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Main blog is @bookworm-driven-insane !
"Rampage" is a slightly unusual khajiit. He goes by she/he/they pronouns and looks to be quite young at a glance. They also can only read the daedric alphabet whoops
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(placeholder pinned post)
Main blog is @bookworm-driven-insane !
"Rampage" is a slightly unusual khajiit. He goes by she/he/they pronouns and looks to be quite young at a glance. They also can only read the daedric alphabet whoops
Do you think your parents would still understand you right now?
"Думаю что да! Во всех сказках которые я знаю, родители всегда узнают своих детей, даже превращенными в какое-нибудь неузнаваемое существо. Если даже так они могут понять друг-друга, значит, мои родители тоже должны меня понять! Хотя, с другой стороны, мы не всегда друг-друга понимаем даже когда я могу говорить нормально. . . "
(Think so! In all the tales I know, parents always recognize their kids, even transformed into unrecognizable monsters. If even like that they can communicate with each other, I'm sure my parents will understand me too!)
What happens if you try speaking Daedric?
"Отличная идея!! Эта думает, что стоит попробовать." (Great idea! This one thinks she should try.)
She attempts to speak in daedric, but that gets translated as well. Likely because daedric text doesn't get localized in any of the tes games. "Даэдрический, спаси меня!" (Daedric, save me!)
Rampage seems slightly disappointed, letting out a sigh. "Ну, хотя-бы этот вариант можно вычеркнуть. Есть какие-нибудь другие идеи насчет того мне от этого избавиться? В какой-то степени мне даже нравится звучание этого языка. Несмотря на это, мне как-то неприятно на нём говорить. . . Чувствую себя странно, будто мой стиль речи плохо передаётся на этот другой язык."
(Well, at least we can cross that off the list. Any other ideas on how to get rid of this curse? I like this language, to some degree, but it's still kind of strange to speak in it . . . It's like if my style of speaking is hard to get across in another language!)
*language switch curse upon thee*
"Что за?! Эй! Я даже не знаю что это за язык- Вот если бы это был даэдрический. . . !! А то я даже сама не понимаю, что говорю."
What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?
"Well, um, this one has done a lot of bad things, especially from a mortal standpoint! He has taken killed innocents, tortured people and daedra alike, took advantage and manipulated mortals in bad situations, destroyed mortal lives with lying- all for nothing but for her own gain! She has also betrayed her allies and turned on them, many many times, and will do that again. And he had leveled a major city into the ground in the past.
But, arguably, the worst thing – and don't tell this to her papa! – is that when she gets mad, she swears, real bad!!"
🍨🍨🍨🍨
"Oh! This one heard of this, a sweet treat, kept cold by frost salts!! She heard mortals always complaining about this treat not being in the deadlands. She will try!!"
Rampage takes a huge bite of the ice cream, clearly unaware that you're supposed to lick it and of potential consequences of not doing so. Her face changes as she realises the size of her mistake.
"Oughhhh. . . Brain freeze. . . . ."
There were a wide variety of problems, like a maze of fallen statues and copycats and molds. Every brick could be found twice, and every face was seen more than once. If you are unlucky enough, you might’ve even seen your own face in a bandit or a necromancer. Nothing was original, nothing was new. Here creation echoed in a chamber, a maze of mirrors that warped and bent reality to face you with new horrors and new itching contempt. you were lucky to breathe, even if it felt wrong, stolen.
If you were very quiet and very still, maybe you could hear the Walls breathe... Or the mutterings of a Madman trying to keep them alive desperately, along with everything trapped inside it.
Maybe he was scared- like a child grieving a not quite dead dog with a broken leg, even though they knew it was better to put down a suffering beast. But the walls breathed on, every shifting hallway, a new gauntlet to go through. How did time move here? Were your days, hours or weeks? Did it matter? Did the suffering endured change depending on the length of time in which it was experienced?
Theodor himself would only watch. maybe more would come. Perhaps more would change fate. Maybe just one more soul... One more mind... and if not that one then the next. For what else was there to do? Simply accept the inevitable? Oh no, no no no. Mourning Mortality was a mortifyingly mortal sin. There was no end goal but the same straight path as always, stretching far forward unto the horizon because what else was there...? Who would mourn a forgotten god? Certainly not Theodor. Not if there was no one left to mourn.
The definition of insanity: to do something over and over again with the feeble hope it will achieve different results.
@emperor-uriel-septim-vii @ingarthemage @severine-livincus @zealformayhem @kogandremaaz @kiraspaladinofmadness @angry-reachman-dragonpriest @king-of-stalkers
"Taste's bad. Like blood and guts and shit."
The Hunter turned it over to reveal the inside to Kiras, which gooped out what was presumably the Hunter's own blood and bits of flesh... That said, they didn't STOP eating it, continuing to nibble away at the bloody bread with their mask pulled down.
"The fuck I miss?"
He grabbed a different sweet roll and devoured it. "Oh gods, it's like it was made for me. Right. I had a philosophy debate with an aspect of the mad god until the abyss absorbed him for not listening. I thought it was weird when that mouth you sculpted started talking..." He got another one and ate that slower.
Damhan found himself drooling at the sight of blood and flesh. Oh the joys of being a cannibal. Damhan was morbidly curious. Oh well. He picked up a sweetroll and started eating. Finally some good food.
The Hunter looked at them both just sitting there devouring the weird sweetrolls. They blinked- maybe a little disgusted not with the eating of them itself but with the gusto they did it. Maybe they were just more trained on it, who knew.
"Oh. By the Blood. Huh. Interesting. Hmph. Glad we all like eating bits of my literal body... Not morbid at all."
"There's a version of him married to our daughter. Glad to see he's the exact same here." Severine was drinking. Damn this shit was strong. And delicious.
"Hm."
They just grunted, going back to the quiet for a moment. They needed it.
"Ah well. Not the first time I've died and won't be the last."
"It's better than what I almost did. Wish I'd known these were like this before struggling with willpower to not try to drink a Prince's blood."
"Hmph. Wait- what???"
The Hunter grunted and side eyed Kiras hard under their hat.
"The kitten tore his neck open. I'm guessing he let it happen to tempt me, but that would be expecting too much forethought and planning. I know it's gross, but I'm a vampire. I became one because of him. Another version or aspect. More like for him. Yes, I know that's insane. I'm used to getting called that by now. But I don't kill for no reason. I try to go after criminals and... Stalk isn't a nice word, but that's the best word for it. in order to know if they're suitable."
"Excuse me, said kitten has a name!! She is The Rampage!! Rude to not call her by name when she is listening!!" She huffed, offended, for a moment pausing in her tracks but then continuing to eat the sweetroll as she listened to Kiras. ". . . This one hopes this fragment of Sheogorath was weak enough that the abyss ate him for good. Heh."
Ingar is very pointedly looking away from everyone eating. He doesn't think he'll ever be able to eat a sweet roll again. "Um, I doubt this Sheogorath is gone for good. Even though He's only a fragment, He's still a powerful Daedric Prince. He didn't seem all that put off by your attack, Rampage, despite the... strength of it. He'll probably be back."
"He better not be! She will tear his face apart again and again until he leaves her friends alone for good!!" She hissed, licking her lips. "Daedric Prince or not, she will find a way to spill his blood and guts. Or hurt him in another way, if that won't work. But he will pay!"
"Um... yeah. That's good. I think. Glad you're on our side."
"Why wouldn't this one be on her friends' side??" They squeaked, confused. Then, after pondering their own question for a moment, he face palmed. "Actually don't answer that. Dumb question. She can think of several reasons why she wouldn't if not for circumstances."
There were a wide variety of problems, like a maze of fallen statues and copycats and molds. Every brick could be found twice, and every face was seen more than once. If you are unlucky enough, you might’ve even seen your own face in a bandit or a necromancer. Nothing was original, nothing was new. Here creation echoed in a chamber, a maze of mirrors that warped and bent reality to face you with new horrors and new itching contempt. you were lucky to breathe, even if it felt wrong, stolen.
