RE: Godhood XIV - Usurper [Honey Edition Turn 3]
04-10-2013, 02:17 AM
(This post was last modified: 04-10-2013, 06:42 PM by Pharmacy.)
The God of Alcohol stared off to the horizons of the universe, lines of uncharacteristically intense thinking played across his obscured face. By Turn Three (whatever that was), the Gods of the universe had been divided into two separate places: one of the Atrium and one of Seriba. As far as he could tell, the division was natural in regards to the nature of some Gods.
However, as much as the division was natural, it was very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, verily, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, incredibly, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, positively, very, very, very, very, very, very, very so much boring. Too much personal! Not enough friendliness! This was not a good Party. So Bacardi decided to liven things up a little. Bacardi decided it was time to execute his plan.
His wonderful collaborative plan.
"I SUPPOSE THE STARS OF OTHER UNIVERSES HAD BEEN ALIGNED TO A PARTICULAR POSITION. THE SUBATOMIC PARTICLES COALESCING WITH A SUFFICIENT AMOUNT OF ENERGY, IMBUED WITH A GOOD AMOUNT OF CERTAINTY TO MAKE AN APPROXIMATE GUESS: THE TIME IS RIGHT. RELATIVE, NON-LINEAR, AND OTHERWISE. THE TIME IS RIGHT AND I'LL BE DAMNED IF I DID NOT STRIKE THIS VERY GODDAMN MOMENT."
In defiance to all conventional gravity and her sister electromagnetism, Bacardi took off to the void of the universe. He took a claw to the fabric of the space-time continuum letting the dimensions warp like metal to a flame. Radiation smoke from the abyss he tore into (their smell like bitter ozone and death). Smoke that mingled with the steam-torch of the Water-God. Reality found this wound to be grievous - attempting to close the wound in which the Brass-Beast had made. But Bacardi was an expert surgeon. Or a killer. He opened seams where they formed, broke what existence tried to mend. If Bacardi's bedfellows saw into the hole he made - they would be horrified. What peeked back was nothing - not white nor spark nor shadow - nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Bacardi plunged his hands into the abyss. From nothing, he made something.
An ominous shadow creeped over the Atrium, causing the more cowardly Saraswati to flee away before the dark cast touched their hooves. The shadow spread to Seribia - causing the Ursine Beasts to howl. They howled because their instincts urge them to fear it. They howled because they wanted to scare the advancing shade away. They howled because they knew in their mediocre brains. They knew there was something up and oh there is something fucking up there.
It's a flying bar.
Well, more like a flying ship than a flying bar (not to be confused with flying bears, those are two completely different things), but still a bar nevertheless. The contraption was both parts terrifying and awe-inspiring - its architecture suggested some semblance of aerodynamics but mostly cannot decide whether it should go for steampunk or futurism. It was huge - humungous even. Giving it an actual length, width, and height would be ludicrously impossible for one, it was designed by a drunk person (cough cough) and drunk people (including Scientists) tend to not be good with variable, numerical and otherwise. Two, its not technically a ship at all but rather a new skin of reality, a new page of existence. In other words, it was what you would called a "plane." Well a "semi-plane." "Demi-plane?" Whatever.
You can go to the bar. After all, the bar is always open .However, if business is slow, hey what's wrong with spiriting away a bunch of people to the doors? Nothing wrong with a spot of drink. Oh ho ho. Accidental or intentional patrons will find the insides were as labyrinthine as intestines of a flayed animal - an increasingly complex maze of baroquely furbished rooms that seem to twist in every corner. It never seemed to run out of tables, lengths of counters, and drinks. And oh they had a lot of drinks, lists of every possible but incredible (not out of this world but OUT OF THIS REALITY) drinks of the multiverse gestalt. And why you should try their special. Their special is great, makes you open your mind to their secrets. The Bar is pretty transparent. They love secrets. It's not like they have nothing to hide...
Look up to the counters. Between a bottle of vodka and a bottle of whiskey. There is he, Bacardi Clear - immortal yet immortalized in a meticulous oil-painting portraits. The painting is nestled in a fairly ornate but fairly underwhelming frame that was painted to be antiquated. Oh sir or madam. That is Bacardi Clear, brave enough to show his face in these parts. God of Alcohol, Water, and Science and God bless him! You can trust him. You can trust his face. After all, he's got nothing to hide. Nothing to hide.
At all.
(-3) BiDO has been created! It is a sort of semi-plane that is built like a horrible threeway between a ferry island, a ship, and a goddamn nice bar. It can randomly transport objects (and animals and plants and things) between different places (that is Atrium and Seriba) - although that does not guarantee their safety (or lives) if they get accidentally transported to Not-Home.
(-1) Did I mention it has a really goddamn nice bar? Did I mention it has a really goddamn nice bar that never runs out of booze?
(-1) A special alcohol called "Water of InBREWnity" can be served within its bars. It gives the imbiber knowledge in brewmaking and other alcohol related stuff. Also it makes the imbiber shitfaced.
