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Post by 0 on Sept 16, 2017 0:52:15 GMT
The scythe's blade pointed from one to the other, sharpened tip following the fireball as it rolled across the floor into a stack of wood, setting it aflame. The fire reflected wickedly off the silver steel. Burning wood--it...was made of wood--....
The object lifted its hands and...clapped. A few short smacks of palm against palm, inky droplets spattering the dry floor below. In those moments the pyramid spun faster above its blade's heel, glowing a little brighter and humming a little louder. It all stopped soon enough, the scythe seeming to settle once more upon its comfortable perch, becoming as still as, well, an inanimate object.
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Post by Tzuvachyysh on Sept 17, 2017 1:27:15 GMT
Luche just kind of stared off into the middle distance. She hadn't done much of anything... spectacular. Picking herself up, the demoness cautiously scooted further into the cavern on all fours. The nice lady didn't seem happy with her antics, and there was a lot that was going over Luche's head at the moment.
She tried summoning another fireball, but it fizzled out in her hands. A second attempt ended up blowing a puff of smoke and ash right into her face. Coughing, her tail twitched in irritation, she kept trying.
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Loner, Kazetatsu, Kaze
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Post by Loner。 on Sept 19, 2017 12:10:37 GMT
Hair still on end, the yokai moved carefully to the other edge of the fire, positioning herself where she could keep an eye on the walking disaster waiting to happen and the scythe. She wanted to be able to see them well before they moved if either tried to be malicious. Luche seemed too dumb for that. The scythe on the other hand was a bit of an enigma. Hard to tell what something might be thinking when it didn't bear the usual markers.
Izune crouched by the fire, poking the wood into a more functional shape with an intact stick.
The heat of the flames soon made up for the dampness, drying out the surrounding area while the wood smoked unpleasantly due to having been so damp itself. At least rocks acted much like a natural chimney, wicking smoke upwards and away from the area enough that it wasn't going to cause choking.
Luche on the other hand, seemed to be having a harder time with her own flames. "Leave it." Izune instructed firmly. They had a fire burning in the woodpile, and that should be sufficient for the moment.
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Post by Tzuvachyysh on Sept 20, 2017 0:34:37 GMT
Luche stopped on command, her only protest a small whine. She wanted to impress the nice lady! It didn't really occur to her that her attempts so far had been dangerous.
So far the speedy cutty thingy with the floating triangle pet hadn't done much. Folding her knees in front of her, she cocked her head at it, unsure whether to approach or even speak to it. It definitely had a familiar smell, but surely that didn't mean anything... did it?
Finally, curiosity got the better of her, and she pried in (butchered) Daemonic ["Hello! Iz not!mean? Am Luchel'mh-raght'Kyyzahb. 'Luche' short. You is?"]
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Post by 0 on Sept 20, 2017 0:48:56 GMT
The scythe didn't react until one of the creatures before it started babbling in a familiar demonic language. Its blade was turned down and to the side, a drop of ink running down the steel, as if to mimic the eye of a bird peeping at the goat-legged imp. The pyramid above its staff once more whirled faster, emitting a short, soft bong.
Hidden in that bong was something of a garbled voice, the object replying in kind; "¡Sí!" The pyramid then returned to its normal, sluggish rotation and buzzing hum. No name or further response was given, and the scythe was still once more.
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Administrator
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Loner, Kazetatsu, Kaze
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Post by Loner。 on Sept 21, 2017 2:02:10 GMT
Izune watched the two for a moment. The girl was obviously trying to talk but the necrolyptian was not familiar to the yokai's ears.
"don't touch anything." She advised, rising to her feet once she saw she had a chance with the rain letting up slightly. She intended to find something eatable out there in the midst of the elements.
it shouldn't be too hard.
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Post by Tzuvachyysh on Sept 24, 2017 4:33:09 GMT
Once again at a loss for what to do, Luche waited all of five minutes after the nice lady left before moving, being extra careful not to touch a darn thing. The spinny slicey thing was still perched atop the furs, staring(?) at her.
Now was the question she couldn't place. Was it's name "see", or was it affirming its niceness? Luche didn't know what to make of what she saw, but that sure as heck wouldn't stop her. Edging closer, the curious devil reached out to poke the end of the stick.
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Post by 0 on Sept 24, 2017 5:08:38 GMT
One stranger left, several minutes later followed by the second inching closer to it, and through it all the scythe did not make a single move.
...Until its shaft was poked, and only then did all hell break loose-- the scythe's tail twitched once, an ink-drenched, arrowheadead tip coming very close to touching the offender should she not dodge, but otherwise it remained very still.
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Post by Tzuvachyysh on Sept 24, 2017 22:56:39 GMT
Welp, that happened. Luche instinctively retreated from the "attack" with a tiny yelp, surprised by such sudden motion, having not even graced a finger across the stick thing's surface. She didn't move far, though, inquisitively eyeing the threshing device as she brought herself up onto her haunches. For several minutes she stayed that way, staring down the farming implement without moving a muscle, aside from the occasional twitch or slight shifting of the legs.
Abruptly the ditzy demoness sprung at the scythe, aiming to bodily tackle the thing to the ground. Despite her childlike appearance, Luche had enough muscle to give her some decent weight. First, though, she had to grab the darn thing.
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Post by 0 on Sept 24, 2017 23:12:21 GMT
The scythe was still. So was the stranger (after all the flailing). Was the odd goathumanthing trying to be a scythe, too?
The staredown continued.
And then, before the object even had a chance to react, the beast had sprung forward, swiping the harvesting implement off of its perch and to the ground. The floating pyramid flew with it, although it resisted coming into contact with anything, and it spun faster, singing shrilly as the object began to futilely flail its short limbs around.
