#sebastian fetch

[vonbaghager]

Seib'Ian-Netch, the Aberrant, the Mother of Monsters

A god born of mortal greed can certainly prove that it's possible to have too much of a good thing.

It's said that the Aberrant is not an elder, but rather a newborn. A mortal who, like the Liar, sought out powers beyond it, but unlike the Liar the mortal was not built to handle the sheer weight of the other elder's presence and collapsed in on itseld. The power that allowed them entry kept them alive but in a state of flux and, in a panic, the newborn god sought refuge in the closest thing it could: The Coffers.

Though the god itself is little more than a fluctuating mass of corrupted life energy, it has made a body out of the flesh-universe that is the Coffers. The Aberrant and the Coffers exist in unison, and some believe that they are one and the same, when the reality of it is that the Aberrant is more akin to a cancer. It is easy to tell when you have entered the Aberrant's realm: The red raw flesh and bone of the Coffers gives way to colorful but diseased-looking skin dotted with mad-looking eyes as what personalities and thoughts it can scavenge from the Coffers grant themselves a portion of its twisted "life."

The same twisted life can be passed onto its followers. Those who praise the Coffers often find themselves communing with the Aberrant instead, as the former cares little for mortals unless they're offering themselves to be absorbed. It is not, however, unusual for mortals to find out about the Aberrant's existence and worship it directly, due to the... Impact it has when summoned.

The Aberrant first appears as a flash of brilliant but unsettling light, its true form, before becoming cloaked in layers of undulating, constantly-mutating flesh. Its summoning must be carefully regulated, or else it will spread. Whether by spores, burrowing flesh tentacles, or exposure to its true form, life around it from the smallest bacteria to the mortals responsible for its summoning will become corrupt. The Aberrant sees all life as "incorrect" and "incomplete," and will use every talent at its disposal to assure "correction" of faulty designs. No matter how it twists and transforms them, though, it will never see them as anything but "wrong," crushing them back into primal biomass to start restructuring them again and again.

Its essence can easily overtake huge sections of land if not controlled properly, turning it into a corrupted ecosystem where life both recognizable and not intermingles and continues growing like a plague across a world. Some whole planets have been lost to the corruption, the new worlds flinging out titanic "seeds" of the same malefic transformative energy the god is made of to other worlds to continue the cycle, terraforming them in an endless effort to reach the god's unobtainable vision of perfection.

Followers who are careful in their summoning are gifted with incredible regenerative powers and the ability to reshape themselves on a whim, adapting to any situation they desire within moments. However, in the end, many of them will be unable to contain the power and devolve into cancerous masses of tissue that explode into spores to begin the "Malshaping" process anyway. Those who do manage to control their bodies long enough end up with their minds destroyed and warped, and they become just another monster birthed by the Aberrant. There are no happy endings with this god, but many who contact it either do not know or do not care.

[vonbaghager]

Even though I already have a plague doctor (though not a troll, and certainly not concerned with curing sickness) I kind of want to make another after learning that they'd wash their clothing in perfume as a precaution against miasma.

I already knew about the herbs and such they kept in their mask but the thought of a doctor being heralded by a super strong sickly-sweet stank is more amusing to me than it should be.

[vonbaghager]

Notes of Sebastian Fetch

346 years ago, the Game started.

345 years ago, I found the Game could not be won.

344 years ago, I tried anyway. I tried so hard. I watched Skaia burn under the Reckoning.

343 years ago, I stared at the fires until they died down.

341 years ago, I cried for everything I've lost. I died for the first time. I woke up again for the first time.

340 years ago, I ran out of tears and instead used my pain to escape the Hell I made for myself.

339 years ago, I attempted to escape further. I poured all the power from my body and into the land, trying to grant it the life I no longer wanted. I died. And I awoke as a God.

338 years ago, I went mad.

335 years ago, I had carved all the weakness from my form. I run out of sadness to express or madness to submit to.

334 years ago, I replaced my sadness with hope. There must be a way for me to win, still.

333 years ago, I began to gather all the books from my Land.

330 years ago, I sat down and began reading.

295 years ago, I traveled to the ruins of Skaia to scavenge more knowledge from the Battlefield.

291 years ago, I walked among Derse and Prospit to find still more.

280 years ago, I craved the company of someone aside from the roaches and enemies. So I researched.

272 years ago, I had resurrected the Prospitan race from its fallen.

271 years ago, I had created a city for them from the grist I had accrued. I protected them from the Dersites until they flourished.

267 years ago, I had found my calling. I stepped onto the Battlefield and began giving back. I poured my power into the land and began to make it rise from the ashes.

260 years ago, I discovered I could create living material from grist, and shape it to my liking.

259 years ago, I guided evolution.

247 years ago, I evolved.

206 years ago, Skaia was living once more. The Prospitans and Dersites lived on it with some semblance of peace. I watched over them like the God I was to make sure their new home was to their liking.

205 years ago, I became bored.

204 years ago, I became so very bored.

203 years ago, I used the neverending grist to construct vast metropolises on Skaia to alleviate my growing ennui.

187 years ago, I flew to Prospit, Derse and my own land to do the same.

