Harem Tragedy (part 5)
New
Mr Zoat
Dedicated ragequitter
- Joined
- Dec 1, 2016
- Messages
- 17,135
- Likes received
- 893,081
Late-Autumn, IC 690, A Few Minutes Later
Ah, an Apostle. I was wondering-
She bends forwards to duck a sword swing, then spins, her scythe-. The staff part of her scythe sort of scooping up the Warrior Bunnies assailing her before sending them flying across the field. Ah… Looks like broken ribs and arms, plus the bruises from slamming into the hard ground and then rolling. Warrior Bunnies tend to be fairly stoical, but if Prince Diabo doesn't use me to heal them then they might not be fully fit by the time that we set out, even assuming that she didn't cause serious damage to their lungs or something.
Diabo clasps me with his right hand. "You know you said that I could become an Apostle?"
"Yes?"
"Is now a good time?"
"It's not a decision you should rush."
"The thing about rushing is that it lets you outrun the woman with the scythe coming to kill you."
"You can take her."
"Yes, but 'can' and 'will' aren't the same thing!"
"Even if I made you an Apostle right now, you'd still need time to spend time absorbing raw magic before you could start doing things like she can."
"Oh."
"YOU!" The Apostle marches closer, scythe swaying in her left hand and her right fist balled as she glares at Prince Diabo. "What are you doing with my dragon?!"
He takes a moment to better fake equanimity, drawing himself up as he does so. "I-."
Miss Marceau interposes herself, arrow on string and… Some sort of magic spell glowing around the arrowhead. Chief Eithne has dropped her staff and has drawn her sword, and a couple of the Warrior Bunnies the Apostle knocked aside are rising to their feet.
Prince Diabo, whatever you're going to say, make it good.
"Whatever I want. It's my dragon now."
Oh. Um. Not what I was expecting, but a good start. Keep it up.
The Apostle slows in her onwards march, scowling at him. "Who are you?"
"I am Prince Diabo El Caesar."
The Apostle gestures to the vacant-looking dragon. "That dragon is sacred to Hardy!"
"I make offerings to Hardy regularly as part of my-."
The Apostle blurs but Diabo is already responding, accelerating his own mental processes, forming construct gauntlets to shoves Miss Marceau and Chief Eithne aside-
Miss Marceau has already loosed her arrow, which the oncoming Apostle casually bats aside. It spins off, stabilises in mid air and then flies at her once again.
-before creating a construct tower shield directly in her path. She spots it, front flips so that the arrow shoots under her and hits the shield first and cracks it before doing a complete 360o spin in the air and bringing the blade of her scythe down-.
On where the now-absent shield was before she committed to the attack.
Diabo brings his two gauntlet constructs together hard, squishing the Apostle between them. He then generates construct armour around himself and rises off the ground. A construct sword would be fairly pointless and I agree with his decision not to make one, but-.
Oh. That's nasty.
As part of making primitive black powder we've had to work with a variety of unpleasant substances, and that has involved Prince Diabo becoming more familiar with ammonium nitrate than he'd like. As such, he's gotten familiar with some truly smelly substances and right now he's got a pressurised construct tank of the stuff connected to a construct hose which is pointed at her.
The Apostle punches her arms out to the sides, destroying the constructs…
"You-!"
More or less just in time to give Diabo a clear short with his concentrated ammonia stream. And unfortunately for her, she had her mouth open.
"Gwaaaghg-g-g-h-h-hhhh-ouwghgh-huuu!"
She's dropped her scythe and she's retching on the floor, tears streaming down her face and fingers impotently trying to wipe the liquid off her face but mostly just spreading it further.
"Oh, well done."
Miss Marceau stares for a moment, blinks, then her face crinkles up and she drops her bow so that both her hands can cover her nose. Chief Eithne looks dismayed, but limits herself to taking a few steps back. She joined in a tour of the powder works so she should have at least some idea what it is.
Prince Diabo cut off the stream. "Had enough?"
"This is disgusting!"
"I can remove it if you want. All you have to do is surrender."
"Neve-agkagkagkccuuuuuuh..!"
"Alright. Let's start with your name."
"How can you notuhhuhhuhh..!?"
"We only have a list of Apostles who have been in the Empire. I'm afraid that I don't know every Apostle in the world. Your wings are distinctive enough that I'm sure I would remember you if I'd heard of you before."
"I am Giselle, Apostle of Hardy!" She staggers upright, struggling not to gag. "Did you piss on me? Are you the Apostle of the God of Piss? Do we even have one of those?"
"I suppose you could say that it's concentrated piss. And as to which god favours me…" He raises his left hand again.
"Hello, Giselle."
"You-?! You can't take my dragon!"
"My bearer can take anything I want him to. I may be forced to play by your rules here, but I'm authorised by them too. And I have to tell you, I've been looking forwards to the time when I can finally do something about the moribund gods of this world."
Prince Diabo looks at me uncertainly. "Um. My god, I don't think that's a good idea."
"No? You handle her, then."
"Apostle Giselle, we're going to go to war soon. I'm sure it would do the Empire's forces good to have an Apostle with us. In return, I can instruct the dragon to do what you tell it to."
"It's my dragon!"
"And I can return the dragon to you at the end of the campaign, so long as you agree to keep it away from Sadera. And I can clean you up."
…
Giselle glowers. "Fine! But you have to clean me right now, and the food better be good!"
