The Profane

H-hello(A Slay The Spire OC!)

[askblogtheprofane]

I can hear it...it's hurting...

H-hello you odd beings. T-the Ironclad showed me how to make this..."blog". I h-hope we can be f-friends. (OOC under cut!)

Whats good yall lmao. from the same person who brought you @askblogironclad we have an OC askblog!

M!Asks are allowed, but keep it reasonable.

No NSFW, politics, or any other crap.

The Profane is non-binary, so They/Them people!

Sinner's Speech=IC post View of Eden=OOC post Hurry Along=Response Da Child=Interacting with their fellow Slayers. Da Cult=Juicy LLLOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEE Scrollbearer=Posts on how they work mechanically!

once again, thank you @asketchydomesticatedgremlin for drawing my oc <3

[mazaleths-follower]

“One of Mazaleth’s brood? How did you get here? I’d have thought that your nut sized brain would prevent that, but i guess not. How’s your cult doing? Oh wait, you’re all in the fucking Underdocks.”

@askblogtheprofane

>:0

**Angry craw gasp**

OUR CULT IS MIGHTY POWERFUL, AND OUR NUMBER ARE GROWING.

AT LEAST THERE IS A FLOK OF US. NOT ONE, BLOODY CHILD!

[askblogtheprofane]

"WELL AT LEAST MY DEITY DIDN'T GET KILLED 5 MINUTES AFTER WE SUMMONED IT BECAUSE SOME ADVENTURERS STABBED THE HOST TO DEATH!"

"Don't you bring me into this."

[askblogtheprofane]

you got a favorite food? or foods?

"Papa makes really good...I think it's called Kielbasa?"

[askblogtheprofane]

Your most "Worth it" death?

"U-um, I-I don't know if any were 'worth it', so-"

Before Profane can finish, an odd looking creature seems to manifest out of their scroll case. It resembles a Black and Red Tortoiseshell Maine Coon, albiet with a third eye and a third pair of legs between it's front and back legs. It curls itself around Profane's neck, before the third eye glows purple, and a psychic voice is projected out.

"Kicking that warlord in the mouth."

Almost instantly Profane cracks a huge smile, giggling.

"Okay, that WAS worth it."

[sosaysthedefect]

(continuing from here)

Once everyone is well rested and prepared, The Defect presses onward into the final floor before the area's guardian.

Haunted House

You find yourself standing in some kind of lobby, met with (or rather, accosted by) a grotesque but chipper woman. "Ah, hello there! Welcome, welcome!" She greets. "Say, you're in luck! We've just updated our repertoire in the house... Guaranteed to haunt or your money back!"

It seems to be a fairly standard house of horrors, at least on the outside... What could be inside that could truly rattle you?

Enter (Fight a special encounter with a preset deck. Win for various rewards.)

Leave

The Defect looks back at The Ironclad and Profane, perplexed. It had no intentions of underestimating anything The Spire could throw at them, but at the same time... Well, if walking through a hallway full of plastic spiders is what it takes to reach the top, there's certainly worse things to experience. Frankly, after all the visceral festivities, a short jaunt through something visibly artificial might be a relief.

@askblogtheprofane @askblogironclad

[askblogironclad]

The Ironclad nods in agreement.

[sosaysthedefect]

"Great! Step on in, fellows!" You accept the odd woman's offer and step into the pitch dark house, still uncertain what, exactly, is supposed to scare you. "We've gone with a real chilling "my greatest failure" theming! Hope you get that feeling!"

Before you can wonder or even properly process what she said, the door slams shut behind you and a strange sensation overtakes your body. It's as if something is drifting into you before your thoughts start to feel... very... real.

The Defect, on its part, now feels incredibly worried and maybe a little stupid for being so reckless. As its vision comes into focus, the first thing it realizes is that it's standing in The Hive. Additionally, it can't detect The Ironclad or The Profane anywhere... It's about to call out for them when-

"01000110 01110010 01101001 01100101 01101110 01100100? 01001000 01100001 01110011 01110100 01100101 01101110!"

("Friend? Hasten!")

It freezes in place. Someone it hadn't heard in so, so long, stoking joy and dread in equal measures. The Defect looks ahead to see a robot of a similar model, though with a longer lower optic that glows teal to its own blue. Their signature Glass Orbs shimmer in the light. Swarms of bugs are scattered about in rains of jagged, red hot crystal shards. Flaw looks back at it, beckoning it over before charging ahead again.

