>>6087957You really, absolutely, **CATEGORICALLY**, do not want to directly interact with the NanoCytic Systems.
Think of them like antimatter to you, grand king of the cough.
You touch it, you wither and die. Your enormous powers end at nanoscale robotics that hard-working, very paranoid engineers have made very certain have precisely 0% organic constituent.
That writ, you can indeed use Duplicity and some clever trickery with Pluripotentiality to provide a false trail that they should follow instead and hope to lead them on to other targets instead - though you'll need to specify an actual coordinate grid target where you (glean/guess/estimate/have access to) your target. It's the LOOK OVER HERE rather than the "stick your hand in lava" option.
Suppose BULB is bound as you, to act mostly in an area aorund its followers, then perhaps if you had your friends near theirs, you could mark those very followers as targets for the NanoCytic Systems. In truth, you'd be throwing a bit of yourself at them and making it very obvious and then the plaguehunters would come-a-calling.
Much like you, Bulp only really "exists" in the bodies and minds of his allies. Presumably. Maybe those weird fleshy growths that Gallium and Nadir and Wilder and NeoGenesis can see past the doors have something to do with it as well. If you want to target him directly, your access vector is its disciples and growths (Much like things targetting you are through your wonderful, reliable (??) fellows)
So, try again, take another turn.
---
Inside the TEMPLE OF THE BULB, enormous power-cradles and thermoregulation cores and vast powerbank still thrum with power, though the organic growths eveywhere appear to be close to knocking out this system.
Beyond, a chanting gaggle of Wood Children shamans intone their clipped language to their high icon of plague and pox
And just beyond them, creaking like an old oak, bark-skin like the thousand year red woods, eyes brimming with fanaticism stands the paladin of plague itself: THE GUARDIAN OF THE BULB.
That is ONE big sword in its withered, gnarly hands, a sort of macuahuitl where sharp bits of floor plating and robotic casing have been bound tightly. Don't those things cut through horses? Armor? Man-flesh??
>>6087956You may wish to take a different turn, given the revelation of this interior.
