ERode

Why Were We Reincarnated as Orcs?!

Just a quick post to get myself back in it. What's the posting speed expectations for this again?

Why Were We Reincarnated as Orcs?!

She had lost herself for a moment there.

In memories that she had not thought she could have been lost in. She had no memories of such vast greenery; the Soviet Union was of tundra and ice, short brush over barren land. And she had been in this forest her entire 'orc' life as well. But what change it made, to get just a little bit of elevation! How vast the verdancy, when seen from above! It reminded her of childhood fantasies, of the grace of birds, of climbing up the steps of the chapel's tower. The claim of becoming the rear guard was just a claim.

Esfir didn't know that she needed a moment, not until now. But the explosion that burst out from the open cave broke that moment. She looked at that opening. Stared at it. It rang in her ears, even when she was so far away. Echoing away.

Always so far away, but she still felt it in her stomach.

...

"That wasn't a scream."

The scorch marks were evident, but neither Vola nor Lazash looked like their insides had liquidfied, and their limbs were certainly in place, so the explosion must have been more a firework than a proper bomb. Esfir hid what flicker of relief she felt though, and instead focused on the presence.

"Explain what happened. Was that your magic, or a creature?"

And if it was a creature, could that be used?

@Unkown58@Crusader Lord

Kurai Majokko

So, how fragile are Emblems anyways? Are they like, liable to break from a single blow?

Kurai Majokko

Mhmm, positionally, I do think it'd make sense for Nonsuch and Lycoris (and by extension, Evil Eye too) to be relatively close to each other, due to the mountain being one of the two options that Evil Eye had to retreat towards.

Just a bit of an observation I might act upon in the future.

Iris Ascendis

_{@Estylwen@Nanaya}

As twisted and disturbed and populated as Ciara’s mind was, however, Otis did not receive any of that. He was a magus of the arcane, after all, not some primal numbskull or a deluded occultist. The essence he manipulated held strict guidelines and protections. Only thoughts were shared, not the mind that projected such thoughts, and when the dark-haired girl agreed, he turned, prepared to leave.

“Heeeeeey!”

He was not going to turn for that idiot. He was, perhaps, even in the mood to finish what the statue clearly could not. The revolver clicked, cycling to its next bullet with musical precision. The winged knight had flown back up, his partner had disappeared into the shadow. His opponent was fumbling about, as if wholly unaware of the situation he was in. Soaked to the bone, having lost his stock of potions. All the Strigidae would have to do was turn around quickly, fire for center mass. But…

The Chef looked like it may present a greater problem.

“Potions go into glass bottles because glass is non-reactive and transparent. Easy to identify and no chance of the concoction changing over long periods of time.” His eyes etched the image of the doors that the Mannekins came from into his memory. A spot to return to, if something unexpected happened to his partner. And as for this one? He slipped his hand into his bag, retrieving a small ball wrapped in plain wax paper.

“Catch. It’ll help with the pain.”

It wouldn’t. It was just hard candy. But if doctors could lie about it, so could Otis.

“I’m going the opposite direction. Keep up and explain how your shoes work. Is it a magical tool? Your Ethos? Or just magic? What ‘words’ constitute it? What’s your name? I thought Wingram took only the elites, but you seem lacking in that eliteness, so what are you good at?”

Each question was punctuated by another kick against the ground, Otis clearly accelerating away from all the trouble behind him to go the exact opposite direction that the sign recommended. Whether wing-boy kept up or not was up to him, but if he didn’t? Well, maybe he should’ve taken his time on that bridge instead.

Kurai Majokko

This is truly Neon Tempest’s Joker moment.

Kurai Majokko

Very cool, very magical.

Kurai Majokko

_@Emeth

There was no such thing as a normal magical girl anyways.

It was insane enough already, juggling a double identity where one half was tasked with killing supernatural monstrosities that no one else could even comprehend. It was doubly insane to do so when one was certifiably a child in the eyes of the law. Anyone who sought to follow a cat with a TV for a head rather than go talk to a psychiatrist about their hallucinations was already long gone.

So there wasn’t much need for Nonsuch to be all that bothered by her quarry’s own illusions. Exhaust seeped deep into her clothing and skin, the maniacal laughter finally audible amidst the roar of traffic as it ignored physics and ambience in order to inject itself directly into her senses. The paladin’s spine shivered at the sensation; rare were magical girls who possessed abilities so non-destructive, when it was in their nature and design to fight alone. It didn’t matter to Nonsuch though, what illusions were tossed in her direction. It didn’t matter what monsters appeared, if they scattered to mist by charging through. It didn’t mean much, the blood pouring out from her foe’s eyes. It wasn’t worth chasing, the motorcycles and doppelgangers that emerged from the shadows of passing vehicles.

After all, so long as illusion persisted, the gaze she held was the ‘real’ one.

And, despite illusion and delusion, the hallucination of another’s madness pulled into reality, it was Nonsuch who noticed first, the gradual decline of traffic. Her gaze, set ever-forward, had caught the blockade a precious few seconds before Evil Eye did. A tunnel, a collective of stopped cars, chugging through the gap, and…

…the opportunity, for Nonsuch to accelerate without worry.

The squealing of burning rubber was not enough to drown out the crack of a new pothole appearing as Nonsuch slammed her Sweet Arm into the ground, anchoring it there as her boots stepped upon the spike at the opposite end of the hammerhead. Magic flowed, the sole of one foot bleeding as the attractive energies between herself and her weapon rose and rose. Building up energy. Building up force.
Her right hand extended, forming a gun. Index pointed at her target. Thumb cocked.

“Bang.”

And she switched from opposites to self-same.

One moment, Evil Eye was balancing upon the barricade.

The next, her motorcycle was behind her, far behind her and she could faintly register her partner’s flesh-puppet pressed hard against her back, could definitively see the concrete pavement rushing towards her, a sander to turn her face into a smooth, bloody plane, bereft of eyes, a nose, lips, and teeth. And then, she could see nothing at all, but a metal gauntlet closing in.

Three bodies tumbled against the highway.

One was lost in transition, lifeless limbs crick-crackling as it was left in the dust.

Two continued on, slamming into another barricade and bouncing over it, before crashing into the grassy ditch beyond.

And Nonsuch, her face stained with the blood from injuries that could only be considered self-inflicted, pushed herself up from her quarry, the iron gauntlet that protected Evil Eye’s face falling apart to reveal fingers like broken twigs.

There was no such thing as a normal magical girl.

And of the unordinary, she was the nonsuch.

“Made me work for it, didn’t you?” Steaming blood fell, drop by drop, yet the smile, the scorching light, did not waver. “This has to be the first time we’ve been properly face-to-face!”

Crick-crack went the broken twigs, closing into a fist.

Iris Ascendis

Dang, real speedy round this time.

Why Were We Reincarnated as Orcs?!

@Zeroth Eyo, think I’m good to rejoin. Ya got space for me, or naw? No hard feelings either way.