The Defect looks down at its body, finding a once-familiar build, lithe but durable. A slightly more intact core, warm and shivering at once, filled with pre-Channeled Lightning. Though it remembers its newer techniques, it doesn't have the hardware to perform them.

It knows how this will end.

But that hungering naivete won't let it lie down. It wants to try. It dares to hope that things could have been different.

“49276d2068657265…!” 

("I'm here…!")

It rushes after Flaw, spurring itself even harder with desperation.

[askblogironclad]

For The Ironclad, he sees something that he’s lost long ago.

“Nisha? Are you there, my love?” A hand caresses his cheek.

He blinks, looking into the eyes of Volk, his former fiancée. They’re as beautiful as when he lost them.

“Of course, my rose.” His hand comes up and clasps theirs.

Volk nods, and waves Nisha into their tent. He knows what will happen. His love will be slain. And he will seek the holy demon.

[sosaysthedefect]

The end comes, as it knew it would. Though it poured all it could into its laser, it wasn't enough. An enraged swarm of Infested Prisms flood out of the hives, and The Defect's exhaustion only permits it to watch as the infernal insects come dangerously close to shattering its core, then descend on Flaw.

Broken limbs refuse to move. No trills nor beeps escape its voice box, clogged with corrosive, sticky venom. Its core is only barely held together. How cruel, then, that its sight and hearing are preserved in crystal clarity, helpless to watch as its only friend in so many years is subsumed and infested.

For a moment, they look back at it, and The Defect wonders, as it has so many times ever since that day.

('Do they hate me?')

It can't tell what makes it black out in the end; the damage overwhelming it, or pure, unbridled despair.

You suddenly jolt awake, as if torn from a nightmare. Perplexingly, despite the terrible injuries you suffered in that much-too-real dream, you're completely unscathed. If anything, at least physically, you're even healthier than ever... But you feel the ache of reopened wounds on your heart the most.

The woman and her haunted house are nowhere to be seen, but you do have a thank you note in hand and a small goodie bag of treasures. Does that make it worth it...?

Gain 15 Max HP. Heal to full. Gain a random Rare Relic. Become Cursed Twice - Shame and Cursed - Grief.

The Defect stands up, still dazed and exhausted from the experience. The poor thing, still so tender hearted, shrinks in on itself as if to hide. It looks around for its companions worriedly, as if trying to prove something to itself... Or perhaps to get its mind off the gnawing shame in its heart.

[askblogironclad]

Cursed Twice-Regret and Cursed-Grief

The Ironclad wishes naught to make what he experienced known. But he pats Defect on the head, only being able to imagine what it went through.

[askblogtheprofane]

Cursed Twice-Exhaustion and Cursed-Grief.

Exhaustion: Rarity: Curse Cost: N/A Type: Curse Effect(s): Unplayable. If this is in your hand at the end of your turn, lose 1 Energy next turn.

As Profane trudges through the path LS is telling them to go, they can't help but feel...tired. So, so tired. As they cross one final entranceway, they end up with Ironclad and Defect. They cling to their Papa's leg, happy to see a lifeline.

[askblogtheprofane]

As a tradition, I must ask. Your thoughts on the other Slayers?

O-oh! The others? W-well...

Papa is the one I met first. He's so n-nice to me, always making s-sure to protect me...but I can see the threads hanging from him. Something has him under its s-spell.

Miss Silent is also n-nice. She doesn't talk much, but she's good at s-sign language! G-granted I'm n-not the best at seeing that sign language, b-but I can always get the basics.

Mr. Regent is...annoying. He t-talks a lot.

Miss Necrobinder is...okay. She's n-not mean, but she's a bit...one track minded. Too focused on "Revenge". Osty is f-friendly!

Mx. Defect is fun! I only met it recently, but it's really nice! I'm also one of the f-few people who understand it. C-comes with being a S-Scrollbearer.

T-there's also her, but she said not to mention her to the others.

I-I can also do the o-other newer slayers if anyone wants.

[sosaysthedefect]

(continuing from here)

Once everyone is well rested and prepared, The Defect presses onward into the final floor before the area's guardian.

Haunted House

You find yourself standing in some kind of lobby, met with (or rather, accosted by) a grotesque but chipper woman. "Ah, hello there! Welcome, welcome!" She greets. "Say, you're in luck! We've just updated our repertoire in the house... Guaranteed to haunt or your money back!"

