Snowman
@blackestQuasar
what are you waiting for?
On a personal note. I would be curious to know what, if any, milleners exist on this website. I am in need of a hat without the number eight on it. Even if I'll be keeping my epithet.
Wese knôw a feŁŁa ôr twô. MôstŁy deaŁ in bŁack beanies, but ôur feŁŁa makes a mean triŁby when theyse reaŁŁy wants ta.
I am more in the market for a structured sun hat. Felt is, ironically, still preferred. Perhaps something I could put a pin in.
Except Seven. But he's not the topic of discussion right now.
It's always men in my life, giving me trouble
Hmmm. I ought to make my account a little more distinct. Perhaps a new profile picture is in order.
Sorry, English. You are decidedly *not* invited to my little get-together.
Whaatt? The big bastard that calls you a bitch all the time isn't invited to your little party???? No way.........
Hmmmm. I'm considering hosting a small party to celebrate my return to Midnight City. For those present or able to visit, by invitation. Make your interest known if you have it, but I intend to be selective.
Ah. Blissful mundanity. And the blessed joy of not having to ration my smokes. ...But I'm still working on getting that number down. Once a day is far superior to the numbers I was hitting before .
imagine having a limited number of anything nak nak couldnt be me
[An image is posted. Snowman sits on one of Yaldabaoth's coils. The lens-flare of its brilliant visage obscures a decent chunk of the image. She seems to be wearing a modified version of a Thief of Time's godtier robes. In her hands, she holds the clock-pendulum she stabbed Caliborn with.] I can't quite decide if I like this garish attire. Perhaps a few more modifications could be made. I do know an excellent tailor. But first, I really should head home.
Oh, getting back will be so much easier than getting here in the first place.
Wasn't that exciting? I hope you all enjoyed the show. I'm going to go collect on my end of the bargain, now.
[A video is posted. Caliborn stands over Snowman as she lies, bleeding, in the dirt. Once again, his crowbar glistens with blood as much as his teeth glint with triumph. "ALL REALITIES. EVERY TIMELINE. COLLAPSES DOWN TO THIS." Snowman glares. "YOU WILL ALWAYS BREAK BEFORE I DO. HAA. HAA." She draws and fires a pistol into his gut. He doesn't even flinch. "I ADMIRE YOUR PERSISTENCE, MY GOOD BITCH. BUT YOU WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO MATCH UP TO ME. WHAT YOU HAVE YOU HAVE BECAUSE I HAVE ALLOWED IT." In a marvel of expectoratory strength. She spits in his face. "WILL YOU. *PLEASE* JUST LET ME FINISH SO I CAN KILL YOU OH MY GOD. AS I WAS SAYING. YOU ARE NOTHING. IN THE FACE OF MY INEVITABILITY. HEE HEE." He kicks her with his cybernetic leg. With her good arm, she wrenches at it, trying to pry it off. He rolls his eyes. "BECAUSE I AM A GRACIOUS LORD. I WILL NOW PERMIT YOU TO SPEAK, FETID BITCH-QUEEN THE THIRD. SAY YOUR LAST WORDS. SO I CAN FORGET-" Caliborn's gloating is cut off by the pendulum of a certain juju-clock piercing through his chest, just left of center. And then a lance piercing through the other side. He falls, and a second Snowman helps the first up. His body flickers and flashes. The video ends in a glitch-flicker of static as he detonates.]
THIS IS IMPRESSIVE. MORE THAN MANY WILL GIVE YOU CREDIT FOR. KUDOS. IS THE AGREED-UPON TERM. I THINK. HE IS CORRECT. IT WILL BE INTERESTING. IF YOU PROVE HIM WRONG ANYWAY. GOOD LUCK.
It has been an adventure. One I am thoroughly sick of, but perhaps that is the point of such things. And I shall certainly do my best.
[A video is posted. Snowman's pitched battle with an unkillable Lordling continues. She and her alternates weave through the morass, striking and evading. Nevertheless, galaxy-blue blood drips from slowly accumulating wounds. A leaking head-wound. A gash along her ribs. Numerous bite-marks. CAMERASPRITE's vision flickers. Her left arm dangles limply, a bullet having torn through something important to its operation. The video ends.]
[A video is posted. Caliborn stares down the barrel of the camera. He seems to be holding a quivering CAMERASPRITE by the proverbial, if not literal, throat. He is dressed in his godtier attire. With his free thumb, he flicks an "8" pin out of a doll. Reality blurs. At first nothing seems different, until Caliborn laughs and tosses CAMERASPRITE aside. As it falls, it turns to follow Caliborn's gaze. His glassy red eyes are locked in hateful glee with Snowman's. She is sitting on a boulder, smoking casually. In an instant, time distorts. Caliborn has charged forward at impossible speeds, impaling himself on her lance. An alternate Caliborn duels with a future-past Snowman, crowbar clanging harshly off her lance, wielded with the finesse of a rapier. An egg timer rings. Two more Caliborns, similarly dressed, emerge from a suddenly-present oven grinning. The video ends.]
Now then. One last disappearing act.
Ah, my apologies. A mild correction. Thirteen planets. There were those lost to the black hole initially. Anyway, one final show remains.
Fifteen planets. But they have been handled. Including a polite parlay with my alternate. She seemed nothing but happy that I went ahead and murdered the only threat to her rule and dismantled his session from the bottom up. I imagine she'll slowly conquer the rest of the leprechaun settlements in due time. I wish her luck and joy in her conquest. Maybe she'll finally pry the secrets from their thinkpans.
Of course not. Why, void beyond, would I do that?
Hah. If I wanted to do you any favors, worm, I would have considered staying. Not whatever inane fancy you are currently chasing.
You can't afford me.
Hardly worth it. Do you think I'm an idiot?
Cherub blood tastes terrible, by the way.
Suffice to say I have stopped speaking with the leprechaun settlements on these planets. A planet of Biscuits/Eggs is not a world fit for even Him. I've already seen more of them than would ever be desirable.
Timers are short these nights. Suffice to say, I am getting sick of murdering the same, extremely persistent idiot. Something something, dramatic parallels. Just a little longer. Don't go insane without me.
Hah. Hahahaha. I will take what I want from your alternates, and you will seethe and watch. And I will never be yours.
I've got to go. There's a planet thirteen ticking-ticking down. And a lordling to murder for the... Oh, I've lost count. We'll say it's the eighth time.
Seven planets taken care of, and he's finally back. Perhaps this one's sought advice from someone actually reasonable. On the other hand, talking to a group of men with actual brains was refreshing. And, well, there is still only one of him. No matter how aware he is of my timeline, how lucky, or how quick. And I am still better.
I cannot wait to get back to my miserable, constantly rainy, wind-howling, debaucherous, constantly loud city. It was perfect.