If you were very quiet and very still, maybe you could hear the Walls breathe... Or the mutterings of a Madman trying to keep them alive desperately, along with everything trapped inside it.
Maybe he was scared- like a child grieving a not quite dead dog with a broken leg, even though they knew it was better to put down a suffering beast. But the walls breathed on, every shifting hallway, a new gauntlet to go through. How did time move here? Were your days, hours or weeks? Did it matter? Did the suffering endured change depending on the length of time in which it was experienced?
Theodor himself would only watch. maybe more would come. Perhaps more would change fate. Maybe just one more soul... One more mind... and if not that one then the next. For what else was there to do? Simply accept the inevitable? Oh no, no no no. Mourning Mortality was a mortifyingly mortal sin. There was no end goal but the same straight path as always, stretching far forward unto the horizon because what else was there...? Who would mourn a forgotten god? Certainly not Theodor. Not if there was no one left to mourn.
The definition of insanity: to do something over and over again with the feeble hope it will achieve different results.
@emperor-uriel-septim-vii @ingarthemage @severine-livincus @zealformayhem @kogandremaaz @kiraspaladinofmadness @angry-reachman-dragonpriest @king-of-stalkers
"Taste's bad. Like blood and guts and shit."
The Hunter turned it over to reveal the inside to Kiras, which gooped out what was presumably the Hunter's own blood and bits of flesh... That said, they didn't STOP eating it, continuing to nibble away at the bloody bread with their mask pulled down.
"The fuck I miss?"
He grabbed a different sweet roll and devoured it. "Oh gods, it's like it was made for me. Right. I had a philosophy debate with an aspect of the mad god until the abyss absorbed him for not listening. I thought it was weird when that mouth you sculpted started talking..." He got another one and ate that slower.
Damhan found himself drooling at the sight of blood and flesh. Oh the joys of being a cannibal. Damhan was morbidly curious. Oh well. He picked up a sweetroll and started eating. Finally some good food.
The Hunter looked at them both just sitting there devouring the weird sweetrolls. They blinked- maybe a little disgusted not with the eating of them itself but with the gusto they did it. Maybe they were just more trained on it, who knew.
"Oh. By the Blood. Huh. Interesting. Hmph. Glad we all like eating bits of my literal body... Not morbid at all."
"There's a version of him married to our daughter. Glad to see he's the exact same here." Severine was drinking. Damn this shit was strong. And delicious.
"Hm."
They just grunted, going back to the quiet for a moment. They needed it.
"Ah well. Not the first time I've died and won't be the last."
"It's better than what I almost did. Wish I'd known these were like this before struggling with willpower to not try to drink a Prince's blood."
"Hmph. Wait- what???"
The Hunter grunted and side eyed Kiras hard under their hat.
"The kitten tore his neck open. I'm guessing he let it happen to tempt me, but that would be expecting too much forethought and planning. I know it's gross, but I'm a vampire. I became one because of him. Another version or aspect. More like for him. Yes, I know that's insane. I'm used to getting called that by now. But I don't kill for no reason. I try to go after criminals and... Stalk isn't a nice word, but that's the best word for it. in order to know if they're suitable."
"Excuse me, said kitten has a name!! She is The Rampage!! Rude to not call her by name when she is listening!!" She huffed, offended, for a moment pausing in her tracks but then continuing to eat the sweetroll as she listened to Kiras. ". . . This one hopes this fragment of Sheogorath was weak enough that the abyss ate him for good. Heh."
Ingar is very pointedly looking away from everyone eating. He doesn't think he'll ever be able to eat a sweet roll again. "Um, I doubt this Sheogorath is gone for good. Even though He's only a fragment, He's still a powerful Daedric Prince. He didn't seem all that put off by your attack, Rampage, despite the... strength of it. He'll probably be back."
"He better not be! She will tear his face apart again and again until he leaves her friends alone for good!!" She hissed, licking her lips. "Daedric Prince or not, she will find a way to spill his blood and guts. Or hurt him in another way, if that won't work. But he will pay!"
There were a wide variety of problems, like a maze of fallen statues and copycats and molds. Every brick could be found twice, and every face was seen more than once. If you are unlucky enough, you might’ve even seen your own face in a bandit or a necromancer. Nothing was original, nothing was new. Here creation echoed in a chamber, a maze of mirrors that warped and bent reality to face you with new horrors and new itching contempt. you were lucky to breathe, even if it felt wrong, stolen.
If you were very quiet and very still, maybe you could hear the Walls breathe... Or the mutterings of a Madman trying to keep them alive desperately, along with everything trapped inside it.
Maybe he was scared- like a child grieving a not quite dead dog with a broken leg, even though they knew it was better to put down a suffering beast. But the walls breathed on, every shifting hallway, a new gauntlet to go through. How did time move here? Were your days, hours or weeks? Did it matter? Did the suffering endured change depending on the length of time in which it was experienced?
Theodor himself would only watch. maybe more would come. Perhaps more would change fate. Maybe just one more soul... One more mind... and if not that one then the next. For what else was there to do? Simply accept the inevitable? Oh no, no no no. Mourning Mortality was a mortifyingly mortal sin. There was no end goal but the same straight path as always, stretching far forward unto the horizon because what else was there...? Who would mourn a forgotten god? Certainly not Theodor. Not if there was no one left to mourn.
The definition of insanity: to do something over and over again with the feeble hope it will achieve different results.
@emperor-uriel-septim-vii @ingarthemage @severine-livincus @zealformayhem @kogandremaaz @kiraspaladinofmadness @angry-reachman-dragonpriest @king-of-stalkers
"Taste's bad. Like blood and guts and shit."
The Hunter turned it over to reveal the inside to Kiras, which gooped out what was presumably the Hunter's own blood and bits of flesh... That said, they didn't STOP eating it, continuing to nibble away at the bloody bread with their mask pulled down.
"The fuck I miss?"
He grabbed a different sweet roll and devoured it. "Oh gods, it's like it was made for me. Right. I had a philosophy debate with an aspect of the mad god until the abyss absorbed him for not listening. I thought it was weird when that mouth you sculpted started talking..." He got another one and ate that slower.
Damhan found himself drooling at the sight of blood and flesh. Oh the joys of being a cannibal. Damhan was morbidly curious. Oh well. He picked up a sweetroll and started eating. Finally some good food.
The Hunter looked at them both just sitting there devouring the weird sweetrolls. They blinked- maybe a little disgusted not with the eating of them itself but with the gusto they did it. Maybe they were just more trained on it, who knew.
"Oh. By the Blood. Huh. Interesting. Hmph. Glad we all like eating bits of my literal body... Not morbid at all."
"There's a version of him married to our daughter. Glad to see he's the exact same here." Severine was drinking. Damn this shit was strong. And delicious.
"Hm."
They just grunted, going back to the quiet for a moment. They needed it.
"Ah well. Not the first time I've died and won't be the last."
"It's better than what I almost did. Wish I'd known these were like this before struggling with willpower to not try to drink a Prince's blood."
"Hmph. Wait- what???"
The Hunter grunted and side eyed Kiras hard under their hat.
"The kitten tore his neck open. I'm guessing he let it happen to tempt me, but that would be expecting too much forethought and planning. I know it's gross, but I'm a vampire. I became one because of him. Another version or aspect. More like for him. Yes, I know that's insane. I'm used to getting called that by now. But I don't kill for no reason. I try to go after criminals and... Stalk isn't a nice word, but that's the best word for it. in order to know if they're suitable."
"Excuse me, said kitten has a name!! She is The Rampage!! Rude to not call her by name when she is listening!!" She huffed, offended, for a moment pausing in her tracks but then continuing to eat the sweetroll as she listened to Kiras. ". . . This one hopes this fragment of Sheogorath was weak enough that the abyss ate him for good. Heh."