It seems to be a fairly standard house of horrors, at least on the outside... What could be inside that could truly rattle you?

Enter (Fight a special encounter with a preset deck. Win for various rewards.)

Leave

The Defect looks back at The Ironclad and Profane, perplexed. It had no intentions of underestimating anything The Spire could throw at them, but at the same time... Well, if walking through a hallway full of plastic spiders is what it takes to reach the top, there's certainly worse things to experience. Frankly, after all the visceral festivities, a short jaunt through something visibly artificial might be a relief.

@askblogtheprofane @askblogironclad

[askblogironclad]

The Ironclad nods in agreement.

[sosaysthedefect]

"Great! Step on in, fellows!" You accept the odd woman's offer and step into the pitch dark house, still uncertain what, exactly, is supposed to scare you. "We've gone with a real chilling "my greatest failure" theming! Hope you get that feeling!"

Before you can wonder or even properly process what she said, the door slams shut behind you and a strange sensation overtakes your body. It's as if something is drifting into you before your thoughts start to feel... very... real.

The Defect, on its part, now feels incredibly worried and maybe a little stupid for being so reckless. As its vision comes into focus, the first thing it realizes is that it's standing in The Hive. Additionally, it can't detect The Ironclad or The Profane anywhere... It's about to call out for them when-

"01000110 01110010 01101001 01100101 01101110 01100100? 01001000 01100001 01110011 01110100 01100101 01101110!"

("Friend? Hasten!")

It freezes in place. Someone it hadn't heard in so, so long, stoking joy and dread in equal measures. The Defect looks ahead to see a robot of a similar model, though with a longer lower optic that glows teal to its own blue. Their signature Glass Orbs shimmer in the light. Swarms of bugs are scattered about in rains of jagged, red hot crystal shards. Flaw looks back at it, beckoning it over before charging ahead again.

The Defect looks down at its body, finding a once-familiar build, lithe but durable. A slightly more intact core, warm and shivering at once, filled with pre-Channeled Lightning. Though it remembers its newer techniques, it doesn't have the hardware to perform them.

It knows how this will end.

But that hungering naivete won't let it lie down. It wants to try. It dares to hope that things could have been different.

“49276d2068657265…!” 

("I'm here…!")

It rushes after Flaw, spurring itself even harder with desperation.

[askblogtheprofane]

Profane is transported back to the moment that they became the bearer.

Profane had slashed the throat open of their closest friend, and from the wound, emerged the Lord of Speech in all of it's glory. Ledgemon, the leader of the cult, stepped forward.

"Hail my master! I have called you here to do our bidding, and CRUSH those filthy byrd-fuckers!" He shouted out zealously, met with cheers from the cult.

The many eyes that dotted the mouths of the Lord of Speech blinked a few times, before hundreds upon thousands of voices spoke at once, the voice of the gods.

"But thou art not whomst summoned me."

Ledgemon looked confused. "B-but milord! The ritual-"

"You did not preform the sacrifice Ledgemon. Thus, you did not summon me." The godly avatar scanned the crowd. "WHO HERE SUMMONED ME!"

Profane slowly raised their tentacled arm. "U-um, t-that was m-m-me..."

The Lord of Speech looked towards The Profane, noticed the dagger in their non-tentacle hand, and nodded. "Then you are whom shall become my Scrollbearer."

Ledgemon looked enraged. He grabbed Profane's regular arm, ready to beat them. "YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!" He raised a hand, and Profane winced in preparation for the strike.

But it never came. Ledgemon was sent reeling by an expulsive force from the godly avatar.

"No." The Lord of Speech covered Profane's ears, before doing something that they would never forget. It screamed.

One by one, each and every cultist's head popped, ending with Ledgemon. Once it was finished, the godly avatar slipped into the Scroll of Sin, which laid beside the sacrifice altar, and waited for Profane to pick it up.

After a few minutes of shaking in the fetal position from watching their entire "family" die and killing their only friend, they adjusted their robes, grabbed the too-big scroll case Ledgemon had planned to use, and slid the Scroll in. Then, after looking back one final time, they left. But the self hate, the guilt, the GRIEF lingered.

[sosaysthedefect]

(continuing from here)

Once everyone is well rested and prepared, The Defect presses onward into the final floor before the area's guardian.

Haunted House

You find yourself standing in some kind of lobby, met with (or rather, accosted by) a grotesque but chipper woman. "Ah, hello there! Welcome, welcome!" She greets. "Say, you're in luck! We've just updated our repertoire in the house... Guaranteed to haunt or your money back!"

