#page 525

[thestoopgallants]

[rapidpixeladventure]

Well, now or never. Go back to the right to save Gestalt.

{[GO: [RIGHT]}

The mech suit moves like an extension of yourself, thundering through the narrow tunnels. The back of the mech breaks the stalactites overhead as it scrapes against the roof.

The raw power cycling through the Mining Mech feels intoxicating, but even still the long rusted gears grind against one another as it struggles to stay together. Despite its strength, this mech feels like it could fall apart at any moment. You push onwards, to save your friend.

Gestalt is still alive, using a [Magic Shield] to stand their ground against the [Wounded Rot Ice Horror] Purple blood is oozing from the large hole in their chest but they still grip their sword as tightly as they can manage.

{Gestalt cast: [Shield] -4 MANA}

They turn around briefly to acknowledge your hulking new presence. 

Gestalt lowers their stance as the [Magic Shield] fades, ready to fight along side you.

It’s now or never.

{The machine is feeding off you… -2 MANA}

{You have 5 actions left before the Mining Mech consumes you.}

[STATUS](new!)[QUESTS][MAP]

What Should We Do Now?

[sharry-arry-odd]

What Ralph saw then would haunt his dreams for years to come. The left half of the outsider's head caved in as if it had been made of papier-mâché rather than bone. The brown eye jumped in its socket. The thing went to its knees, and its face seemed to liquefy. Ralph saw a hundred features slide across it in mere seconds, there and gone: high foreheads followed low ones, bushy eyebrows and ones so blond they were hardly there, deepset eyes and ones that bulged, lips both wide and thin. Buck teeth protruded, then disappeared; chins jutted and sank. Yet the last face, the one that lingered longest, almost certainly the outsider's true face, was utterly nondescript. It was the face of anyone you might pass on the street, seen at one moment and forgotten the next. Holly swung again, striking the cheekbone this time and driving the forgettable face into a hideous crescent. It looked like something out of an insane children's book. In the end, it's nothing, Ralph thought. Nobody. What looked like Claude, what looked like Terry, what looked like Heath Holmes . . . nothing. Only false fronts. Only stage dressing.

The Outsider, by Stephen King

[abookblogofepicproportions]

If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.

Sirius Black, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling

[becmarie8410]

"Don't punish yourself," she heard her say again, but there would be punishment and pain, and there would be happiness, too. That was writing.

The Book Thief, Markus Zusak