Destroy the Big Bad

Remember Destroy the Godmodder? If not, Google it, please.
Well, this is kind of like that. I have a thread on Omegaupdate already, so why not have two?!
You basically have to kill the Big Bad any way possible.

RULES:
1) You can charge a post (for example, make three posts and then release your attack) to make it stronger.
2) You can also do several attacks per post, but they won't do as much damage.
3) Don't expect anything. This is random crap.
4) Everybody has one Last Resort point for an awesomely powerful summon/attack or something else, use it wisely.

Big Bad
100/100 HP

edit: helphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelp

I lay myself prostrate before the big bad and beg to join his lackeys. Because who wants to play on the good team, when you can be evil? Not me, for sure.

I use Kieros as a shitty flail until I'm wielding nothing but vague meat paste

I cast magic missile

I want to be a rock, in memory of another rock.

Charge: 1/??

I lay myself prostrate before the big bad and beg to join his lackeys. Because who wants to play on the good team, when you can be evil? Not me, for sure.

You don't seem to be adequated with the original version, Destroy the Godmodder. If you were, you would know that the Big Bad does not need "lackeys". There's no need to be edgy, this is a battle of life and death. He blasts you into oblivion and back.

I use Kieros as a shitty flail until I'm wielding nothing but vague meat paste

That's definitely bizzare, and I don't understand jack sh!t, but... okay?

I cast magic missile

Yes, finally, an attack! The magic missile lands in the Big Bad's crotch. Youch.

I want to be a rock, in memory of another rock.

Charge: 1/??

This place sure is weird.

Big Bad
99/100 HP

Maintain rock status, gather energies from the earth around me. Feel the experiences of the loam, the plants and animals it once was. Picture clearly a large rock, blasted with wind and water over thousands of thousands of years, pieces breaking off of it and experiencing the same process. Feel the little piece of moss growing on my face. Charge.

Charge: 2/??

Maintain rock status, gather energies from the earth around me. Feel the experiences of the loam, the plants and animals it once was. Picture clearly a large rock, blasted with wind and water over thousands of thousands of years, pieces breaking off of it and experiencing the same process. Feel the little piece of moss growing on my face. Charge.

Charge: 2/??

That's... pretty deep, I guess. Good luck on your attack.

I hurl insults at Big Bad, calling him a "goodey-two-shoes" and "not-so bad"

I hurl insults at Big Bad, calling him a "goodey-two-shoes" and "not-so bad"

Woah, harsh! The Big Bad is really offended.

Big Bad
99/100 HP
9/100 Sorrow-Meter

I spend some time in an animal shelter, watching abandoned pets take their final breaths not for any fault of their own, but because their existence was not convient.

Charge 1.

I'll play canasta.

I spend some time in an animal shelter, watching abandoned pets take their final breaths not for any fault of their own, but because their existence was not convient.

Charge 1.

What the fuck. This forum sure is weird, but you do you.

I'll play canasta.

You need three other people. Actually, make that two. I'm playing as well. I'm gonna go ask the Big Bad if he wants to play too, but he'll probably cheat.
Anyone up for a game of canasta?

"Wow, other people who know what canasta is!" is what the rock would say, if it had any power to do so. Unfortunately, it was still gathering strength.

Charge: 3/??

Okay so I have a question about your egg count. It says two, but there are clearly three in your avatar alone??? Eggs???? is what the rock would say, but it didn't know this meta data and instead charged.

Charge: 3 + 1/2 / ??

SpoilerShow

What the fuck. This forum sure is weird, but you do you.

You roll with the punches! I'm glad to see you here!

I sit next to an old man at a bench. He was a master violinist, but now his fingers are swollen and arthritic. His joints burn at the thought of moving them and yet he longs to play. I hand him a violin. He plays, tears streaming down his cheeks. The pain turns the notes sour. It will never sound beautiful again.

Charge 2.