It seems to be a fairly standard house of horrors, at least on the outside... What could be inside that could truly rattle you?

Enter (Fight a special encounter with a preset deck. Win for various rewards.)

Leave

The Defect looks back at The Ironclad and Profane, perplexed. It had no intentions of underestimating anything The Spire could throw at them, but at the same time... Well, if walking through a hallway full of plastic spiders is what it takes to reach the top, there's certainly worse things to experience. Frankly, after all the visceral festivities, a short jaunt through something visibly artificial might be a relief.

@askblogtheprofane @askblogironclad

[askblogtheprofane]

The Profane is also fine with it.

[mellodonna-art]

(feat. @askblogtheprofane )

[askblogtheprofane]

(AHHHH YES!)

[sosaysthedefect]

(continuing from here)

As the group emerges back into the thriving carnival, there's a fork in the path. The left path is thick with the surprisingly appetizing smell of cooking meat and spices, almost overpowering the stench of rotting carcasses, while the right is a series of stalls and tents full of games and prizes for those who win them.

The Defect looks down at the map again, seeing that the left path immediately leads to an Elite battle, while the right has a rest stop up ahead. It holds it up to The Ironclad and Profane, as if asking for their input. They can't stay for long, but they shouldn't be hasty either.

Where to go...?

Feasting

Games

Voting ended onApr 21

[askblogtheprofane]

The Profane, much like their Parent, is drawn to the scent of meat.

[askblogironclad]

The Ironclad picks up his child and marches towards the smell of spiced meat.

[sosaysthedefect]

The Defect, outnumbered, follows after the two to see what the fuss is about.

Eating Contest

As you enter a particularly delicious smelling tent, you are met with the sight of a handful of people devouring the body of some sort of creature on a spit with hungering fixation. As the carcass is reduced to bones, the last to finish is suddenly transformed into another beast, already partway through cooking, then skewered, before the cycle continues. A referee of some kind cheers and screams about the carnage, in tune with the audience's cheers. It appears you came in right before the last round, and the prize is a positively ginormous golden trophy... Albeit one piled high with still-bloody offal.

Since everyone's distracted, you elect to...

Sneak some meat (Remove 2 random cards from your deck. Lose 10 Max HP.)

Steal the trophy (Gain 105 gold. 50%: Gain a special Relic)

Champion's Feast: Lose 10 HP at the start of combat. When losing HP or taking damage, heal 3 HP and gain 1 Strength that turn.

The Defect turns to look at the trophy, appraising its value. It doesn't seem to be made of solid gold, but the gold that is there is the real deal. It looks to its party, subtly gesturing its head towards the grand prize, but still awaiting their input.

[askblogironclad]

The Ironclad slowly puts down The Profane, who quickly hides behind the Defect, and slowly, carefully, attempts to steal the trophy.

[sosaysthedefect]

Success! You manage to weave through the crowd and pilfer the trophy with no one the wiser. Though, the last you hear of the event as you leave is the crowd calling for another round with no mention of an award ceremony... Was anyone even going to win this?

The Defect swiftly follows The Ironclad out of the tent, herding The Profane out with it, and soon settles down at the rest site up ahead. The usual logs and whatnot are actually benches this time around, albeit made of what is hopefully stone and not something more grisly...

It lets out a soft hiss of steam, enjoying some real quiet while it can. It seems whatever magic in The Spire grants them these moments of respite included some noise cancelling or some such.

[askblogironclad]

The Ironclad takes the chance to Rest, having taken a deceptive amount of damage before meeting up with the Defect.

[askblogtheprofane]

The Profane on the other hand, uses the time to Upgrade their new shiny Pronged Dagger. Pronged Dagger+ (Cost: 1, Type: Attack, Effect(s): Syllable Fal. Deal 15 damage. If Fatal, permanently increase this card’s damage by 3. Exhaust.)

[sosaysthedefect]

The Defect, after appraising itself, concludes that it is not in dire need of repairs. It contemplates improving one of its techniques, but sees The Ironclad taking the time to ease himself and approaches with some bandages and the like. It chirps at him inquisitively, asking if he would like assistance.

It also looks back at The Profane for a moment, still wondering what the story is with them... But that can wait for a moment.

[askblogironclad]

I’m…okay…D. Just…winded.

[sosaysthedefect]

It tilts its head aside, unconvinced. It tends to what it can in the meantime anyway, especially when that trophy relic demanded quite the upfront cost to activate.