It didn't take much pressure at all to hold the scythe down, and it didn't seem to know just how to orient itself now that it was horizontal. Arms, legs, and tail went everywhere, not even directing themselves at the beast that now held it, the various limbs spraying inky drops in their flurried motions. The scythe's blade had smashed into the floor, metal glinting wickedly in the light of the fire, but it didn't even cross the object's mind that it might try to defend itself with the sharpened edge of its head.
Instead, recognizing that some manner of hands were on it, the shaft began to bend, creaking, as it tried to wriggle its way out from between the fingers like a slippery weasel; ink began to pour down from where staff met blade, further slicking down the wood to help it in this endeavor.
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Post by Tzuvachyysh on Sept 25, 2017 15:38:26 GMT
Luche clung to the slippery stick as though her life depended upon it, squealing with a mixture of terror and delight. She had it, but now it was squirming to get away, all the while oozing some weird black stuff that made it even more slick.
Had she the mind for such thoughts, it may have occurred to her that, to some, the situation could be seen as rather... lewd.
The ditzy devil tried using her legs to pin the implement down, but her goatish lower limbs were useless for grappling. She tried snuggling it, but it was like trying to hug a panicking octopus -- not that she knew what those were, but it was like that. So she tried grabbing the top of it, without even thinking.
Sudden pain caused her to jerk away, tears welling up in her eyes. Yellow-hot blood flowed out like melted wax and solidified where she had been cut, covering the injury almost instantly, as well as smearing on the scythe head. But the pain... that didn't die down so quickly.
It started as a whimper, but swiftly grew into a full-on bawling. Perhaps the most bizarre part was that Luche was completely incapacitated by the tiny cuts on her fingers, gripping the afflicted palm like it had been cut off -- rather than merely lightly sliced -- and rocking back and forth on her butt, where she'd landed after letting go of the now-inky implement. She tried to say something, but it just became a mess of mumbled daemonic, whimpers, sobs, and sniffles.
Luche didn't know what to make of the feeling she felt, but it was like the wet dribbly stuff from the high, high roof; she hated it, and wanted it to stop. Unlike those, however, this didn't stop when she pulled away. That just confused her even more.
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Post by 0 on Sept 25, 2017 20:26:39 GMT
The scythe finally managed to slip free-- or, at least, the humangoat let go of it. Drenched in ink, the object flung itself back atop the pile of pelts, drawing itself close to the wall they sat against. Its pyramid calmed down, though under its usual hum was something like a baritone hiss.
The scythe's shaft still writhed where it sat, arms and legs working in a flurry to get the yellow-hot blood off of its metal. It stung! Its blade was flung all over the place, clinking and scratching heard as it hit against the surrounding stone, and at least some of the blood was able to be removed before it hardened.
It finally began to calm down after this, although its [lack of] ears were met by raucous bawling. It didn't know what to make of that, and so, keeping a close watch on the demon, it rubbed a palm across its blade. There was a good dent in the metal now, ragged-edged with blackened burn marks, and the hardened brown crust of what remained of the demon's blood. The scythe would have whimpered itself if it only knew how.
What human would take it in now? Its blade was ruined! RUINED!
Now it would never be able to harvest grains like any regular old scythe....
Still dripping ink (and staining the pelts black), the scythe flopped down in its corner, its emotions somewhere between depressed and pissed. The tail lashed in agitation behind it, and it remained tense should the demon make another move for it.
Thankfully it seemed too busy wailing over itself.
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Post by Tzuvachyysh on Sept 26, 2017 0:23:46 GMT
The firelight shrunk as Luche's wailing turned to whimpers, pain subsiding with passing time. Maybe half an hour passed as the simple demoness retreated, but in time even her unobservant self noticed the flames dying.
Being careful not to get too excited, she carefully crafted a small fireball, then rolled it into the firewood pile again. It sputtered as some unused wood caught, but not as magnificently as it had before. Only now did Luche look around, taking in the current state of the living space.
Ink was everywhere; including on her front, though the crisped remains blended into her skin tone. The pile of furs that sticky stick had been on was drenched, several of them having also gotten burned sometime during the struggle. The nice lady was going to be furious, but Luche wasn't sure what to do about that aside from trying to hide the burned ones and flipping those that were really slick, like a child trying to hide that they spilt paint.
She didn't dare stand up; every time she did seemed to end in her tripping on something. It was awkward, crawling on all fours, but she managed. That just left... the sticky stick.
She inched closer, until there was about a foot between them. Then Luche sat down, hugging her knees as she reinstated the staring contest.
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Post by 0 on Sept 26, 2017 0:32:48 GMT
The scythe pulled its limbs close, watching as the goathuman eventually got over whatever was happening, rolled a flaming ball into the dying fire, then started crawling around, flipping objects over, or covering them with other objects. It couldn't begin to produce some line of reasoning for the beast's actions.
The ink had finally begun to run out, as it was no longer being produced since it was no longer panicking. It was a little hard to tell, though, seeing as how its staff was already black wood, and parts of its body (most notably its limbs and tail) liked to constantly drip a little ink here and there.
The beast was drawing nearer; the scythe pulled itself upright, staff bent a little as it curved against the shelter's ceiling from atop the drenched pile of pelts. Although it sat down, the scythe did not do likewise, and instead remained standing, staring back. It didn't realize it, but one arm was raised, a finger tracing the melted part of its blade's edge.
After only a short while the scythe finally lost its nerve. It hopped off the pelts and tried to bolt for the storming outside.
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Loner, Kazetatsu, Kaze
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Post by Loner。 on Sept 26, 2017 1:52:05 GMT
Bolt right towards an oncoming izune, the yokai hunched over, with a clearly dead carcass heavier than she draped across her back.
She didn't get out of the way, so if the scythe didn't evade her, there would be a collision.
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