180 years ago, I found so many flaws in my form, I used the grist and my own magic to begin changing myself. The cosmos deserved a better God than I, so I made myself that God.

176 years ago, I became something other than human. But I had to go further.

172 years ago, I became something beautiful.

150 years ago, I became bored once more.

149 years ago, I crashed Derse into my Land, and Prospit into Skaia.

148 years ago, I crashed my Land and Derse into Skaia.

147 years ago, I watched Skaia burn for the second time.

142 years ago, I merged the planets together as best I could and began construction of living and nonliving alike once more.

119 years ago, Skaia was filled with life, both of the game's design and my own, suited for the dramatically different biomes that were now present.

115 years ago, I began to toy with what I made. Introducing mutations, diseases or lifeforms never before seen to observe how the natives coped with it.

114 years ago, I was no longer bored. I had a whole world to experiment with. I became known as a Mad God, giving and taking as I pleased.

113 years ago, they tried to kill me. They failed.

110 years ago, I started a war between Prospit and Derse to see who would win.

98 years ago, I introduced new living weapons to each side.

90 years ago, I appeared before the winning side and struck them with an affliction that allowed the losing side to prevail.

87 years ago, I restored balance and a tense peace between them.

70 year ago, I grew bored with peace.

69 years ago, I grew bored with war.

68 years ago, I grew bored with peace.

65 years ago, I grew bored with war.

60 years ago, I grew bored with peace.

54 years ago, I grew bored with war.

50 years ago, I mixed a few of the populace together to form a new, third faction. Beings of grey. I know not what to call them.

48 years ago, the grey beings had claimed a third of the planet. I made them without compassion or reason. Black and white joined to fight grey.

44 years ago, I bred compassion and reason into them. When they came to realize what their predecessors had done, they broke up and retreated to the far corners of the world to escape judgment and their own sins.

40 years ago, I grew bored with peace.

30 years ago, I grew bored with war.

28 years ago, I rewarded the grey with an overabundance of food.

27 years ago, black and white found out. It did not take long for them to begin their own war for this source. Despite all I've given them, they want more. Greedy creatures.

20 years ago, I grew bored with war.

15 years ago, I took time to explore off the planet, sitting back to see how they would do when I returned. I floated about the cosmos, examining the Veil.

7 years ago, I had created a base of operations in a lab I found within the meteorites, a place I could retreat to when I wished to see how the world changed without my influence.

6 years ago, I grew bored with waiting. I grew bored with peace. But I had resolved to wait.

5 years ago, I sent meteors filled with exotic lab equipment crashing into the world to see what they would do with it.

4 years ago, I watched them harvest grist on their own and use alchemy. I am so proud.

3 years ago, I fell into peaceful slumber for the first time. I slept for a while.

2 years ago, I woke back up. I woke to find black, white and grey struggling with overpopulation.

1 year ago, I grew bored with peace. I introduced the concept of biological warfare to them and allowed the overpopulation problem solve itself.

9 months ago, I slept again.

4 months ago, I drempt of places I had no memory of, met people I knew nothing about. They told me this was the land of the damned and the dreaming.

3 months ago, I explored this place. I found so many like myself, all who failed their own Games, but none as fortunate as I to find new ways to play. None fortunate enough to become a God of their own realm anyway.

2 months ago, I discovered I could use my power to take the strengths of these phantoms, bring it out of my dreams and use it... But it was for a tragically short time. I would need more. Much more.

1 month ago, I discovered I can gift others with powers I've taken, small fractions of it. My mind spins with the possibilities.

One day ago, I began experimenting. Limited access to Light and Breath has allowed for so much, though only for a short time. I gift soldiers from all three sides with what stolen power I can to see what mutations are born from it.

Today, I grow bored with peace.

[vonbaghager]

It's the little things

Like expanding on little referenced abilities or powers that SBURB/SGRUB people have.

For the sake of not killing myself I'll only do the ones that pertain to my characters. At least the ones I've thought about.

Anathema: God-tier power of any Prince class, and one of the few "shared" abilities that has a different effect depending on the aspect. In this case, it is the Life aspect. Anathema (Life) prevents enemies whose max HP is less than the Prince's HP from willingly attacking them, unless they are attacked first. If the enemy's HP is less than 1/4th of the Prince's HP, they will flee in terror.

Note: This ability shares a name with the ability given to beings with chucklevoodoo, or beings that are not native to the session. That version of Anathema has a very different effect. Make sure you know the difference!

Genome Heritage: God-tier power of the Heir of Life. If a player in their session permanently dies, the Heir gains a random amount of that player's class and aspect abilities (usually two of each). In addition, the heir gains slightly more EXP from each kill and gain one ability from each slain Denizen, as long as they were present to see the kill.

Massive Trauma: God-tier power of the Knight of Life. Damage dealt by the Knight cannot be healed in their presence unless they allow it. In addition, all attacks do slightly more damage, and have a higher chance of scoring critical hits.

Consume Genome: God-tier power of the Thief of Life. When slaying an enemy, the Thief may elect to, instead of grist being dropped, gain one stat or skill point, or steal one ability from the enemy. Using Consume Genome also halves the EXP gain from slaying the enemy.

