TM: ...0k4y, 1`m g01ng t0 g0 m4k3 s0m3 c001 5#1t w1t# t#15 'Punch Designx' t#1ng.
TT: Okay. I`ll talk to you later, my house is kind of burning down right now.
TM: ...By3.
-tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering tragicMachination [TM]-
Tragic starts running around her house, grabbing stuff.
With her Sylladex full of stuff, she heads upstairs to start making awesome shit.
After the boring process of making all of sweet new shit, Tragic stands outside, looking at her house, which Rose has built upon.
Tragic holds her blade-staff in her hands, and gazes at the awesomeness of it with love in her golden eyes.
She runs her hands over the gears embedded in it with one hand, and holds tightly to the smooth metal grip in the middle with the other.
On one end of the staff is a foot-long blade, shining with a rainbow-y iridescence. On the other end is a hole, which takes up the entirety of the bottom. Tragic lifts the staff up to test it and see if it works.
Her fingers tighten around the metal grip, and by doing so, flames shoot out of the end of the staff.
She grins as she feels the heat of the fire, and then loosens her tight hold. The flames die, and once again she thanks her mother silently for having a flame thrower just laying around.
Tragic decides to test out her new weapon in combat, and enters her house, which is by now crawling with those disgusting Imps.
She dances through the house, performing a deadly tango with any Imp who stands in her way, collecting grist as they turn to oily puddles at her feet.
Tragic finally stops killing all of the Imps, and notices that she got a fucking shit-ton of grist for Rose.
She pulls out her CompuPhone (she made it with the Punch Designx) and pulls up Pesterchum.
-tragicMachination [TM] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]-
TM: ...R053, 1 h4v3 4 bunc# 0f gr15t f0r y0u.
TT: Okay, I`ll keep building up.
Suddenly the house starts shaking.
TT: Oh no. I have to hurry.
Rose starts frantically building up, Tragic having gathered so much grist that Rose had no problem with running out for the time being.
Finally, Rose is close, but she runs out of grist.
TT: Shit.
TT: Tragic, you`re going to need to go and kill the ogres on your roof.
TM: ...T#3 fuck y0u t41k1ng 4b0ut, R053?
TT: Just get onto your roof and kill the big monster.
TM: ...F1n3.
Tragic doesn`t even sign off, she just puts her phone back into her Sylladex and calls for Moosesprite.
He comes into the room a few moments later, and nods at her, before leaving again.
Tragic understands, and races up to the roof, using the stairs that Rose had made for her. When she gets onto the roof, she`s confronted by a huge Imp, which she guesses is the ogre that Rose mentioned.
She whips out her blade-staff, and glares up at the monster.
It roars at her, and charges.
Tragic shoots flames at the monster, and it roars again before grabbing her and slamming her into the ground.
The breath is knocked out of Tragic, and everything hurts, but the fire still erupts from the end of the staff.
She spins the staff around, and starts stabbing the shit out of the ogre`s hand.
With yet another roar, he drops her, and it`s call summons another ogre, this one bigger and angrier than the last.
Tragic sees Rose place a single, vertical, floating platform in the sky above, and an idea start to form.
She stands shakily, and wipes blood away from her nose. She hadn`t even realized it was bleeding, so it surprises her when her hand comes back red.
Moosesprite is beside her now, his presence both comforting and rejuvenating. She has renewed hope.
Tragic and Moosesprite run at the ogres, and Tragic stabs the bigger ogre in the foot.
He screams, and grabs her, sending her blade-staff flying away, coming to rest precariously on the edge of the house.
She doesn`t have time to worry about her weapon, as the ogre slams her into the ground repeatedly, leaving her bloodied and broken. He throws her limp, unresisting body to the side, and she stops next to her staff.
Tragic`s vision swims, and she swears she can hear voices in her head. Everything is blurry, and keeps flashing to black. She understands that she needs to get up, but she`s so tired, and her body is so heavy.
A war rages in her head, wake up or start dreaming? Stay in this broken, exhausted shell or go to a place where pain doesn`t even exist.
Her mind is made up before she even realizes that she made the decision.
Tragic forces herself to stand, and everything dances in front of her as she does. Her hands find her discarded staff, and she runs her fingers over the hard edges.
She sees Moosesprite fighting, and suddenly an inexplicable rage fills her.
Tragic raises her weapon, all pain having vanished, and runs at the ogres. She leaps into the air, getting enough of a jump to bury her staff into the chest of an ogre.
Moosesprite starts shooting it with his weird Sprite-y laser things,
Soon the ogre explodes into a fuckload of grist and other sweet loot.
Tragic ignores all of it, instead going straight for the other ogre. Moosesprite start shooting at it just as she launches herself into the air again and swings the blade end of her staff down with all of her strength.
It hits his head with a wet thunk, and embeds itself in his skull.
Tragic uses her momentum to swing around on the staff and end up sitting on the back of the ogre`s neck.
She pulls her weapon free, and starts to stab him over and over and over, getting covered in the oily substance of his blood.
The ogre is screaming in pain, but Tragic can`t hear anything over the blood rushing in her ears, and the fierceness of bloodlust sings through her veins, goading her on to keep stabbing this hideous beast.
But she has to get through the gate, and her idea is still in her head. She jumps to her feet on the ogre`s neck and looks up. She isn`t that far from the platform now.
She plants her staff in the ogre`s head, and starts swinging around it, gaining momentum.
Just when the ogre is about to fall, she launches herself off of the staff and to the platform, wincing as she hits it, but pushing off and towards the gate. She flies through the gate, joined a few moments later by her blade-staff, which Moosesprite threw after her into it.
Moosesprite floats amidst all of the goodies, staring up at the gate. He smiles sadly, but it fades quickly, replaced by worry and... fear?
Yes, worry for his dear Tragic, but fear for her as well.
He had seen the terrible blood thirst in her eyes, and knew that she was starting to change.
But it was all pre-destined, and he could do nothing to change the events that would take place because of who she was. Who she was always supposed to be.
He just wished it didn`t have to be this way.
As Moosesprite turned away, one thing was only clear to him: Tragic wasn`t called the Bane of Souls for nothing.