know this will work. I do.”

But if she dies, you stress, Michael wins by default. There will be nobody left to take her side, and he'll be the one making the laws.

“That's why I NEED to beat him,” Cassandra murmurs, her voice intense despite the quiet tone, “You can see that, can't you?”

>I can. I think we should work together, from now on
>Your goals are admirable, but we're working against each other. I can't support this
>You're delusional. You're being manipulated
>Other
>>
>>44409669
I do agree Michael getting his hands on the shard is bad. I still need to ask a question though.
Who exactly promised you Cassandra? Because it sounds like someone on the side of Law is whispering sweet nothings in your ear and messing with your head to get you to do their dirty work.

I'd like to meet and speak with them to make sure they're on the up and up, and not like Mother Maya.
>>
>>44409669
>Other
"Promised what and by who? Your goals are admirable but demons can lie and manipulate. Don't take these promises at face value, especially when the fate of Law is concerned. There is a huge power vacuum right now, anyone will say anything to get a slice of that."

"And do you really need the Great Will to make Law into what you want? He isn't there anymore and they might need some guidance but I don't think they NEED him."
>>
>>44409669
>Promised by who?
>>
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>>44409877
>>44409796
>>44409717

You can see, as clearly as she can, that Michael getting his hands on one of the divine fragments would be bad. But, and you stress that word, but she needs to think about this. What, exactly, has she been promised, and by who? If it's a demon, she needs to be careful – demons can lie, and they can manipulate. While she might be willing to take these promises at face value, they might also be sweet nothings. With Law being in the state it's currently in, anyone would say anything to get her to do their dirty work.

“An angel, not a demon,” Cassandra corrects you, tightly, “But yes, I take your point. Believe me, please, when I say that I know what you're talking about. I'm perfectly aware that-”

Who, you say bluntly, who promised her? You want to talk to THEM, and see what they have to say for themselves. Then, and only then, can you give her a fair judgement.

“...Fine,” Cassandra sighs heavily, rubbing her brow, “I didn't want it to come to this, but fine. Just please, hear me out – and not here. Outside.”

Fine, you say as you rise to follow her, but one other question – does she really need the Great Will for this? Can't she just make the world a better place without Him?

“I don't trust this kind of power to humanity,” Cassandra says simply as you exit the club, cold wind slapping you in the face, “Not any more. Can you really say that you feel any different?” Before you can answer that, Cassandra reaches into her jacket and pulls out a strange iron rod. Turning it over in her hands for a moment, she raises it to the sky.

You feel something you've not felt in a long time. A shudder, like the fabric of the world around you has been altered, ever so slightly. Something, you realise, is coming.

“Cassandra,” a smooth voice declares from all around you, “I was supposed to be a SILENT partner.”

>I'll end things here for tonight! Next thread on Tuesday, and I'll stick around for a while!
>>
>>44410012
REMOVE HERALD
>>
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>>44410012
Thanks for the run Moloch

The Puppeteer reveals himself.

So wait does Cass realize who she is dealing with? Does Petra know or would only Amelia and Joseph actually recognize him?
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>>44410012
>Can you really say that you feel any different?
I don't trust it to a human ALONE. Too imperfect for that as Amelia showed. But a small group...
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>>44410076

I don't think Cass ever had any direct dealings with Mastema, or Petra for that matter. Amelia and Joseph were the only ones who ever really interacted with him. Both Petra and Cass do know about him, but only in a vague way.

In this case, Mastema could literally try the old "No, it was the other guy" tactic!
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>>44410012
When Joseph hears about this he is going to flip.
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>>44410012
>“An angel, not a demon,”
Cass come on. You know way better than that by now.
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>>44410154

But didn't you hear? Mastema is a good guy now, you can trust him!

>>44410171

Please respect Mastema's pronouns.
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Well Mia does know that Joseph was the main Law guy last cycle.

Maybe after Mastema is done spewing bullshit we call up Joseph, have him summon Gabby and run the name 'Mastema' by them to see how trustworthy he is.
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>>44410012
Joseph, Amelia and Gabby's faces when they hear about that
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>>44410308

Sharing information is always a good idea!

And I apologise, but something has come up and I'll have to hurry off. Thanks to everyone for the contributions today!



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