RE: The Grand OC SII: The Re-OCening: Week 26: SANGUINE!
06-21-2017, 07:24 AM
Username: two
Name: Orok
Species: Biomechanical construct
Gender: Irrelevant
Color: The need for blood does not stop
Description: An articulated statue of a saintess in brass, porcelain, and gilt, clicking ratcheting joints segmenting cunningly wrought limbs. Behold the sculpted fingers delicate enough to clasp eggshells, a face a white mask of beatific peace, the tick and click of sanctified clockwork motors hidden beneath the drape of red silk robes edged with yellow gold. Behold the manifold metal calipers that serve as its legs, propelling it smoothly in all directions as if gliding. Behold also the discreet needles on jointed armatures that unfold from beneath its robes, linked by tubes to the complex array of glass vials and bulbs the saintess wears about her navel like a crystalline womb, treated painstakingly with anti-coagulant agents and antibiotic brews.
This is no heartless automaton. Mainly because there’s a heart in there. There’s also a brain and a spine (because miracles require a central nervous system to perform), at least four eyes, one book lung, two livers, and three kidneys.
Give it your blood. It’s in safe hands.
Biography: Blood is your lifeblood. You need it to live. The Church of Ydanius needs it too.
See, Ydanius is a valorous sort of god. He fights on behalf of humanity against the beasts of the Outer Night. With his sword and his bow, he protects the world from those who would predate on the tiny things that live on it, the nightmare legions from between the stars to whom humanity is but a candle to be snuffed out.
Ydanius has fought for humanity since the dawn of time. He is fighting now. He will never stop.
Ydanius is a mighty warrior, but the beasts he fights are mighty too. Ydanius bleeds from a hundred wounds, and every day he takes a hundred more. It’s fine, though. Ydanius doesn’t mind.
But every drop of blood Ydanius sheds makes him weaker. Every scratch he bears is a curse. The beasts of Outer Night cannot prevail against him in a single, mighty battle, but they hope to kill him by degrees, to bleed him dry and then step over his pale corpse to eat the world.
Ydanius needs blood. Ydanius needs your blood. The Church of Ydanius exists to gather blood for him, to restore the strength he loses daily. It’s a reverse transubstantiation, only without the wine.
The Church, of course, has all manner of bloodletting rituals. But as of late, church attendance has been going down. The priests blame all manner of factors -- the youth these days, the commercialization of worship, etcetera. The technicians offer solutions.
Enter Orok and its ilk.
To call them traveling vending machines would be disrespectful, but not too far off the mark. Have a cavity that’s troubling you? Want to do well on your exams tomorrow? Hoping to get that job you’re angling for? Go to the Offerants. You tell the Offerant your desire, you offer the Offerant your blood, and the Offerant uses a proportion of that blood to perform a minor miracle on your behalf. It’s blood magic and blood money in one handy package. The remainder, the Offerant takes to the banks for the priests to use in their rites.
Orok is one such Offerant. It’s seen three years of operation and four service upgrades to its underlying technobiomancy. In that time, it has drawn blood 10,063 times and collected roughly 750 gallons of the stuff. Its roster of performed miracles includes restoring hearing, curing colds, removing tattoos, and in one case smiting a small termite infestation with unerring small-scale divine retribution. It is programmed to help, and to be calm and deferential.
Ydanius needs blood. Please give some to Orok.
Name: Orok
Species: Biomechanical construct
Gender: Irrelevant
Color: The need for blood does not stop
Description: An articulated statue of a saintess in brass, porcelain, and gilt, clicking ratcheting joints segmenting cunningly wrought limbs. Behold the sculpted fingers delicate enough to clasp eggshells, a face a white mask of beatific peace, the tick and click of sanctified clockwork motors hidden beneath the drape of red silk robes edged with yellow gold. Behold the manifold metal calipers that serve as its legs, propelling it smoothly in all directions as if gliding. Behold also the discreet needles on jointed armatures that unfold from beneath its robes, linked by tubes to the complex array of glass vials and bulbs the saintess wears about her navel like a crystalline womb, treated painstakingly with anti-coagulant agents and antibiotic brews.
This is no heartless automaton. Mainly because there’s a heart in there. There’s also a brain and a spine (because miracles require a central nervous system to perform), at least four eyes, one book lung, two livers, and three kidneys.
Give it your blood. It’s in safe hands.
Biography: Blood is your lifeblood. You need it to live. The Church of Ydanius needs it too.
See, Ydanius is a valorous sort of god. He fights on behalf of humanity against the beasts of the Outer Night. With his sword and his bow, he protects the world from those who would predate on the tiny things that live on it, the nightmare legions from between the stars to whom humanity is but a candle to be snuffed out.
Ydanius has fought for humanity since the dawn of time. He is fighting now. He will never stop.
Ydanius is a mighty warrior, but the beasts he fights are mighty too. Ydanius bleeds from a hundred wounds, and every day he takes a hundred more. It’s fine, though. Ydanius doesn’t mind.
But every drop of blood Ydanius sheds makes him weaker. Every scratch he bears is a curse. The beasts of Outer Night cannot prevail against him in a single, mighty battle, but they hope to kill him by degrees, to bleed him dry and then step over his pale corpse to eat the world.
Ydanius needs blood. Ydanius needs your blood. The Church of Ydanius exists to gather blood for him, to restore the strength he loses daily. It’s a reverse transubstantiation, only without the wine.
The Church, of course, has all manner of bloodletting rituals. But as of late, church attendance has been going down. The priests blame all manner of factors -- the youth these days, the commercialization of worship, etcetera. The technicians offer solutions.
Enter Orok and its ilk.
To call them traveling vending machines would be disrespectful, but not too far off the mark. Have a cavity that’s troubling you? Want to do well on your exams tomorrow? Hoping to get that job you’re angling for? Go to the Offerants. You tell the Offerant your desire, you offer the Offerant your blood, and the Offerant uses a proportion of that blood to perform a minor miracle on your behalf. It’s blood magic and blood money in one handy package. The remainder, the Offerant takes to the banks for the priests to use in their rites.
Orok is one such Offerant. It’s seen three years of operation and four service upgrades to its underlying technobiomancy. In that time, it has drawn blood 10,063 times and collected roughly 750 gallons of the stuff. Its roster of performed miracles includes restoring hearing, curing colds, removing tattoos, and in one case smiting a small termite infestation with unerring small-scale divine retribution. It is programmed to help, and to be calm and deferential.
Ydanius needs blood. Please give some to Orok.