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 Posted: Fri Jun 23, 2017 7:18 pm
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kuropeco rolled 2 10-sided dice:
3, 1
Total: 4 (2-20)
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Posted: Fri Jun 23, 2017 7:20 pm
HP: 56 / 60
DMG: 0
BOSS HP: 30 / 30
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kuropeco rolled 2 10-sided dice:
3, 3
Total: 6 (2-20)
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Posted: Fri Jun 23, 2017 7:21 pm
HP: 52 / 60
DMG: 0
BOSS HP: 30 / 30
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kuropeco rolled 2 10-sided dice:
9, 10
Total: 19 (2-20)
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Posted: Fri Jun 23, 2017 7:22 pm
HP: 52 / 60 *this is a bonus reroll
DMG: 19 - 6 = 13 + 3 = 16
BOSS HP: 14 / 30
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kuropeco rolled 2 10-sided dice:
3, 7
Total: 10 (2-20)
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Posted: Fri Jun 23, 2017 7:23 pm
HP: 48 / 60
DMG: 10 - 6 = 4 + 3 = 7
BOSS HP: 7 / 30
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kuropeco rolled 2 10-sided dice:
7, 3
Total: 10 (2-20)
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Posted: Fri Jun 23, 2017 7:24 pm
HP: 44 / 60
DMG: 10 - 6 = 4 + 3 = 7
BOSS HP: dead
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Posted: Sun Jun 25, 2017 11:14 pm
Sometimes, when Chance was younger, he'd wished for another version of himself.
Not for any selfish reasons. Not because he'd been doing anything of worth that would have required more than one of himself. Not because he'd thought so highly of himself that he thought the world could use a second Chance Victor Bones to deal with when the first was honestly quite enough.
No, he'd wanted a second version of himself to put in place of himself. To have someone or something else take his place so that he wouldn't have to deal with his mother, or with her many boyfriends, or the cigarettes against his skin, burning holes through the fabric of his shirt. He'd wanted someone else, so that he wouldn't have to think about anything except himself, so that he wouldn't have to constantly be wondering what it was he'd done wrong to deserve this.
This was not what he had meant. Not at all.
"Asher," said Chance, as he strung the bow, swinging it around so that it faced the other - Issos, he had called himself - the icy sheen of his weapon a familiar gleam at the corner of his eyes. The darkened, hooded gaze of his counterpart was calm; unsurprising, if it was meant to be a mirror image of himself, except as a Horseman. Chance was almost universally calm, except when it came to certain situations.
But it wasn't him, not really.
{ - yes, I am here - }
He could hear his weapon's soft voice as though they stood beside him, Chance tugging at the wire of the bow, pulling it back with a jerk as Issos swayed in front of him. Some sort of curved blade appeared from beneath the black and blue folds of his clothing; a sickle shaped sword, which glinted of some dark metal, Chance's gaze naturally drawn to it even as he loosed the arrow.
He managed a clean snap, but the other's blade had already slashed towards Chance's midsection, cutting a thin line across his chest. Chance let out a noise of irritation and sidestepped the next blow, hastily notching another arrow, hearing his own heartbeat crowding in his chest.
{ - are you unwell - }
No. Just...
{ - just...? - }
It's weird.
{ - it's extremely odd, that I will concede to - }
It wasn't really the oddest thing that Chance had ever seen, but it was up there. And he remembered only too well the red eye virus; how it had overtaken Otto on the beach, fingers wrapped around Chance's neck, squeezing harder and harder until the blackness had begun to encroach on Chance's vision and he had thought that it was the last thing he would see.
Red red red.
Too much red.
This isn't that. This isn't the same.
This isn't me.
{ - I would agree; there is only one of you that I wish to be partners with - } said Asher, and Chance felt the corners of his lips quirk up into a smile that mirrored what he could remember of Asher's golem appearance; something quiet and calm.
Issos was seething, swearing, losing his composure more so than Chance ever had. He strung another arrow, ignoring the pains in his side and his head and his arm even as he pulled the wire back, his gaze intent, his breath leaving him in a small sigh.
He had someone to get back to. He had someone he had to see again.
"Sorry we couldn't stay and chat," said Chance amicably, because Issos was not going to be around much longer, and this was not his childhood. This was not a childish whim to want to substitute another for himself; he had a life now, a good life. Deus had issues, of course, and there was a crazy amount of danger every single day. But it was a life that Chance had chosen for himself.
And besides, he liked it. And he had Otto.
"Bye, now," said Chance, and loosed the arrow.
It struck Issos square in the chest, and for a moment he swayed unsteadily, eyes widening comically, his lips parting in an exaggerated expression that Chance had never seen before on a face identical to his own. There was a split second in which their gaze met, connected -
- and then Issos had dropped, crumpled motionless in a heap on the ground, and that was that. Chance straightened, rolling his neck, taking a breath.
"Glad that's over with."
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