"Wow, other people who know what canasta is!" is what the rock would say, if it had any power to do so. Unfortunately, it was still gathering strength.

Charge: 3/??

Okay. At least you're doing something normal.

SpoilerShow

What the fuck. This forum sure is weird, but you do you.

You roll with the punches! I'm glad to see you here!

I sit next to an old man at a bench. He was a master violinist, but now his fingers are swollen and arthritic. His joints burn at the thought of moving them and yet he longs to play. I hand him a violin. He plays, tears streaming down his cheeks. The pain turns the notes sour. It will never sound beautiful again.

Charge 2.

For fuck's sake! This is one sick place.

Okay so I have a question about your egg count. It says two, but there are clearly three in your avatar alone??? Eggs???? is what the rock would say, but it didn't know this meta data and instead charged.

Charge: 3 + 1/2 / ??

The one in the background is secretly not an egg.

cast magic missile 99 times

Rock. Rock. Rock. Rock. Rock. Rock. Rock. Rock.

Charge: 4 / ??

I walk into a garden to gather some fruit. I have to climb a rusted fence. A painted swing hangs neglected from a tree. Vines now tether it to the ground. The ground here is fertile, but the gardener was not. The swing was never used, the garden long abandoned. With no one left to tend it, the fruit has grown sour and rotten. I place the mush into a basket and leave.

Charge 3.

I found myself wheeled down a hallway at a blinding speed, bare murmurs and misdirected jargon the only sounds surrounding me. Countless glaring lights burn at my corneas with an acrid, stinging pain, and the polished linoleum floors only serve to reflect the dizzying knives of stabbing lightning towards my receptors - the incessant grinding and squeaking of the gurney's rubber-tire wheels against the ground drills its maniacal, irregular rhythm into my worn head, my injured skull. Assembling enough motivation to distract this poor overwhelmed mind from the constant, unerring assault, I begrudgingly pulled open my eyes fully - with a conscious effort - to find already that whatever remained of that twisted noise and burning light was now departed, replaced by a calm but deadening darkness - night's silent caress. As I adapted to the utter pitch permeating all self, all thought, a surface began to bring itself forth from the blotched backdrop of those visual recesses. It was a semi-reflective board-like being, onyx, sapphire, obsidian - soundless as the lull of the dreamer's world. This meditation, however, was ethereal - at the same slithering pace that transient brooding-place of the mind surfaced out of the dark waters, the steadily climbing sun followed, harsh and burdened with the truths known and lies taken instead - immediately, all past thoughts of introspection and brooding were obliterated against this stunning, monstrous beast. Only then did I realize that all this patient observation had been in absolute absence of sound, and at this revelation the auditory senses strained for some morsel, equal to the beauty of the unborn year through which the ritual of rise and fall strenuously took place, and was met by the shrill note of birdsong. Some early avian fellow, I could only guess - red, speckled, lined with ruffled feathers as if dipped in ink and dried hastily overnight - was lightly hopping across an olive branch across the now visible glass panes, intently staring in a demonstration of scientific studiousness, ceaselessly sprinkling the background of nature with its own melodious composition, before, too, departing in search of some more receptive audience. Pleased with this personal orchestra of sight and sound, the brain retreated into its personal slumber as the internal day peeled away its rosy tints to the darker hues of night, passing again the rapid-flowing white-waters of narrow rock straits. But yet my eye noted a strange, blaring apparition contrasting rudely against the peacefully set curtain of darkness, interrupting the placidity of the illusion, hardening into place above the mask of drowsy consciousness, shattering and splintering the now-fading utopia, revealed as only delusion and falsehood... Was this spirit a fragment of a life past, lived partially, it was not known - only that its figure presented a most frustrating obstacle in the way of blissful rest - and moved its fingered appendage up - forward, in a gesture of greeting and voiced a foreign and repulsive tongue, to the sweet song of the birds.

Change 1.

Still a Rock.

