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 Posted: Fri Jun 23, 2017 6:44 pm
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kuropeco rolled 2 12-sided dice:
10, 11
Total: 21 (2-24)
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Posted: Fri Jun 23, 2017 6:54 pm
HP: 59 / 65
DMG: 21 - 6 = 15 + 2 = 17
BOSS HP: 43 / 60
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kuropeco rolled 2 12-sided dice:
10, 8
Total: 18 (2-24)
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Posted: Fri Jun 23, 2017 6:55 pm
HP: 53 / 65
DMG: 18 - 6 = 12 + 2 = 14
BOSS HP: 29 / 60
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kuropeco rolled 2 12-sided dice:
9, 6
Total: 15 (2-24)
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Posted: Fri Jun 23, 2017 6:56 pm
HP: 47 / 65
DMG: 15 - 6 = 9 + 2 = 11
BOSS HP: 18 / 60
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kuropeco rolled 9 4-sided dice:
4, 3, 2, 1, 3, 4, 4, 3, 2
Total: 26 (9-36)
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Posted: Fri Jun 23, 2017 6:58 pm
HP: 41 / 65
DMG: 26 - 4 = 22 + 2 = 24
BOSS HP: dead
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Posted: Sun Jun 25, 2017 10:42 pm
This is not real.
You are not real.
This version of himself was shorter, somehow, a fact that Gale found both irritating and frustrating all at the same time, as though his subconscious and the world were to blame for the distinct lack of height. It was making a mockery of things already long known; first, the distasteful and slowly dawning realization of a Horseman version of himself, and then the steady understanding that everything was twisted, like a funhouse mirror that openly taunted its reflections.
<< This is not ideal. >> said Jinhai, as though Gale hadn't already figured that out, but he appreciated the weapon's candor all the same. The other version of himself was looking just as annoyed, though with more vibrant hostility naked in his gaze, and as the bow swung viciously towards Gale, he leapt backwards, hissing as the serrated edge caught in the fabric of his shirt, tearing at the skin beneath.
Nothing about this is ideal, Gale thought back, and flipped the rifle around so that he was gripping it by the barrel; a stance that would have been ridiculous, or possibly insane had he not already done it dozens upon dozens of times before now. It made a passable bat when needed for close combat, and now was one of those times.
The end of the rifle slammed into the horseman's gut; he staggered back, spitting with irritation, and lunged again. Gale felt the bow snag on his shoulder this time, sharp and unrelenting, just another outright oddity in the already bizarre realization that he was essentially fighting against himself.
Or rather, "himself."
It was a strange concept. Gale still didn't quite understand, but he did know what was real and what wasn't, and this - he was real. He was Gale Gentry, fully specialized hunter of Deus Ex Machina, partnered to Jinhai, occupier of the world's smallest Death office that was more like a close than anything else.
He was right. The horseman was wrong.
Wrong wrong wrong wrong -
Gale took several hasty steps back and reoriented himself, flipping the rifle back to its intended position. The opposite him - name name name you are not me - had already dragged the bow up, notching an arrow with a swift expertise that spoke of years of experience and an almost uncanny resemblance of Gale.
He'd paused too long. The arrow struck Gale's leg and he staggered back, shouting in pain, but it had gone straight through and dissipated on the other side. Blood began to darken the fabric of his trouser leg, the fabric growing more and more damp, but Gale had already dropped down to one knee, rifle raised.
<< First shot. Eighty degrees west. >>
Jinhai's voice was a calm, cool reassurance in his thoughts. Gale felt the ricochet of the first bullet and repositioned himself, even as a secondary arrow cut across his upper left arm, leaving behind a sizable gash that made him hiss with pain.
<< Second shot. Three o'clock. >>
Another bullet. Another arrow. Gale heard the half strangled scream of agony as his shot cleared, followed by a roar of pain as the arrow caught just below the first gash, creating a second almost parallel on his left upper arm. He didn't have time to look at it.
<< Third shot. Noon. >>
The arrow skimmed his waist. Blood was dampening the shirt now, making it feel clammy and itchy against his skin, Gale's breathing a little ragged, but he could feel the familiar cold creeping up the barrel of the rifle now. His head was tilted a little against the chill metal, good eye focused through the telescopic lens, his other squinted shut.
He looks so much like me.
<< He is not you. >> It was a gentle reminder, but a firm one. Jinhai coiled in his head, sleek and scaly, the cold now radiating upwards over the entire rifle so that the weapon felt like an ice cube in Gale's gloved hands.
I know he isn't. But -
<< You are you. You are not him. He is not you. >>
But -
He felt the realness of it, of him. It ached, somewhere in his chest.
Jinhai's voice was quiet.
<< I know. Fire. >>
He fired.
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