[308 / 46 / 72]
205KiB, 1011x1280, __caiman_dorohedoro_drawn_by_ian_su__c45173de72c03f97b498be5d3dafbbf7.jpg
A Quest about flamboyance, excellence, and violence.
—
"One-two-three, and a one-two-three, one-two-three…"
The voice of the demon is sweet and lilting, a velvet pitch that strokes the soul.
You'd shiver if you weren't busy bleeding out.
It approaches your prone form in spiked heels stained with gore, furred legs gliding across the floor.
Dazed and stricken, you struggle to blink the blood out of your eyes. The room is swimming. Your associates have died--doesn't take a genius to guess you're next. At the far end of the wrecked ballroom, you can just barely see the burst-open remains of the dumbass that summoned the demon, his corpse a festering cocoon of viscera spilling across the elegant stage floor.
With a wheeze and grunt of strained effort, you manage to push yourself off the ground, swaying as you stand. The stinging gash in your forehead weeps openly, blinding you. A hollow feeling opens in your gut, both metaphorically and literally–an unsteady glance downwards reveals your intestines peeking through the fatty flap of your stomach lining, ready to spill out like an overstuffed Thanksgiving turkey.
What a pain.
With a quick snort, you blow the blood clot out of your nose, letting it splatter at the feet of the approaching demon. It stops, almost as if surprised by your audacity.
—
[Select one.]
>Ashes to Ashes. With a mental flex, scarlet flames swallow your lower torso, burning away the impurity that stains your soul. In moments, you're as good as new, though a light dusting of blackened ash stains the finery of your suit. That's gonna need a few hours in a dry cleaner… (Fairytale)
>Samsara. After taking a second to steel yourself, you pick up your knife… and slice open your throat. As your old corpse disappears in a puff of smoke, you snatch the falling weapon out of the air, settling into a close-combat stance. You're buck-naked and ready to throw down. (Arcane)
>Hope Springs Eternal. Any second now… and right on time, your flesh begins knitting itself together again, muscles regrowing and split skin sewing itself back up in the blink of an eye. As the last bone snaps into place, you allow yourself a moment to smooth back your hair. (Ability)
—
The demon eyes you up and down, licking its lips with a foot-long tongue. Then, the tip of its fleshy purple appendage rolls over each spinning eye, bulbous pus-yellow things with ringed black sclerae.
A crushing pressure bears down on your shoulders, the raw embodiment of its <span class="mu-s">Lust</span>. The pervasive sensation of its naked desire is like insects writhing beneath your skin.
--Pull yourself together, Brutus.
You take a steadying breath and match its stare.
"Showtime."
[1/2]
—
"One-two-three, and a one-two-three, one-two-three…"
The voice of the demon is sweet and lilting, a velvet pitch that strokes the soul.
You'd shiver if you weren't busy bleeding out.
It approaches your prone form in spiked heels stained with gore, furred legs gliding across the floor.
Dazed and stricken, you struggle to blink the blood out of your eyes. The room is swimming. Your associates have died--doesn't take a genius to guess you're next. At the far end of the wrecked ballroom, you can just barely see the burst-open remains of the dumbass that summoned the demon, his corpse a festering cocoon of viscera spilling across the elegant stage floor.
With a wheeze and grunt of strained effort, you manage to push yourself off the ground, swaying as you stand. The stinging gash in your forehead weeps openly, blinding you. A hollow feeling opens in your gut, both metaphorically and literally–an unsteady glance downwards reveals your intestines peeking through the fatty flap of your stomach lining, ready to spill out like an overstuffed Thanksgiving turkey.
What a pain.
With a quick snort, you blow the blood clot out of your nose, letting it splatter at the feet of the approaching demon. It stops, almost as if surprised by your audacity.
—
[Select one.]
>Ashes to Ashes. With a mental flex, scarlet flames swallow your lower torso, burning away the impurity that stains your soul. In moments, you're as good as new, though a light dusting of blackened ash stains the finery of your suit. That's gonna need a few hours in a dry cleaner… (Fairytale)
>Samsara. After taking a second to steel yourself, you pick up your knife… and slice open your throat. As your old corpse disappears in a puff of smoke, you snatch the falling weapon out of the air, settling into a close-combat stance. You're buck-naked and ready to throw down. (Arcane)
>Hope Springs Eternal. Any second now… and right on time, your flesh begins knitting itself together again, muscles regrowing and split skin sewing itself back up in the blink of an eye. As the last bone snaps into place, you allow yourself a moment to smooth back your hair. (Ability)
—
The demon eyes you up and down, licking its lips with a foot-long tongue. Then, the tip of its fleshy purple appendage rolls over each spinning eye, bulbous pus-yellow things with ringed black sclerae.
A crushing pressure bears down on your shoulders, the raw embodiment of its <span class="mu-s">Lust</span>. The pervasive sensation of its naked desire is like insects writhing beneath your skin.
--Pull yourself together, Brutus.
You take a steadying breath and match its stare.
"Showtime."
[1/2]