There were a wide variety of problems, like a maze of fallen statues and copycats and molds. Every brick could be found twice, and every face was seen more than once. If you are unlucky enough, you might’ve even seen your own face in a bandit or a necromancer. Nothing was original, nothing was new. Here creation echoed in a chamber, a maze of mirrors that warped and bent reality to face you with new horrors and new itching contempt. you were lucky to breathe, even if it felt wrong, stolen.
If you were very quiet and very still, maybe you could hear the Walls breathe... Or the mutterings of a Madman trying to keep them alive desperately, along with everything trapped inside it.
Maybe he was scared- like a child grieving a not quite dead dog with a broken leg, even though they knew it was better to put down a suffering beast. But the walls breathed on, every shifting hallway, a new gauntlet to go through. How did time move here? Were your days, hours or weeks? Did it matter? Did the suffering endured change depending on the length of time in which it was experienced?
Theodor himself would only watch. maybe more would come. Perhaps more would change fate. Maybe just one more soul... One more mind... and if not that one then the next. For what else was there to do? Simply accept the inevitable? Oh no, no no no. Mourning Mortality was a mortifyingly mortal sin. There was no end goal but the same straight path as always, stretching far forward unto the horizon because what else was there...? Who would mourn a forgotten god? Certainly not Theodor. Not if there was no one left to mourn.
The definition of insanity: to do something over and over again with the feeble hope it will achieve different results.
@emperor-uriel-septim-vii @ingarthemage @severine-livincus @zealformayhem @kogandremaaz @kiraspaladinofmadness @angry-reachman-dragonpriest @king-of-stalkers
"Taste's bad. Like blood and guts and shit."
The Hunter turned it over to reveal the inside to Kiras, which gooped out what was presumably the Hunter's own blood and bits of flesh... That said, they didn't STOP eating it, continuing to nibble away at the bloody bread with their mask pulled down.
"The fuck I miss?"
He grabbed a different sweet roll and devoured it. "Oh gods, it's like it was made for me. Right. I had a philosophy debate with an aspect of the mad god until the abyss absorbed him for not listening. I thought it was weird when that mouth you sculpted started talking..." He got another one and ate that slower.
Damhan found himself drooling at the sight of blood and flesh. Oh the joys of being a cannibal. Damhan was morbidly curious. Oh well. He picked up a sweetroll and started eating. Finally some good food.
The Hunter looked at them both just sitting there devouring the weird sweetrolls. They blinked- maybe a little disgusted not with the eating of them itself but with the gusto they did it. Maybe they were just more trained on it, who knew.
"Oh. By the Blood. Huh. Interesting. Hmph. Glad we all like eating bits of my literal body... Not morbid at all."
"There's a version of him married to our daughter. Glad to see he's the exact same here." Severine was drinking. Damn this shit was strong. And delicious.
"Hm."
They just grunted, going back to the quiet for a moment. They needed it.
"Ah well. Not the first time I've died and won't be the last."
Rampage joined everyone in devouring the weird sweetrolls. Did he need to eat as a daedric child? Probably not. Was he eating the sweetrolls as voraciously as if he did need to eat? Well of course!
"Mmmm, tasty gut rolls!!" He remarked, greedily reaching out for another one, blood from the first sweet roll all over his face, staining his fur a dark crimson. He didn't seem to know how to eat carefully. "She understands wood elves now. Just as good as soul gems!! Friend has really tasty body!!"
She stuffed a couple of 'gut rolls' into her bag, either to eat them later or hoping to sell them to some unfortunate soul. Whatever it was, it seemed to drastically improve the khajiit's mood after what happened before this.
There were a wide variety of problems, like a maze of fallen statues and copycats and molds. Every brick could be found twice, and every face was seen more than once. If you are unlucky enough, you might’ve even seen your own face in a bandit or a necromancer. Nothing was original, nothing was new. Here creation echoed in a chamber, a maze of mirrors that warped and bent reality to face you with new horrors and new itching contempt. you were lucky to breathe, even if it felt wrong, stolen.
If you were very quiet and very still, maybe you could hear the Walls breathe... Or the mutterings of a Madman trying to keep them alive desperately, along with everything trapped inside it.
Maybe he was scared- like a child grieving a not quite dead dog with a broken leg, even though they knew it was better to put down a suffering beast. But the walls breathed on, every shifting hallway, a new gauntlet to go through. How did time move here? Were your days, hours or weeks? Did it matter? Did the suffering endured change depending on the length of time in which it was experienced?
Theodor himself would only watch. maybe more would come. Perhaps more would change fate. Maybe just one more soul... One more mind... and if not that one then the next. For what else was there to do? Simply accept the inevitable? Oh no, no no no. Mourning Mortality was a mortifyingly mortal sin. There was no end goal but the same straight path as always, stretching far forward unto the horizon because what else was there...? Who would mourn a forgotten god? Certainly not Theodor. Not if there was no one left to mourn.
The definition of insanity: to do something over and over again with the feeble hope it will achieve different results.
@emperor-uriel-septim-vii @ingarthemage @severine-livincus @zealformayhem @kogandremaaz @kiraspaladinofmadness @angry-reachman-dragonpriest @king-of-stalkers
(He starts to feel panicked at the idea of having to choose between lives, his claws grazing the back of his hand repetitively.)
Zu'u ni paar oblaan fah naan. Vomindok miir.
The face hummed softly, bobbing up and down in the wall as if to nod without a neck.
”Grik alok ahst fin sil: Faaz. Daar los fin komeyt ney hi ahrk rok luft.”
(He opens his mouth to speak, but is mute with panic. He grasps his arms and shuts his eyes tightly, trying to find some semblance of composure.)
Krosis. Zu'u... vomindok miir. Saan hevno haalvut zu'u.
The Hunter walks up and puts a hand on Kogandremaaz’s shoulder, squeezing them before turning them around and grabbing him by the shoulders, squeezing him enough to force him to notice.
“Ay, mate. Look at me. I ain’t got no shit of what you are saying but I know that face. We aren’t losin’ ya. We WILL figure it out. The Abyss might be collapsing but we ain’t gonna go with it mate.”
(His shoulders tense, his claws digging into his arms as he refuses to meet eyes with anyone.)
I am sick and tired of death being the only way out of sorrow. I thought that death would rid me of that dread, but now I have to face it again, and I am just as clueless and ignorant as I was the last time and I... (his voice breaks, briefly.) I am too tired to think of another way out.
”We’ll figure it out. We have too. There’s nothing else for us to do. If we can save the Abyss, so be it. But if we can’t… We need to focus on getting the fuck outta here, yeah?”
(He sighs deeply, eyes emptier by the minute.)
Geh. Tiid bo amativ.
"So, that thing just ate this one's soul gem and didn't give new information?" She blinked in disappointment. "If she knew about this before, she would have eaten it herself. Now she doesn't even get to have a snack! Let us go. We need to get out of here so we have nice things again."
The Hunter nodded, before looking directly at the face. They suddenly ripped their mask down, revealing a tired but pale androgynous face.
“You know- all you all knowing god types have one thing in common. You sure are a bitch. You’re dying already. Why not let SOMEONE ELSE live?! Why keep us here to feed on us? What point does that serve you other than to lengthen your suffering? I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW LONG I’VE BEEN DOWN HERE! I don’t even know if I have anyone to go back to!”
They paused, freezing on the spot and staring at the empty sockets of the face staring back.
“We just want to live. Why don’t you want that too?”
They punched the wall- not the face itself, but the wall angrily, hard enough their knuckles cracked.
“ALL YOU GODS ARE FUCKIN’ BASTARDS IS WHAT YOU ARE.”
Damhan looked over at the Hunter, raising his brows slightly and flipping his hair. "That's what I'm saying. Except to Hircine, he seems as stuck here as we are."
”And if he wasn’t?”
The Hunter turned around and hissed.