(-1) It has a semblance of intelligence and loyalty to Bacardi Clear within its abominable circuits. Therefore, it has an autopilot and an autobooze function so traveling is safe and the water never runs out (or FUNS out).
However, as much as the division was natural, it was very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, verily, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, incredibly, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, positively, very, very, very, very, very, very, very so much boring. Too much personal! Not enough friendliness! This was not a good Party. So Bacardi decided to liven things up a little. Bacardi decided it was time to execute his plan.
His wonderful collaborative plan.
"I SUPPOSE THE STARS OF OTHER UNIVERSES HAD BEEN ALIGNED TO A PARTICULAR POSITION. THE SUBATOMIC PARTICLES COALESCING WITH A SUFFICIENT AMOUNT OF ENERGY, IMBUED WITH A GOOD AMOUNT OF CERTAINTY TO MAKE AN APPROXIMATE GUESS: THE TIME IS RIGHT. RELATIVE, NON-LINEAR, AND OTHERWISE. THE TIME IS RIGHT AND I'LL BE DAMNED IF I DID NOT STRIKE THIS VERY GODDAMN MOMENT."
In defiance to all conventional gravity and her sister electromagnetism, Bacardi took off to the void of the universe. He took a claw to the fabric of the space-time continuum letting the dimensions warp like metal to a flame. Radiation smoke from the abyss he tore into (their smell like bitter ozone and death). Smoke that mingled with the steam-torch of the Water-God. Reality found this wound to be grievous - attempting to close the wound in which the Brass-Beast had made. But Bacardi was an expert surgeon. Or a killer. He opened seams where they formed, broke what existence tried to mend. If Bacardi's bedfellows saw into the hole he made - they would be horrified. What peeked back was nothing - not white nor spark nor shadow - nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Bacardi plunged his hands into the abyss. From nothing, he made something.
An ominous shadow creeped over the Atrium, causing the more cowardly Saraswati to flee away before the dark cast touched their hooves. The shadow spread to Seribia - causing the Ursine Beasts to howl. They howled because their instincts urge them to fear it. They howled because they wanted to scare the advancing shade away. They howled because they knew in their mediocre brains. They knew there was something up and oh there is something fucking up there.
It's a flying bar.
Well, more like a flying ship than a flying bar (not to be confused with flying bears, those are two completely different things), but still a bar nevertheless. The contraption was both parts terrifying and awe-inspiring - its architecture suggested some semblance of aerodynamics but mostly cannot decide whether it should go for steampunk or futurism. It was huge - humungous even. Giving it an actual length, width, and height would be ludicrously impossible for one, it was designed by a drunk person (cough cough) and drunk people (including Scientists) tend to not be good with variable, numerical and otherwise. Two, its not technically a ship at all but rather a new skin of reality, a new page of existence. In other words, it was what you would called a "plane." Well a "semi-plane." "Demi-plane?" Whatever.
You can go to the bar. After all, the bar is always open .However, if business is slow, hey what's wrong with spiriting away a bunch of people to the doors? Nothing wrong with a spot of drink. Oh ho ho. Accidental or intentional patrons will find the insides were as labyrinthine as intestines of a flayed animal - an increasingly complex maze of baroquely furbished rooms that seem to twist in every corner. It never seemed to run out of tables, lengths of counters, and drinks. And oh they had a lot of drinks, lists of every possible but incredible (not out of this world but OUT OF THIS REALITY) drinks of the multiverse gestalt. And why you should try their special. Their special is great, makes you open your mind to their secrets. The Bar is pretty transparent. They love secrets. It's not like they have nothing to hide...
Look up to the counters. Between a bottle of vodka and a bottle of whiskey. There is he, Bacardi Clear - immortal yet immortalized in a meticulous oil-painting portraits. The painting is nestled in a fairly ornate but fairly underwhelming frame that was painted to be antiquated. Oh sir or madam. That is Bacardi Clear, brave enough to show his face in these parts. God of Alcohol, Water, and Science and God bless him! You can trust him. You can trust his face. After all, he's got nothing to hide. Nothing to hide.
At all.
(-3) BiDO has been created! It is a sort of semi-plane that is built like a horrible threeway between a ferry island, a ship, and a goddamn nice bar. It can randomly transport objects (and animals and plants and things) between different places (that is Atrium and Seriba) - although that does not guarantee their safety (or lives) if they get accidentally transported to Not-Home.
(-1) Did I mention it has a really goddamn nice bar? Did I mention it has a really goddamn nice bar that never runs out of booze?
(-1) A special alcohol called "Water of InBREWnity" can be served within its bars. It gives the imbiber knowledge in brewmaking and other alcohol related stuff. Also it makes the imbiber shitfaced.
(-1) It has a semblance of intelligence and loyalty to Bacardi Clear within its abominable circuits. Therefore, it has an autopilot and an autobooze function so traveling is safe and the water never runs out (or FUNS out).