Fleshsmith: God-tier power of the Mage of Life. Allows the user control over their own form, within reason, letting them shapeshift as much as their mass will allow, repair their wounds or create living weapons. Fleshsmith also allows the user to use grist to create organic matter in alchemy, which can be used for a variety of purposes.

Divine Radiance: Passive ability of Yaldabaoth. Causes divine-fire damage in a wide radius; the closer a being is, the more damage they take. Fire resistance can shield them from fire damage, but only God-tiers are immune to divine damage.

Divine Form: Passive ability of Denizens and God-tier players. Greatly reduces the chance of critical hits affecting them, and allows them quicker recovery from poisons, diseases, stat debuffs (such as paralysis) and stat drains.

Malefic Aura: Passive ability of Nyx, Typheus and Yaldabaoth. God-tier players within range have their stats lowered to their level just below God-tier. In addition, they can no longer fly using God-tier powers.

Enervation: Attack ability of Denizens. Any being struck with this attack has its stats temporarily lowered by one full level.

[vonbaghager]

'Nother small profile

I really need to stop making people and focus on developing the characters I already have.

Maybe eventually I will. This guy is actually based on a character I already had, so making him was much easier.

DOCTOR SEBASTIAN FETCH

illIntentions

This is the result of trying to manipulate forces beyond your comprehension. You've always been a man who enjoys doing things on his own, that much you can remember of your life before Sburb. Who were you before? What were you before? Were you a doctor before Sburb? Did you even care about the body at all? You know you neglected yours. Perhaps that is why you're being punished.

It's been so, so long. You remember games. You loved games. You certainly loved games more than you loved your body. More than you loved others. In fact, you were disgusted by other people. You only ever talked with Pesterchum, and even then sparingly, to a select few people who even knew you existed. But you never offered to join them. You always found ways to play your favorite games, even the multiplayer ones, by yourself. You had money. You can't remember where it came from. But you used it to do spectacular things.

Things like break into Sburb, which was supposedly an amazing game, without needing the "friends" you made over the internet. All it took was two computers and quite a bit of coding, no small task, but you were smart about those things. They warned you not to. One even claimed he had gone back in time to tell you not to. You wish you had listened.

But you entered. You entered and you felt death. You felt death in all its forms, everywhere around you. It tortured you, body, mind and soul because it was just emptiness and death everywhere and you could feel it. You are the Lord of Life. Trapped in the Land of Spires and Tomes. The lone human, with hordes of enemies.

They proved no problem to you. You were life itself. Each time they slew you, you got back up. You felt invincible. Only when you bothered to settle down, wondering why it was taking so long to progress, consulting the tomes that littered your land, did you find out why. You spent so long reading. You had time, after all. More time than a Time player, which you found out you needed to fix mistakes that happen along the line, mistakes you made plenty of. You also found out you needed a Space player to progress in the game, which you also didn't have. Shame, about that.

But it is just you. The immortal Lord of Life, the king of these scuttling roach consorts that are every bit as resilient but not in the least bit as intelligent as you. Trapped in your land. You cannot go forward. You cannot go back. The Reckoning passed ages ago. You watched Skaia burn for months until it became a desolate and ruined husk. The game is over. You lost. And yet here you are, still in the Land of Spires and Tomes, fighting enemies as they respawn for grist that is meaningless.

Or you thought was meaningless. You spent ages pouring over the tomes, looking for some way to undo what you've done. You found none. But you found other interesting facts. You created all the equipment you could ever need. You used the infinite supply of grist you had obtained to create a small paradise for yourself in your dead Land. Except it wasn't paradise. It was dead. Dead dead dead. The very universe mocked you with its emptiness, and so you trained. Top of the echeladder, boy. Your powers were incredible. There was nothing you couldn't do.

So you gave it life. You poured your power into the world and gave it life. It was a world born dead, and you put everything you had into changing that. Everything. It would have been your last noble deed, to create something out of the ruin you caused with your selfishness and stupidity, had it not been for your consorts, dutifully carrying you to your bed.

You were powerful before, but you are a God now. Lonely. Your powers are nightmarishly strong, and you use them in nightmarish ways. The flourishing world is yours to shape now. You gave it life, it OWED you. The life that sprung from it was misshapen, imperfect, WRONG, so you shaped it. You sculpted it with the knowledge you gained from the tomes. How the bodies worked. How they DID work, and how they SHOULD work, and how you could make it work BETTER. You sculpted yourself. Oh how you sculpted yourself.

You have no idea what you are now. But it is not human.

You spent so many years experimenting, finding news ways to heal and harm the beings you made. New ways to alter yourself further. For the first time in... Ten? Fifty? A hundred years? You felt good.You finally felt in control of something that was uncontrollable. That is when one day, when you fell asleep, it came as a great surprise when the control was thrown for a loop, and you awoke in a place that you would learn were "dream bubbles." Someplace new. Someplace filled with people.

...Imperfect. Misshapen. Wrong people. You have work to do. You are a doctor, after all.

((written stream-of-conciousness-like pardon the horribleness))