“What do you think he’ll do when he gets OUT? Goddamnit I’m tired of ALL of ‘em, mate! Because they don’t FUCKIN’ care about ANYONE but themselves. Not really.”
They gestured behind themself.
“This one proves it. Fuckin’ hell. Won’t even let us the FUCK out because they’re dying.”
"Hey!! That's not true, not all or them!" Rampage shook her head. "Some are nice. . ."
”Nice doesn’t equate to selflessness, dammit!”
The Hunter turned their snippishness towards Ramage.
“It all doesn’t matt- ACK-“
Something, or someone- yanked the Hunter away from the rest of the party into a nearby wall, where they exploded into a pile of sweetrolls.
@emperor-uriel-septim-vii @ingarthemage @severine-livincus @zealformayhem @kogandremaaz @kiraspaladinofmadness @angry-reachman-dragonpriest @king-of-stalkers
"And that's why you don't test them." Damhan shook his head, opening a flask and pouring alcohol on the ground.
“Goodness, small squeaking rats everywhere. If only they’d keep their mouths shut for more than a moment, maybe they’d do better finding prey.”
Theodor emerged from down the shadows of the hallway with a positively livid sort of grin, really only smiling for the bit, for the appearances, but not doing too well at hiding his own growing hatred.
She gasped, then blankly stared at the sweet rolls, an expression of dread on her face. The fact that not even mortals can die in this place had already slipped her mind, so she was- rightfully- mortified.
Her gaze then had shifted onto Theodor, an expression of pure hatred and disgust spreading across their face.
"Hey, look who decided to finally show his face again!" Rampage hissed, taking a few steps back to hide behind Damhan.
Theodor clinked the Wabbajack into the ground like a cane, hands folded over its hilt like the perfect expression of calmness. It would have been picturesque if it wasn’t so rigid.
“Oh? I simply got bored WAITING for you to crack like twigs underfoot.”
He shot a sour glance at the face in the wall.
“Figured it was time the foot came crashing down. Figured I’d take a LOVELY little walk, heheh… Hm… You’ve been busy. Making friends I see?”
"Except we are not twigs." Rampage snarled, showing her teeth. Her fur defensively puffed up, making her look slightly larger and fluffier than usual. It is debatable whether that actually helped her intimidate anyone, but the sharp pin she took out of her hat and pointed at Theodor with did help her case a bit. "So stop with the nonsense, speak normally, not in riddles. Khajiit is sick of the bullshit this one has been going on and on about. And not her only! No one – not Rampage, not her friends, and not even the abyss itself takes him seriously or wants him here."
Theodor paused, raising an eyebrow, seemingly challenged and taking it to heart.
“Oh? The kitten has claws.”
He walked right up to her and loomed over her.
“If a serious Madgod is what you want, child, a serious Madgod is EXACTLY what you’ll get.”
The face finally spoke up, shifting closer to the cloaked Breton.
“Sheogorath, do not harm them. They must stay alive to get your prey.”
Theodor didn’t once look away from Rampage before shoving the cane into the Abyss’ mouth and ripping it down, yanking the Soul Gem out and onto the ground. The sculpture turned to mush before it even got another word in.
“Let me tell you a secret, little one. I am not doing this on behalf of the Abyss. The Abyss never wanted you here. If it wanted you to lose your minds it would have tried harder. The ONLY reason you’re alive is to keep ME from taking someone else. It’s a stalling game, and I. Am. Bored.”
He plucked the little Khajiit up and held them in the air, practically snarling in his face like a hateful dog.
“Tell me: How do you like your insides? Scrambled? Sunny side up?”
Rampage watched, listening to what he had to say in shock. The abyss. . . Never wanted them here? Then why, why was he even doing this?! She felt her mind racing.
Then, she stopped.
It didn't matter.
They felt so enraged that their head began spinning. It felt like they would be the next one to explode into sweetrolls if they didn't do something about their anger right at that exact moment.
"This one likes her insides intact, but yours – she will gladly eat scrambled!"
He didn't even try to get out of Theodor's grip: if anything, that was a very convenient way for them to reach his face! With a sharp swing to gain momentum, he started wildly stabbing at the madgod's face, treating it like a pincushion. In her frenzied rampage (heh), Rampage wasn't really picky about which parts of his face she would ruin, but she was trying to target his eyes in particular. She then decided that the hat pin wouldn't be nearly enough, no. . . Her rage leading her rather than the other way around, she bit into his neck, trying to make the promise of scrambling his insides come true.
Theodor didn’t even flinch, letting the kitty maul him without so much as back away. As she bit into his neck he rubbed a hand over his face, repairing the broken and torn flesh while he bit at his neck angrily. He just pulled her off- with a chunk of his neck no less. Blood dripped into his wizard’s cloak, red like a mortal’s, despite being the ichor of an incomprehensible being of infinite insanity.
“Bad kitty.”
Theodor snickered, turning her teeth and claws into rubber- but not her tongue. He wanted them to be able to speak. It was funny to hear them scream at him.
Kiras's mouth gaped open at the sight of the red blood, his hunger swelling in his throat. He clenched fists at his sides. He stayed rooted to the spot, despite wanting to back away. Despite needing to feed. The vampire fox shook his head slightly, warring with himself. Only the criminals, the low-lifes, the scum of Tamriel were his prey...
Theodor flicked his eyes over at the fox, grinning like a clown that just spotted some new way to worm their way into his brain.
"Something the matter? Too human to resist?"
"My intuition is saying I shouldn't risk it, but..." He tilted his head. He had interrupted his meal. Had it been on purpose? Right at that moment- so he'd be near senseless. More than usual anyway.
He removed his helmet. "I have submitted to you after a lifetime, in another time, so I've seen." He looked confused, brows drawn together. "Why choose me? Have I wronged you more than can be atoned?" He left unsaid 'worse than last time when I could atone.'
"Better question: Why not? You were easy pickings. Do you think I picked you all with intention behind it? No. I'm a rat scrambling for scraps. I needed something to feed the Abyss. To keep it alive. Anyone would do if they had a soul, and if yours was already mine then who cares who I fed it too?"
Theodor dropped Rampage- not lightly either.
"You didn't wrong me. You righted me! Right place right time!"
Seemed more like wrong place wrong time to him. "I thought I could..." He reached for him, then stopped. "I thought it didn't matter I was mortal. That I could be friends with anyone. With you." He shut his eyes tightly, trying to stop thinking about it.
Good gods he was thirsty. And a little stupid.
Theodor snorted, more entertained then anything. This mortal thought he could have been friends, with anyone. How terribly naive. Adorable even.
"...You thought you could be friends with a Daedra? Ha! You're madder then me, and that's a compliment!"
He sighed, relieved. The tension going from his shoulders. Even a snide compliment was better than nothing. Better than getting teleported 1000 feet above so he could fall to his death.
"I thought since there's been instances of princes taking a lover, it would also be possible to befriend one," he added his line of reasoning, then cringed. Might be too much logic.
"I am madness, both the good, the bad, the ugly, and the fugly!"
Theodor pointed out, leaning on his cane.
"You are looking to tame a wild boar, but you forget it has tusks and eats meat. Relationships are, generally, built on mutual trust and understanding! Like a symbiotic duo in the wild! Ha! You can't say you befriended me and then not acknowledge that I'm insane enough to whip you around like a ragdoll. That's not how this works. I don't change my behavior because you asked nicely. Ask the Abyss, since you so like talking so. They'll tell you. I'm doing this for them but not because of them."
"I would ask if you hadn't ruined *our mutual friend's* sculpture. Besides. I had a whole arc accepting my madness and admitting that I love madness itself. And that took a long time, so many decades upon decades of undeath. Not some holding hands around the camp fire and making bracelets stuff! I've been through more than I let on and pretend to be positive. So excuse me if I miss the aspect of Sheogorath that at least pretends to care."
He stiffly put his hands on his hips.
Theodor looked mildly offended.
"Excuse you! I do care! About different things! It's not my fault I'm a very fragmented god!"