As it works with mechanical precision, it buzzes again, gesturing to The Profane. They seem to have grown quite attached to him already.

[askblogironclad]

The Ironclad smiles smiles under his helmet, giving The Profane a big ol hug.

My…child…now.

[askblogtheprofane]

The Profane smiles, then suddenly remembers their Miniature Tent, using the opportunity to Mend The Ironclad, who doesn't resist.

[sosaysthedefect]

The Defect puts a claw to its face and makes a brief, soft tone that almost sounds like a "squee!". Seeing people care for each other just gave it the sweetest feeling. It looks The Profane over a bit, checking if they had any particular injuries it could patch up.

It also whirs at them a little, curious. It seems interested in their scroll.

[askblogtheprofane]

They're completely unscathed, which you suspect is the reason The Ironclad is as beat up as he is.

O-oh! M-my scroll? They uncork it, and out flies the Scroll of Sin. The Defect's sensors can't detect anything from it except three words.

WORLD ENDING THREAT

I-it's...special.

[sosaysthedefect]

(continuing from here)

As the group emerges back into the thriving carnival, there's a fork in the path. The left path is thick with the surprisingly appetizing smell of cooking meat and spices, almost overpowering the stench of rotting carcasses, while the right is a series of stalls and tents full of games and prizes for those who win them.

The Defect looks down at the map again, seeing that the left path immediately leads to an Elite battle, while the right has a rest stop up ahead. It holds it up to The Ironclad and Profane, as if asking for their input. They can't stay for long, but they shouldn't be hasty either.

Where to go...?

Feasting

Games

Voting ended onApr 21

[askblogtheprofane]

The Profane, much like their Parent, is drawn to the scent of meat.

[askblogironclad]

The Ironclad picks up his child and marches towards the smell of spiced meat.

[sosaysthedefect]

The Defect, outnumbered, follows after the two to see what the fuss is about.

Eating Contest

As you enter a particularly delicious smelling tent, you are met with the sight of a handful of people devouring the body of some sort of creature on a spit with hungering fixation. As the carcass is reduced to bones, the last to finish is suddenly transformed into another beast, already partway through cooking, then skewered, before the cycle continues. A referee of some kind cheers and screams about the carnage, in tune with the audience's cheers. It appears you came in right before the last round, and the prize is a positively ginormous golden trophy... Albeit one piled high with still-bloody offal.

Since everyone's distracted, you elect to...

Sneak some meat (Remove 2 random cards from your deck. Lose 10 Max HP.)

Steal the trophy (Gain 105 gold. 50%: Gain a special Relic)

Champion's Feast: Lose 10 HP at the start of combat. When losing HP or taking damage, heal 3 HP and gain 1 Strength that turn.

The Defect turns to look at the trophy, appraising its value. It doesn't seem to be made of solid gold, but the gold that is there is the real deal. It looks to its party, subtly gesturing its head towards the grand prize, but still awaiting their input.

[askblogironclad]

The Ironclad slowly puts down The Profane, who quickly hides behind the Defect, and slowly, carefully, attempts to steal the trophy.

[sosaysthedefect]

Success! You manage to weave through the crowd and pilfer the trophy with no one the wiser. Though, the last you hear of the event as you leave is the crowd calling for another round with no mention of an award ceremony... Was anyone even going to win this?

The Defect swiftly follows The Ironclad out of the tent, herding The Profane out with it, and soon settles down at the rest site up ahead. The usual logs and whatnot are actually benches this time around, albeit made of what is hopefully stone and not something more grisly...

It lets out a soft hiss of steam, enjoying some real quiet while it can. It seems whatever magic in The Spire grants them these moments of respite included some noise cancelling or some such.

[askblogironclad]

The Ironclad takes the chance to Rest, having taken a deceptive amount of damage before meeting up with the Defect.

[askblogtheprofane]

The Profane on the other hand, uses the time to Upgrade their new shiny Pronged Dagger. Pronged Dagger+ (Cost: 1, Type: Attack, Effect(s): Syllable Fal. Deal 15 damage. If Fatal, permanently increase this card’s damage by 3. Exhaust.)

[sosaysthedefect]

The Defect, after appraising itself, concludes that it is not in dire need of repairs. It contemplates improving one of its techniques, but sees The Ironclad taking the time to ease himself and approaches with some bandages and the like. It chirps at him inquisitively, asking if he would like assistance.