Ah, an Apostle. I was wondering-
She bends forwards to duck a sword swing, then spins, her scythe-. The staff part of her scythe sort of scooping up the Warrior Bunnies assailing her before sending them flying across the field. Ah… Looks like broken ribs and arms, plus the bruises from slamming into the hard ground and then rolling. Warrior Bunnies tend to be fairly stoical, but if Prince Diabo doesn't use me to heal them then they might not be fully fit by the time that we set out, even assuming that she didn't cause serious damage to their lungs or something.
Diabo clasps me with his right hand. "You know you said that I could become an Apostle?"
"Yes?"
"Is now a good time?"
"It's not a decision you should rush."
"The thing about rushing is that it lets you outrun the woman with the scythe coming to kill you."
"You can take her."
"Yes, but 'can' and 'will' aren't the same thing!"
"Even if I made you an Apostle right now, you'd still need time to spend time absorbing raw magic before you could start doing things like she can."
"Oh."
"YOU!" The Apostle marches closer, scythe swaying in her left hand and her right fist balled as she glares at Prince Diabo. "What are you doing with my dragon?!"
He takes a moment to better fake equanimity, drawing himself up as he does so. "I-."
Miss Marceau interposes herself, arrow on string and… Some sort of magic spell glowing around the arrowhead. Chief Eithne has dropped her staff and has drawn her sword, and a couple of the Warrior Bunnies the Apostle knocked aside are rising to their feet.
Prince Diabo, whatever you're going to say, make it good.
"Whatever I want. It's my dragon now."
Oh. Um. Not what I was expecting, but a good start. Keep it up.
The Apostle slows in her onwards march, scowling at him. "Who are you?"
"I am Prince Diabo El Caesar."
The Apostle gestures to the vacant-looking dragon. "That dragon is sacred to Hardy!"
"I make offerings to Hardy regularly as part of my-."
The Apostle blurs but Diabo is already responding, accelerating his own mental processes, forming construct gauntlets to shoves Miss Marceau and Chief Eithne aside-
Miss Marceau has already loosed her arrow, which the oncoming Apostle casually bats aside. It spins off, stabilises in mid air and then flies at her once again.
-before creating a construct tower shield directly in her path. She spots it, front flips so that the arrow shoots under her and hits the shield first and cracks it before doing a complete 360o spin in the air and bringing the blade of her scythe down-.
On where the now-absent shield was before she committed to the attack.
Diabo brings his two gauntlet constructs together hard, squishing the Apostle between them. He then generates construct armour around himself and rises off the ground. A construct sword would be fairly pointless and I agree with his decision not to make one, but-.
Oh. That's nasty.
As part of making primitive black powder we've had to work with a variety of unpleasant substances, and that has involved Prince Diabo becoming more familiar with ammonium nitrate than he'd like. As such, he's gotten familiar with some truly smelly substances and right now he's got a pressurised construct tank of the stuff connected to a construct hose which is pointed at her.
The Apostle punches her arms out to the sides, destroying the constructs…
"You-!"
More or less just in time to give Diabo a clear short with his concentrated ammonia stream. And unfortunately for her, she had her mouth open.
"Gwaaaghg-g-g-h-h-hhhh-ouwghgh-huuu!"
She's dropped her scythe and she's retching on the floor, tears streaming down her face and fingers impotently trying to wipe the liquid off her face but mostly just spreading it further.
"Oh, well done."
Miss Marceau stares for a moment, blinks, then her face crinkles up and she drops her bow so that both her hands can cover her nose. Chief Eithne looks dismayed, but limits herself to taking a few steps back. She joined in a tour of the powder works so she should have at least some idea what it is.
Prince Diabo cut off the stream. "Had enough?"
"This is disgusting!"
"I can remove it if you want. All you have to do is surrender."
"Neve-agkagkagkccuuuuuuh..!"
"Alright. Let's start with your name."
"How can you notuhhuhhuhh..!?"
"We only have a list of Apostles who have been in the Empire. I'm afraid that I don't know every Apostle in the world. Your wings are distinctive enough that I'm sure I would remember you if I'd heard of you before."
"I am Giselle, Apostle of Hardy!" She staggers upright, struggling not to gag. "Did you piss on me? Are you the Apostle of the God of Piss? Do we even have one of those?"
"I suppose you could say that it's concentrated piss. And as to which god favours me…" He raises his left hand again.
"Hello, Giselle."
"You-?! You can't take my dragon!"
"My bearer can take anything I want him to. I may be forced to play by your rules here, but I'm authorised by them too. And I have to tell you, I've been looking forwards to the time when I can finally do something about the moribund gods of this world."
Prince Diabo looks at me uncertainly. "Um. My god, I don't think that's a good idea."
"No? You handle her, then."
"Apostle Giselle, we're going to go to war soon. I'm sure it would do the Empire's forces good to have an Apostle with us. In return, I can instruct the dragon to do what you tell it to."
"It's my dragon!"
"And I can return the dragon to you at the end of the campaign, so long as you agree to keep it away from Sadera. And I can clean you up."
…
Giselle glowers. "Fine! But you have to clean me right now, and the food better be good!"
Last edited:
...Then again, OL probably has seen stranger, and no-one else is about to offend her like that. And he'll probably patch them up after the fight, since the lady might just break them again.
Right on the tongue!
I mean, if you look at each game as an emblem of an era of sci-fi movies... Mass Effect 1 as the Eighties, 2 as the Nineties' dark and edgy, 3 as the Noughts' shiny CG-fest... Just don't talk about any theoretical fourth game. 