Theodor scoffed. How dare this mortal expect to understand him! So rude, so naive! Certainly there was a bigger picture here, couldn't anyone else understand that?
"It's not EVERY day a fellow god I care about is dying you know! Sacrifices have to be made! Sometimes you have to pick the best lambs for the slaughter even if you were attached because the family you love needs the food!"
The walls around them rumbled slightly, causing Theodor to pause.
"And I also know that sometimes it's best to let things die. Did you ever consider to ask what it- they want?" He'd been too caught up in himself for a minute but now he blinked, processed. "Wait, they said keep them alive."
Theodor blinked stupidly, stunned by sheer confusion, a very rare occurrence for the god of Madness.
"Well- yes?"
"I may be a bit slow, but once it's in there. It sticks." He smiled a little, recognizing that look. "So how many deaths will it take? Hundreds, thousands? That will probably hurt." And the award for most dense go to... this guy. But he figured if it was what was wanted from him, then he might as well be useful. He was also good at ACTING like he was acting the fool when he didn't fully understand something. But still very much the fool.
Theodor relaxed and leaned back on his cane, humming.
"Honestly? I don't know. That's a very difficult thing to calculate, and I'm not EXACTLY known for my sense of order and calculatory nature. Anymore anyway!"
The walls quaked and Theodor bonked one with his cane.
"Oh will you be quiet you old buffoon! I am TRYING to save you here!"
Maybe if he kept him talking then no one would have to die. "So, I've heard. By the way, have you heard of the trolley problem?"
At this rate, Damhan got annoyed and started to drink. He noticed the Dragonborn couple who was looked just as done as him. In a moment of insanity or maybe trying to ease nerves, he offered a flask to them. The woman accepted the flask, drinking from it, and so did her husband. He also looked over to Rampage to check on him.
Rampage looked relatively fine, aside from a few bruises and a completely soured mood. He had heard the phrase "violence doesn't solve anything" many times, and yet, this was one of the incredibly rare times that saying was actually true. Sitting up, she silently watched Kiras and Theodor bicker, trying not to attract attention to herself as she watched the scene unfold.
There were a wide variety of problems, like a maze of fallen statues and copycats and molds. Every brick could be found twice, and every face was seen more than once. If you are unlucky enough, you might’ve even seen your own face in a bandit or a necromancer. Nothing was original, nothing was new. Here creation echoed in a chamber, a maze of mirrors that warped and bent reality to face you with new horrors and new itching contempt. you were lucky to breathe, even if it felt wrong, stolen.
If you were very quiet and very still, maybe you could hear the Walls breathe... Or the mutterings of a Madman trying to keep them alive desperately, along with everything trapped inside it.
Maybe he was scared- like a child grieving a not quite dead dog with a broken leg, even though they knew it was better to put down a suffering beast. But the walls breathed on, every shifting hallway, a new gauntlet to go through. How did time move here? Were your days, hours or weeks? Did it matter? Did the suffering endured change depending on the length of time in which it was experienced?
Theodor himself would only watch. maybe more would come. Perhaps more would change fate. Maybe just one more soul... One more mind... and if not that one then the next. For what else was there to do? Simply accept the inevitable? Oh no, no no no. Mourning Mortality was a mortifyingly mortal sin. There was no end goal but the same straight path as always, stretching far forward unto the horizon because what else was there...? Who would mourn a forgotten god? Certainly not Theodor. Not if there was no one left to mourn.
The definition of insanity: to do something over and over again with the feeble hope it will achieve different results.
@emperor-uriel-septim-vii @ingarthemage @severine-livincus @zealformayhem @kogandremaaz @kiraspaladinofmadness @angry-reachman-dragonpriest @king-of-stalkers
(He starts to feel panicked at the idea of having to choose between lives, his claws grazing the back of his hand repetitively.)
Zu'u ni paar oblaan fah naan. Vomindok miir.
The face hummed softly, bobbing up and down in the wall as if to nod without a neck.
”Grik alok ahst fin sil: Faaz. Daar los fin komeyt ney hi ahrk rok luft.”
(He opens his mouth to speak, but is mute with panic. He grasps his arms and shuts his eyes tightly, trying to find some semblance of composure.)
Krosis. Zu'u... vomindok miir. Saan hevno haalvut zu'u.
The Hunter walks up and puts a hand on Kogandremaaz’s shoulder, squeezing them before turning them around and grabbing him by the shoulders, squeezing him enough to force him to notice.
“Ay, mate. Look at me. I ain’t got no shit of what you are saying but I know that face. We aren’t losin’ ya. We WILL figure it out. The Abyss might be collapsing but we ain’t gonna go with it mate.”
(His shoulders tense, his claws digging into his arms as he refuses to meet eyes with anyone.)
I am sick and tired of death being the only way out of sorrow. I thought that death would rid me of that dread, but now I have to face it again, and I am just as clueless and ignorant as I was the last time and I... (his voice breaks, briefly.) I am too tired to think of another way out.
”We’ll figure it out. We have too. There’s nothing else for us to do. If we can save the Abyss, so be it. But if we can’t… We need to focus on getting the fuck outta here, yeah?”
(He sighs deeply, eyes emptier by the minute.)
Geh. Tiid bo amativ.
"So, that thing just ate this one's soul gem and didn't give new information?" She blinked in disappointment. "If she knew about this before, she would have eaten it herself. Now she doesn't even get to have a snack! Let us go. We need to get out of here so we have nice things again."
The Hunter nodded, before looking directly at the face. They suddenly ripped their mask down, revealing a tired but pale androgynous face.
“You know- all you all knowing god types have one thing in common. You sure are a bitch. You’re dying already. Why not let SOMEONE ELSE live?! Why keep us here to feed on us? What point does that serve you other than to lengthen your suffering? I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW LONG I’VE BEEN DOWN HERE! I don’t even know if I have anyone to go back to!”
They paused, freezing on the spot and staring at the empty sockets of the face staring back.
“We just want to live. Why don’t you want that too?”
They punched the wall- not the face itself, but the wall angrily, hard enough their knuckles cracked.
“ALL YOU GODS ARE FUCKIN’ BASTARDS IS WHAT YOU ARE.”
Damhan looked over at the Hunter, raising his brows slightly and flipping his hair. "That's what I'm saying. Except to Hircine, he seems as stuck here as we are."
”And if he wasn’t?”
The Hunter turned around and hissed.
“What do you think he’ll do when he gets OUT? Goddamnit I’m tired of ALL of ‘em, mate! Because they don’t FUCKIN’ care about ANYONE but themselves. Not really.”
They gestured behind themself.
“This one proves it. Fuckin’ hell. Won’t even let us the FUCK out because they’re dying.”
"Hey!! That's not true, not all or them!" Rampage shook her head. "Some are nice. . ."
”Nice doesn’t equate to selflessness, dammit!”
The Hunter turned their snippishness towards Ramage.
“It all doesn’t matt- ACK-“
Something, or someone- yanked the Hunter away from the rest of the party into a nearby wall, where they exploded into a pile of sweetrolls.
@emperor-uriel-septim-vii @ingarthemage @severine-livincus @zealformayhem @kogandremaaz @kiraspaladinofmadness @angry-reachman-dragonpriest @king-of-stalkers
"And that's why you don't test them." Damhan shook his head, opening a flask and pouring alcohol on the ground.
“Goodness, small squeaking rats everywhere. If only they’d keep their mouths shut for more than a moment, maybe they’d do better finding prey.”
Theodor emerged from down the shadows of the hallway with a positively livid sort of grin, really only smiling for the bit, for the appearances, but not doing too well at hiding his own growing hatred.
She gasped, then blankly stared at the sweet rolls, an expression of dread on her face. The fact that not even mortals can die in this place had already slipped her mind, so she was- rightfully- mortified.
Her gaze then had shifted onto Theodor, an expression of pure hatred and disgust spreading across their face.