It also looks back at The Profane for a moment, still wondering what the story is with them... But that can wait for a moment.

[askblogironclad]

I’m…okay…D. Just…winded.

[sosaysthedefect]

It tilts its head aside, unconvinced. It tends to what it can in the meantime anyway, especially when that trophy relic demanded quite the upfront cost to activate.

As it works with mechanical precision, it buzzes again, gesturing to The Profane. They seem to have grown quite attached to him already.

[askblogironclad]

The Ironclad smiles smiles under his helmet, giving The Profane a big ol hug.

My…child…now.

[askblogtheprofane]

The Profane smiles, then suddenly remembers their Miniature Tent, using the opportunity to Mend The Ironclad, who doesn't resist.

[askblogtheprofane]

A child? Neow has recruited a child to fight the architect? I guess more hands are always helpful but…

@the-necrobinder

I-I can fight!

[sosaysthedefect]

(continuing from here)

As the group emerges back into the thriving carnival, there's a fork in the path. The left path is thick with the surprisingly appetizing smell of cooking meat and spices, almost overpowering the stench of rotting carcasses, while the right is a series of stalls and tents full of games and prizes for those who win them.

The Defect looks down at the map again, seeing that the left path immediately leads to an Elite battle, while the right has a rest stop up ahead. It holds it up to The Ironclad and Profane, as if asking for their input. They can't stay for long, but they shouldn't be hasty either.

Where to go...?

Feasting

Games

Voting ended onApr 21

[askblogtheprofane]

The Profane, much like their Parent, is drawn to the scent of meat.

[askblogironclad]

The Ironclad picks up his child and marches towards the smell of spiced meat.

[sosaysthedefect]

The Defect, outnumbered, follows after the two to see what the fuss is about.

Eating Contest

As you enter a particularly delicious smelling tent, you are met with the sight of a handful of people devouring the body of some sort of creature on a spit with hungering fixation. As the carcass is reduced to bones, the last to finish is suddenly transformed into another beast, already partway through cooking, then skewered, before the cycle continues. A referee of some kind cheers and screams about the carnage, in tune with the audience's cheers. It appears you came in right before the last round, and the prize is a positively ginormous golden trophy... Albeit one piled high with still-bloody offal.

Since everyone's distracted, you elect to...

Sneak some meat (Remove 2 random cards from your deck. Lose 10 Max HP.)

Steal the trophy (Gain 105 gold. 50%: Gain a special Relic)

Champion's Feast: Lose 10 HP at the start of combat. When losing HP or taking damage, heal 3 HP and gain 1 Strength that turn.

The Defect turns to look at the trophy, appraising its value. It doesn't seem to be made of solid gold, but the gold that is there is the real deal. It looks to its party, subtly gesturing its head towards the grand prize, but still awaiting their input.

[askblogironclad]

The Ironclad slowly puts down The Profane, who quickly hides behind the Defect, and slowly, carefully, attempts to steal the trophy.

[sosaysthedefect]

Success! You manage to weave through the crowd and pilfer the trophy with no one the wiser. Though, the last you hear of the event as you leave is the crowd calling for another round with no mention of an award ceremony... Was anyone even going to win this?

The Defect swiftly follows The Ironclad out of the tent, herding The Profane out with it, and soon settles down at the rest site up ahead. The usual logs and whatnot are actually benches this time around, albeit made of what is hopefully stone and not something more grisly...

It lets out a soft hiss of steam, enjoying some real quiet while it can. It seems whatever magic in The Spire grants them these moments of respite included some noise cancelling or some such.

[askblogironclad]

The Ironclad takes the chance to Rest, having taken a deceptive amount of damage before meeting up with the Defect.

[askblogtheprofane]

The Profane on the other hand, uses the time to Upgrade their new shiny Pronged Dagger. Pronged Dagger+ (Cost: 1, Type: Attack, Effect(s): Syllable Fal. Deal 15 damage. If Fatal, permanently increase this card’s damage by 3. Exhaust.)

[sosaysthedefect]

The Defect, after appraising itself, concludes that it is not in dire need of repairs. It contemplates improving one of its techniques, but sees The Ironclad taking the time to ease himself and approaches with some bandages and the like. It chirps at him inquisitively, asking if he would like assistance.

It also looks back at The Profane for a moment, still wondering what the story is with them... But that can wait for a moment.