Charge: 5 / ??

cast magic missile 99 times

*Sigh*
You guys don't read the rules, do you?!
The missiles do zero damage, because you cast 99 of them.
Good job

Rock. Rock. Rock. Rock. Rock. Rock. Rock. Rock.

Charge: 4 / ??

Okay, go and fucking rock out.

I walk into a garden to gather some fruit. I have to climb a rusted fence. A painted swing hangs neglected from a tree. Vines now tether it to the ground. The ground here is fertile, but the gardener was not. The swing was never used, the garden long abandoned. With no one left to tend it, the fruit has grown sour and rotten. I place the mush into a basket and leave.

Charge 3.

helpmehelpmehelpmehelpmehelpmehelpmehelpmehelpme

I found myself wheeled down a hallway at a blinding speed, bare murmurs and misdirected jargon the only sounds surrounding me. Countless glaring lights burn at my corneas with an acrid, stinging pain, and the polished linoleum floors only serve to reflect the dizzying knives of stabbing lightning towards my receptors - the incessant grinding and squeaking of the gurney's rubber-tire wheels against the ground drills its maniacal, irregular rhythm into my worn head, my injured skull. Assembling enough motivation to distract this poor overwhelmed mind from the constant, unerring assault, I begrudgingly pulled open my eyes fully - with a conscious effort - to find already that whatever remained of that twisted noise and burning light was now departed, replaced by a calm but deadening darkness - night's silent caress. As I adapted to the utter pitch permeating all self, all thought, a surface began to bring itself forth from the blotched backdrop of those visual recesses. It was a semi-reflective board-like being, onyx, sapphire, obsidian - soundless as the lull of the dreamer's world. This meditation, however, was ethereal - at the same slithering pace that transient brooding-place of the mind surfaced out of the dark waters, the steadily climbing sun followed, harsh and burdened with the truths known and lies taken instead - immediately, all past thoughts of introspection and brooding were obliterated against this stunning, monstrous beast. Only then did I realize that all this patient observation had been in absolute absence of sound, and at this revelation the auditory senses strained for some morsel, equal to the beauty of the unborn year through which the ritual of rise and fall strenuously took place, and was met by the shrill note of birdsong. Some early avian fellow, I could only guess - red, speckled, lined with ruffled feathers as if dipped in ink and dried hastily overnight - was lightly hopping across an olive branch across the now visible glass panes, intently staring in a demonstration of scientific studiousness, ceaselessly sprinkling the background of nature with its own melodious composition, before, too, departing in search of some more receptive audience. Pleased with this personal orchestra of sight and sound, the brain retreated into its personal slumber as the internal day peeled away its rosy tints to the darker hues of night, passing again the rapid-flowing white-waters of narrow rock straits. But yet my eye noted a strange, blaring apparition contrasting rudely against the peacefully set curtain of darkness, interrupting the placidity of the illusion, hardening into place above the mask of drowsy consciousness, shattering and splintering the now-fading utopia, revealed as only delusion and falsehood... Was this spirit a fragment of a life past, lived partially, it was not known - only that its figure presented a most frustrating obstacle in the way of blissful rest - and moved its fingered appendage up - forward, in a gesture of greeting and voiced a foreign and repulsive tongue, to the sweet song of the birds.

Change 1.

I don't care which book you ripped that from, I'm not reading that shit.

Still a Rock.

Charge: 5 / ??

I can't fucking believe I'm saying this, but you're doing more than any of you other people. This place is mental.

This is turning into "how many posts does it take to drive trickle insane?"

Ah - the snow is falling.
What a great day, isn't it?
The snow, I see, is falling.

Again, the snow falls.
It's falling. This is a day.
Yet, the snow continues.

The snow pours downward.
Is something which fills the day
Really something special?

My thoughts are filled with snow.
An endless and cold numbness
Consumes this entire day.

Change 2.

SpoilerShow

Admittingly, I wrote the last entry - thanks for saying it's book-worthy!