"Hey, look who decided to finally show his face again!" Rampage hissed, taking a few steps back to hide behind Damhan.
Theodor clinked the Wabbajack into the ground like a cane, hands folded over its hilt like the perfect expression of calmness. It would have been picturesque if it wasn’t so rigid.
“Oh? I simply got bored WAITING for you to crack like twigs underfoot.”
He shot a sour glance at the face in the wall.
“Figured it was time the foot came crashing down. Figured I’d take a LOVELY little walk, heheh… Hm… You’ve been busy. Making friends I see?”
"Except we are not twigs." Rampage snarled, showing her teeth. Her fur defensively puffed up, making her look slightly larger and fluffier than usual. It is debatable whether that actually helped her intimidate anyone, but the sharp pin she took out of her hat and pointed at Theodor with did help her case a bit. "So stop with the nonsense, speak normally, not in riddles. Khajiit is sick of the bullshit this one has been going on and on about. And not her only! No one – not Rampage, not her friends, and not even the abyss itself takes him seriously or wants him here."
Theodor paused, raising an eyebrow, seemingly challenged and taking it to heart.
“Oh? The kitten has claws.”
He walked right up to her and loomed over her.
“If a serious Madgod is what you want, child, a serious Madgod is EXACTLY what you’ll get.”
The face finally spoke up, shifting closer to the cloaked Breton.
“Sheogorath, do not harm them. They must stay alive to get your prey.”
Theodor didn’t once look away from Rampage before shoving the cane into the Abyss’ mouth and ripping it down, yanking the Soul Gem out and onto the ground. The sculpture turned to mush before it even got another word in.
“Let me tell you a secret, little one. I am not doing this on behalf of the Abyss. The Abyss never wanted you here. If it wanted you to lose your minds it would have tried harder. The ONLY reason you’re alive is to keep ME from taking someone else. It’s a stalling game, and I. Am. Bored.”
He plucked the little Khajiit up and held them in the air, practically snarling in his face like a hateful dog.
“Tell me: How do you like your insides? Scrambled? Sunny side up?”
Rampage watched, listening to what he had to say in shock. The abyss. . . Never wanted them here? Then why, why was he even doing this?! She felt her mind racing.
Then, she stopped.
It didn't matter.
They felt so enraged that their head began spinning. It felt like they would be the next one to explode into sweetrolls if they didn't do something about their anger right at that exact moment.
"This one likes her insides intact, but yours – she will gladly eat scrambled!"
He didn't even try to get out of Theodor's grip: if anything, that was a very convenient way for them to reach his face! With a sharp swing to gain momentum, he started wildly stabbing at the madgod's face, treating it like a pincushion. In her frenzied rampage (heh), Rampage wasn't really picky about which parts of his face she would ruin, but she was trying to target his eyes in particular. She then decided that the hat pin wouldn't be nearly enough, no. . . Her rage leading her rather than the other way around, she bit into his neck, trying to make the promise of scrambling his insides come true.
There were a wide variety of problems, like a maze of fallen statues and copycats and molds. Every brick could be found twice, and every face was seen more than once. If you are unlucky enough, you might’ve even seen your own face in a bandit or a necromancer. Nothing was original, nothing was new. Here creation echoed in a chamber, a maze of mirrors that warped and bent reality to face you with new horrors and new itching contempt. you were lucky to breathe, even if it felt wrong, stolen.
If you were very quiet and very still, maybe you could hear the Walls breathe... Or the mutterings of a Madman trying to keep them alive desperately, along with everything trapped inside it.
Maybe he was scared- like a child grieving a not quite dead dog with a broken leg, even though they knew it was better to put down a suffering beast. But the walls breathed on, every shifting hallway, a new gauntlet to go through. How did time move here? Were your days, hours or weeks? Did it matter? Did the suffering endured change depending on the length of time in which it was experienced?
Theodor himself would only watch. maybe more would come. Perhaps more would change fate. Maybe just one more soul... One more mind... and if not that one then the next. For what else was there to do? Simply accept the inevitable? Oh no, no no no. Mourning Mortality was a mortifyingly mortal sin. There was no end goal but the same straight path as always, stretching far forward unto the horizon because what else was there...? Who would mourn a forgotten god? Certainly not Theodor. Not if there was no one left to mourn.
The definition of insanity: to do something over and over again with the feeble hope it will achieve different results.
@emperor-uriel-septim-vii @ingarthemage @severine-livincus @zealformayhem @kogandremaaz @kiraspaladinofmadness @angry-reachman-dragonpriest @king-of-stalkers
(He starts to feel panicked at the idea of having to choose between lives, his claws grazing the back of his hand repetitively.)
Zu'u ni paar oblaan fah naan. Vomindok miir.
The face hummed softly, bobbing up and down in the wall as if to nod without a neck.
”Grik alok ahst fin sil: Faaz. Daar los fin komeyt ney hi ahrk rok luft.”
(He opens his mouth to speak, but is mute with panic. He grasps his arms and shuts his eyes tightly, trying to find some semblance of composure.)
Krosis. Zu'u... vomindok miir. Saan hevno haalvut zu'u.
The Hunter walks up and puts a hand on Kogandremaaz’s shoulder, squeezing them before turning them around and grabbing him by the shoulders, squeezing him enough to force him to notice.
“Ay, mate. Look at me. I ain’t got no shit of what you are saying but I know that face. We aren’t losin’ ya. We WILL figure it out. The Abyss might be collapsing but we ain’t gonna go with it mate.”
(His shoulders tense, his claws digging into his arms as he refuses to meet eyes with anyone.)
I am sick and tired of death being the only way out of sorrow. I thought that death would rid me of that dread, but now I have to face it again, and I am just as clueless and ignorant as I was the last time and I... (his voice breaks, briefly.) I am too tired to think of another way out.
”We’ll figure it out. We have too. There’s nothing else for us to do. If we can save the Abyss, so be it. But if we can’t… We need to focus on getting the fuck outta here, yeah?”
(He sighs deeply, eyes emptier by the minute.)
Geh. Tiid bo amativ.
"So, that thing just ate this one's soul gem and didn't give new information?" She blinked in disappointment. "If she knew about this before, she would have eaten it herself. Now she doesn't even get to have a snack! Let us go. We need to get out of here so we have nice things again."
The Hunter nodded, before looking directly at the face. They suddenly ripped their mask down, revealing a tired but pale androgynous face.
“You know- all you all knowing god types have one thing in common. You sure are a bitch. You’re dying already. Why not let SOMEONE ELSE live?! Why keep us here to feed on us? What point does that serve you other than to lengthen your suffering? I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW LONG I’VE BEEN DOWN HERE! I don’t even know if I have anyone to go back to!”
They paused, freezing on the spot and staring at the empty sockets of the face staring back.
“We just want to live. Why don’t you want that too?”
They punched the wall- not the face itself, but the wall angrily, hard enough their knuckles cracked.
“ALL YOU GODS ARE FUCKIN’ BASTARDS IS WHAT YOU ARE.”
Damhan looked over at the Hunter, raising his brows slightly and flipping his hair. "That's what I'm saying. Except to Hircine, he seems as stuck here as we are."
”And if he wasn’t?”
The Hunter turned around and hissed.
“What do you think he’ll do when he gets OUT? Goddamnit I’m tired of ALL of ‘em, mate! Because they don’t FUCKIN’ care about ANYONE but themselves. Not really.”
They gestured behind themself.
“This one proves it. Fuckin’ hell. Won’t even let us the FUCK out because they’re dying.”
"Hey!! That's not true, not all or them!" Rampage shook her head. "Some are nice. . ."
”Nice doesn’t equate to selflessness, dammit!”
The Hunter turned their snippishness towards Ramage.
“It all doesn’t matt- ACK-“
Something, or someone- yanked the Hunter away from the rest of the party into a nearby wall, where they exploded into a pile of sweetrolls.