[sosaysthedefect]

(continuing from here)

As the group emerges back into the thriving carnival, there's a fork in the path. The left path is thick with the surprisingly appetizing smell of cooking meat and spices, almost overpowering the stench of rotting carcasses, while the right is a series of stalls and tents full of games and prizes for those who win them.

The Defect looks down at the map again, seeing that the left path immediately leads to an Elite battle, while the right has a rest stop up ahead. It holds it up to The Ironclad and Profane, as if asking for their input. They can't stay for long, but they shouldn't be hasty either.

Where to go...?

Feasting

Games

Voting ended onApr 21

[askblogtheprofane]

The Profane, much like their Parent, is drawn to the scent of meat.

[askblogironclad]

The Ironclad picks up his child and marches towards the smell of spiced meat.

[sosaysthedefect]

The Defect, outnumbered, follows after the two to see what the fuss is about.

Eating Contest

As you enter a particularly delicious smelling tent, you are met with the sight of a handful of people devouring the body of some sort of creature on a spit with hungering fixation. As the carcass is reduced to bones, the last to finish is suddenly transformed into another beast, already partway through cooking, then skewered, before the cycle continues. A referee of some kind cheers and screams about the carnage, in tune with the audience's cheers. It appears you came in right before the last round, and the prize is a positively ginormous golden trophy... Albeit one piled high with still-bloody offal.

Since everyone's distracted, you elect to...

Sneak some meat (Remove 2 random cards from your deck. Lose 10 Max HP.)

Steal the trophy (Gain 105 gold. 50%: Gain a special Relic)

Champion's Feast: Lose 10 HP at the start of combat. When losing HP or taking damage, heal 3 HP and gain 1 Strength that turn.

The Defect turns to look at the trophy, appraising its value. It doesn't seem to be made of solid gold, but the gold that is there is the real deal. It looks to its party, subtly gesturing its head towards the grand prize, but still awaiting their input.

[askblogironclad]

The Ironclad slowly puts down The Profane, who quickly hides behind the Defect, and slowly, carefully, attempts to steal the trophy.

[sosaysthedefect]

Success! You manage to weave through the crowd and pilfer the trophy with no one the wiser. Though, the last you hear of the event as you leave is the crowd calling for another round with no mention of an award ceremony... Was anyone even going to win this?

The Defect swiftly follows The Ironclad out of the tent, herding The Profane out with it, and soon settles down at the rest site up ahead. The usual logs and whatnot are actually benches this time around, albeit made of what is hopefully stone and not something more grisly...

It lets out a soft hiss of steam, enjoying some real quiet while it can. It seems whatever magic in The Spire grants them these moments of respite included some noise cancelling or some such.

[askblogironclad]

The Ironclad takes the chance to Rest, having taken a deceptive amount of damage before meeting up with the Defect.

[askblogtheprofane]

The Profane on the other hand, uses the time to Upgrade their new shiny Pronged Dagger. Pronged Dagger+ (Cost: 1, Type: Attack, Effect(s): Syllable Fal. Deal 15 damage. If Fatal, permanently increase this card’s damage by 3. Exhaust.)

[sosaysthedefect]

(continuing from here)

As the group emerges back into the thriving carnival, there's a fork in the path. The left path is thick with the surprisingly appetizing smell of cooking meat and spices, almost overpowering the stench of rotting carcasses, while the right is a series of stalls and tents full of games and prizes for those who win them.

The Defect looks down at the map again, seeing that the left path immediately leads to an Elite battle, while the right has a rest stop up ahead. It holds it up to The Ironclad and Profane, as if asking for their input. They can't stay for long, but they shouldn't be hasty either.

Where to go...?

Feasting

Games

Voting ended onApr 21

[askblogtheprofane]

The Profane, much like their Parent, is drawn to the scent of meat.

[sosaysthedefect]

Amidst the new scenery of meat, mayhem, and merriment, a giant tent stands out and above the rest of the stands. Red and purple fabric backdrops a very familiar design, an enlarged version of a mask the Climbers had seen many times before. No matter the place, the Merchant always seems to cross paths, although perhaps more extravagant about advertising than in previous levels of the Spire. No matter where you look, there's some kind of poster or sticker advertising their tent.

[ @the-real-spires-merchant ]

(continuing from here)

The Defect rushes into the tent, some of the tension in its posture dissipating as things become a little quieter. It looks to The Merchant and waves at them, already preparing its gold for any purchases it may want. That Ice Cream already caught its eye, but it should consider all options.