@emperor-uriel-septim-vii @ingarthemage @severine-livincus @zealformayhem @kogandremaaz @kiraspaladinofmadness @angry-reachman-dragonpriest @king-of-stalkers
"And that's why you don't test them." Damhan shook his head, opening a flask and pouring alcohol on the ground.
“Goodness, small squeaking rats everywhere. If only they’d keep their mouths shut for more than a moment, maybe they’d do better finding prey.”
Theodor emerged from down the shadows of the hallway with a positively livid sort of grin, really only smiling for the bit, for the appearances, but not doing too well at hiding his own growing hatred.
She gasped, then blankly stared at the sweet rolls, an expression of dread on her face. The fact that not even mortals can die in this place had already slipped her mind, so she was- rightfully- mortified.
Her gaze then had shifted onto Theodor, an expression of pure hatred and disgust spreading across their face.
"Hey, look who decided to finally show his face again!" Rampage hissed, taking a few steps back to hide behind Damhan.
Theodor clinked the Wabbajack into the ground like a cane, hands folded over its hilt like the perfect expression of calmness. It would have been picturesque if it wasn’t so rigid.
“Oh? I simply got bored WAITING for you to crack like twigs underfoot.”
He shot a sour glance at the face in the wall.
“Figured it was time the foot came crashing down. Figured I’d take a LOVELY little walk, heheh… Hm… You’ve been busy. Making friends I see?”
"Except we are not twigs." Rampage snarled, showing her teeth. Her fur defensively puffed up, making her look slightly larger and fluffier than usual. It is debatable whether that actually helped her intimidate anyone, but the sharp pin she took out of her hat and pointed at Theodor with did help her case a bit. "So stop with the nonsense, speak normally, not in riddles. Khajiit is sick of the bullshit this one has been going on and on about. And not her only! No one – not Rampage, not her friends, and not even the abyss itself takes him seriously or wants him here."
There were a wide variety of problems, like a maze of fallen statues and copycats and molds. Every brick could be found twice, and every face was seen more than once. If you are unlucky enough, you might’ve even seen your own face in a bandit or a necromancer. Nothing was original, nothing was new. Here creation echoed in a chamber, a maze of mirrors that warped and bent reality to face you with new horrors and new itching contempt. you were lucky to breathe, even if it felt wrong, stolen.
If you were very quiet and very still, maybe you could hear the Walls breathe... Or the mutterings of a Madman trying to keep them alive desperately, along with everything trapped inside it.
Maybe he was scared- like a child grieving a not quite dead dog with a broken leg, even though they knew it was better to put down a suffering beast. But the walls breathed on, every shifting hallway, a new gauntlet to go through. How did time move here? Were your days, hours or weeks? Did it matter? Did the suffering endured change depending on the length of time in which it was experienced?
Theodor himself would only watch. maybe more would come. Perhaps more would change fate. Maybe just one more soul... One more mind... and if not that one then the next. For what else was there to do? Simply accept the inevitable? Oh no, no no no. Mourning Mortality was a mortifyingly mortal sin. There was no end goal but the same straight path as always, stretching far forward unto the horizon because what else was there...? Who would mourn a forgotten god? Certainly not Theodor. Not if there was no one left to mourn.
The definition of insanity: to do something over and over again with the feeble hope it will achieve different results.
@emperor-uriel-septim-vii @ingarthemage @severine-livincus @zealformayhem @kogandremaaz @kiraspaladinofmadness @angry-reachman-dragonpriest @king-of-stalkers
(He starts to feel panicked at the idea of having to choose between lives, his claws grazing the back of his hand repetitively.)
Zu'u ni paar oblaan fah naan. Vomindok miir.
The face hummed softly, bobbing up and down in the wall as if to nod without a neck.
”Grik alok ahst fin sil: Faaz. Daar los fin komeyt ney hi ahrk rok luft.”
(He opens his mouth to speak, but is mute with panic. He grasps his arms and shuts his eyes tightly, trying to find some semblance of composure.)
Krosis. Zu'u... vomindok miir. Saan hevno haalvut zu'u.
The Hunter walks up and puts a hand on Kogandremaaz’s shoulder, squeezing them before turning them around and grabbing him by the shoulders, squeezing him enough to force him to notice.
“Ay, mate. Look at me. I ain’t got no shit of what you are saying but I know that face. We aren’t losin’ ya. We WILL figure it out. The Abyss might be collapsing but we ain’t gonna go with it mate.”
(His shoulders tense, his claws digging into his arms as he refuses to meet eyes with anyone.)
I am sick and tired of death being the only way out of sorrow. I thought that death would rid me of that dread, but now I have to face it again, and I am just as clueless and ignorant as I was the last time and I... (his voice breaks, briefly.) I am too tired to think of another way out.
”We’ll figure it out. We have too. There’s nothing else for us to do. If we can save the Abyss, so be it. But if we can’t… We need to focus on getting the fuck outta here, yeah?”
(He sighs deeply, eyes emptier by the minute.)
Geh. Tiid bo amativ.
"So, that thing just ate this one's soul gem and didn't give new information?" She blinked in disappointment. "If she knew about this before, she would have eaten it herself. Now she doesn't even get to have a snack! Let us go. We need to get out of here so we have nice things again."
The Hunter nodded, before looking directly at the face. They suddenly ripped their mask down, revealing a tired but pale androgynous face.
“You know- all you all knowing god types have one thing in common. You sure are a bitch. You’re dying already. Why not let SOMEONE ELSE live?! Why keep us here to feed on us? What point does that serve you other than to lengthen your suffering? I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW LONG I’VE BEEN DOWN HERE! I don’t even know if I have anyone to go back to!”
They paused, freezing on the spot and staring at the empty sockets of the face staring back.
“We just want to live. Why don’t you want that too?”
They punched the wall- not the face itself, but the wall angrily, hard enough their knuckles cracked.
“ALL YOU GODS ARE FUCKIN’ BASTARDS IS WHAT YOU ARE.”
Damhan looked over at the Hunter, raising his brows slightly and flipping his hair. "That's what I'm saying. Except to Hircine, he seems as stuck here as we are."
”And if he wasn’t?”
The Hunter turned around and hissed.
“What do you think he’ll do when he gets OUT? Goddamnit I’m tired of ALL of ‘em, mate! Because they don’t FUCKIN’ care about ANYONE but themselves. Not really.”
They gestured behind themself.
“This one proves it. Fuckin’ hell. Won’t even let us the FUCK out because they’re dying.”
"Hey!! That's not true, not all or them!" Rampage shook her head. "Some are nice. . ."
”Nice doesn’t equate to selflessness, dammit!”
The Hunter turned their snippishness towards Ramage.
“It all doesn’t matt- ACK-“
Something, or someone- yanked the Hunter away from the rest of the party into a nearby wall, where they exploded into a pile of sweetrolls.
@emperor-uriel-septim-vii @ingarthemage @severine-livincus @zealformayhem @kogandremaaz @kiraspaladinofmadness @angry-reachman-dragonpriest @king-of-stalkers
"And that's why you don't test them." Damhan shook his head, opening a flask and pouring alcohol on the ground.
“Goodness, small squeaking rats everywhere. If only they’d keep their mouths shut for more than a moment, maybe they’d do better finding prey.”
Theodor emerged from down the shadows of the hallway with a positively livid sort of grin, really only smiling for the bit, for the appearances, but not doing too well at hiding his own growing hatred.
She gasped, then blankly stared at the sweet rolls, an expression of dread on her face. The fact that not even mortals can die in this place had already slipped her mind, so she was- rightfully- mortified.
Her gaze then had shifted onto Theodor, an expression of pure hatred and disgust spreading across their face.
"Hey, look who decided to finally show his face again!" Rampage hissed, taking a few steps back to hide behind Damhan.