It looks behind itself as well to ensure its companions didn't get lost in the shuffle. Besides, surely The Ironclad and his... Small child? It assumes?? Wanted something too, if they had the funds.

(@askblogironclad @askblogtheprofane )

[the-real-spires-merchant]

Welcome in, welcome in, nice to see you're all doing well! Having fun, I hope?

*Alongside the Ice Cream and many more food items than the Merchant usually sold, they show some of their wares to the Defect.*

Who's the little one with your scary companion? Not often you see a new face 'round here.

[askblogtheprofane]

The Profane shyly waves to the Merchant.

H-hi...

[sosaysthedefect]

The Defect shrugs in relation to The Profane, but chirps protectively over them nonetheless. It briefly takes out its map and circles the nearest Rest Site, hoping to get some proper conversation in there.

As for "fun", it makes an "eehhhh??" motion with its hand. In theory it could be, but everything was a bit too much for it at the moment, shown as it projects the high processing numbers it's dealing with even in a place of relative peace.

Still, at the moment it's got purchases to make. It whirs and buzzes in contemplation before snagging the Happy Flower, the Runic Capacitor, and a copy of Refract. It wanted to also get the Ice Cream but was (an incredibly disappointing) three gold short.

It pauses for a moment and then looks over at The Ironclad pleadingly, sheepishly tapping its claws together. Please don't make it ask the baby for financial aid-

[askblogironclad]

He tosses the Defect some gold, rubbing The Profane’s hood-clad head.

[askblogtheprofane]

They make happy chirping sounds.

[the-real-spires-merchant]

*The Merchant chuckles, and after accepting their payment, leans closer to The Profane and speaks under hushed breaths.*

Y'know what, just for you kiddo, I'll let you have this on the house. Think of it as a future investment, 'ight?

*They hand them a cone of Ice Cream, although evidently missing two of the three flavors.*

Just don't tell your companions there, got it? Don't want them to think I'm spoilin' ya.

*They wink. Probably. It's hard to tell.*

[askblogtheprofane]

The Profane smiles and nods, following the others out.

As they leave, The Merchant hears a single word, seemingly originating from the case The Profane wears.

"Fortune."

Ice Cream??? gained! 1 Energy is conserved between turns.

[sosaysthedefect]

Amidst the new scenery of meat, mayhem, and merriment, a giant tent stands out and above the rest of the stands. Red and purple fabric backdrops a very familiar design, an enlarged version of a mask the Climbers had seen many times before. No matter the place, the Merchant always seems to cross paths, although perhaps more extravagant about advertising than in previous levels of the Spire. No matter where you look, there's some kind of poster or sticker advertising their tent.

[ @the-real-spires-merchant ]

(continuing from here)

The Defect rushes into the tent, some of the tension in its posture dissipating as things become a little quieter. It looks to The Merchant and waves at them, already preparing its gold for any purchases it may want. That Ice Cream already caught its eye, but it should consider all options.

It looks behind itself as well to ensure its companions didn't get lost in the shuffle. Besides, surely The Ironclad and his... Small child? It assumes?? Wanted something too, if they had the funds.

(@askblogironclad @askblogtheprofane )

[the-real-spires-merchant]

Welcome in, welcome in, nice to see you're all doing well! Having fun, I hope?

*Alongside the Ice Cream and many more food items than the Merchant usually sold, they show some of their wares to the Defect.*

Who's the little one with your scary companion? Not often you see a new face 'round here.

[askblogtheprofane]

The Profane shyly waves to the Merchant.

H-hi...

[sosaysthedefect]

The Defect shrugs in relation to The Profane, but chirps protectively over them nonetheless. It briefly takes out its map and circles the nearest Rest Site, hoping to get some proper conversation in there.

As for "fun", it makes an "eehhhh??" motion with its hand. In theory it could be, but everything was a bit too much for it at the moment, shown as it projects the high processing numbers it's dealing with even in a place of relative peace.

Still, at the moment it's got purchases to make. It whirs and buzzes in contemplation before snagging the Happy Flower, the Runic Capacitor, and a copy of Refract. It wanted to also get the Ice Cream but was (an incredibly disappointing) three gold short.

It pauses for a moment and then looks over at The Ironclad pleadingly, sheepishly tapping its claws together. Please don't make it ask the baby for financial aid-

[askblogironclad]

He tosses the Defect some gold, rubbing The Profane’s hood-clad head.

[askblogtheprofane]

They make happy chirping sounds.