There were a wide variety of problems, like a maze of fallen statues and copycats and molds. Every brick could be found twice, and every face was seen more than once. If you are unlucky enough, you might’ve even seen your own face in a bandit or a necromancer. Nothing was original, nothing was new. Here creation echoed in a chamber, a maze of mirrors that warped and bent reality to face you with new horrors and new itching contempt. you were lucky to breathe, even if it felt wrong, stolen.
If you were very quiet and very still, maybe you could hear the Walls breathe... Or the mutterings of a Madman trying to keep them alive desperately, along with everything trapped inside it.
Maybe he was scared- like a child grieving a not quite dead dog with a broken leg, even though they knew it was better to put down a suffering beast. But the walls breathed on, every shifting hallway, a new gauntlet to go through. How did time move here? Were your days, hours or weeks? Did it matter? Did the suffering endured change depending on the length of time in which it was experienced?
Theodor himself would only watch. maybe more would come. Perhaps more would change fate. Maybe just one more soul... One more mind... and if not that one then the next. For what else was there to do? Simply accept the inevitable? Oh no, no no no. Mourning Mortality was a mortifyingly mortal sin. There was no end goal but the same straight path as always, stretching far forward unto the horizon because what else was there...? Who would mourn a forgotten god? Certainly not Theodor. Not if there was no one left to mourn.
The definition of insanity: to do something over and over again with the feeble hope it will achieve different results.
@emperor-uriel-septim-vii @ingarthemage @severine-livincus @zealformayhem @kogandremaaz @kiraspaladinofmadness @angry-reachman-dragonpriest @king-of-stalkers
(He starts to feel panicked at the idea of having to choose between lives, his claws grazing the back of his hand repetitively.)
Zu'u ni paar oblaan fah naan. Vomindok miir.
The face hummed softly, bobbing up and down in the wall as if to nod without a neck.
”Grik alok ahst fin sil: Faaz. Daar los fin komeyt ney hi ahrk rok luft.”
(He opens his mouth to speak, but is mute with panic. He grasps his arms and shuts his eyes tightly, trying to find some semblance of composure.)
Krosis. Zu'u... vomindok miir. Saan hevno haalvut zu'u.
The Hunter walks up and puts a hand on Kogandremaaz’s shoulder, squeezing them before turning them around and grabbing him by the shoulders, squeezing him enough to force him to notice.
“Ay, mate. Look at me. I ain’t got no shit of what you are saying but I know that face. We aren’t losin’ ya. We WILL figure it out. The Abyss might be collapsing but we ain’t gonna go with it mate.”
(His shoulders tense, his claws digging into his arms as he refuses to meet eyes with anyone.)
I am sick and tired of death being the only way out of sorrow. I thought that death would rid me of that dread, but now I have to face it again, and I am just as clueless and ignorant as I was the last time and I... (his voice breaks, briefly.) I am too tired to think of another way out.
”We’ll figure it out. We have too. There’s nothing else for us to do. If we can save the Abyss, so be it. But if we can’t… We need to focus on getting the fuck outta here, yeah?”
(He sighs deeply, eyes emptier by the minute.)
Geh. Tiid bo amativ.
"So, that thing just ate this one's soul gem and didn't give new information?" She blinked in disappointment. "If she knew about this before, she would have eaten it herself. Now she doesn't even get to have a snack! Let us go. We need to get out of here so we have nice things again."
The Hunter nodded, before looking directly at the face. They suddenly ripped their mask down, revealing a tired but pale androgynous face.
“You know- all you all knowing god types have one thing in common. You sure are a bitch. You’re dying already. Why not let SOMEONE ELSE live?! Why keep us here to feed on us? What point does that serve you other than to lengthen your suffering? I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW LONG I’VE BEEN DOWN HERE! I don’t even know if I have anyone to go back to!”
They paused, freezing on the spot and staring at the empty sockets of the face staring back.
“We just want to live. Why don’t you want that too?”
They punched the wall- not the face itself, but the wall angrily, hard enough their knuckles cracked.
“ALL YOU GODS ARE FUCKIN’ BASTARDS IS WHAT YOU ARE.”
Damhan looked over at the Hunter, raising his brows slightly and flipping his hair. "That's what I'm saying. Except to Hircine, he seems as stuck here as we are."
”And if he wasn’t?”
The Hunter turned around and hissed.
“What do you think he’ll do when he gets OUT? Goddamnit I’m tired of ALL of ‘em, mate! Because they don’t FUCKIN’ care about ANYONE but themselves. Not really.”
They gestured behind themself.
“This one proves it. Fuckin’ hell. Won’t even let us the FUCK out because they’re dying.”
"Hey!! That's not true, not all or them!" Rampage shook her head. "Some are nice. . ."
There were a wide variety of problems, like a maze of fallen statues and copycats and molds. Every brick could be found twice, and every face was seen more than once. If you are unlucky enough, you might’ve even seen your own face in a bandit or a necromancer. Nothing was original, nothing was new. Here creation echoed in a chamber, a maze of mirrors that warped and bent reality to face you with new horrors and new itching contempt. you were lucky to breathe, even if it felt wrong, stolen.
If you were very quiet and very still, maybe you could hear the Walls breathe... Or the mutterings of a Madman trying to keep them alive desperately, along with everything trapped inside it.
Maybe he was scared- like a child grieving a not quite dead dog with a broken leg, even though they knew it was better to put down a suffering beast. But the walls breathed on, every shifting hallway, a new gauntlet to go through. How did time move here? Were your days, hours or weeks? Did it matter? Did the suffering endured change depending on the length of time in which it was experienced?
Theodor himself would only watch. maybe more would come. Perhaps more would change fate. Maybe just one more soul... One more mind... and if not that one then the next. For what else was there to do? Simply accept the inevitable? Oh no, no no no. Mourning Mortality was a mortifyingly mortal sin. There was no end goal but the same straight path as always, stretching far forward unto the horizon because what else was there...? Who would mourn a forgotten god? Certainly not Theodor. Not if there was no one left to mourn.
The definition of insanity: to do something over and over again with the feeble hope it will achieve different results.
@emperor-uriel-septim-vii @ingarthemage @severine-livincus @zealformayhem @kogandremaaz @kiraspaladinofmadness @angry-reachman-dragonpriest @king-of-stalkers
(He starts to feel panicked at the idea of having to choose between lives, his claws grazing the back of his hand repetitively.)
Zu'u ni paar oblaan fah naan. Vomindok miir.
The face hummed softly, bobbing up and down in the wall as if to nod without a neck.
”Grik alok ahst fin sil: Faaz. Daar los fin komeyt ney hi ahrk rok luft.”
(He opens his mouth to speak, but is mute with panic. He grasps his arms and shuts his eyes tightly, trying to find some semblance of composure.)
Krosis. Zu'u... vomindok miir. Saan hevno haalvut zu'u.
The Hunter walks up and puts a hand on Kogandremaaz’s shoulder, squeezing them before turning them around and grabbing him by the shoulders, squeezing him enough to force him to notice.
“Ay, mate. Look at me. I ain’t got no shit of what you are saying but I know that face. We aren’t losin’ ya. We WILL figure it out. The Abyss might be collapsing but we ain’t gonna go with it mate.”
(His shoulders tense, his claws digging into his arms as he refuses to meet eyes with anyone.)
I am sick and tired of death being the only way out of sorrow. I thought that death would rid me of that dread, but now I have to face it again, and I am just as clueless and ignorant as I was the last time and I... (his voice breaks, briefly.) I am too tired to think of another way out.
”We’ll figure it out. We have too. There’s nothing else for us to do. If we can save the Abyss, so be it. But if we can’t… We need to focus on getting the fuck outta here, yeah?”
(He sighs deeply, eyes emptier by the minute.)
Geh. Tiid bo amativ.
"So, that thing just ate this one's soul gem and didn't give new information?" She blinked in disappointment. "If she knew about this before, she would have eaten it herself. Now she doesn't even get to have a snack! Let us go. We need to get out of here so we have nice things again."
Rampage On Nirn (PART I)
Part 1 – Next: TBD