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Jaded; A Short Story from Sordia
Topic Started: Aug 29 2010, 01:14 PM (200 Views)
Maverick
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"How many assholes we got on this ship anyhow?"
This is one of several stories I'm doing in a series told in first person from Floyd's perspective to Til'k, the Gcore. Floyd's adopted the Geneticore as his own son and wants him to know all about Sordia and some of the crazy shit he's been though. These stories have nothing to do with Til'k really, but are geared at 'paying for' the weaker logical moves that a Gcore would easily be able to perform.

The last story, The Elders Secret, was a prequel to this one, Floyd's first encounter with Jade. This story builds on Floyd's fear of the supernatural, adds a little more information as to the horror he saw on saw the mountain, and first establishes Jade as a key character in his life.

This story is after the following:

Gastro Acid
Scratch
Pound
Acid Armer
Metal Sound
Screech
Acid

I don't expect to earn all of these from this story, maybe only two or three since these are little more useful than the last set. But, like last time, Frac has an idea of how much these should each cost, so, be sure to ask him. Thanks.

Word Count: 4,770

Tales From Sordia: Jaded

Journeying into the haunted bowels of the northern mountain range had left my spirit broken, and my mind reeling. My dreams were a phantasmagoria of dark twisting shadows which snatched and grabbed in the night. At the slightest sound I might flinch or gasp aloud, visibly shaken with my two hearts racing to different beats. Morgan, my Godfather, kept an infuriatingly close watch on me thereafter. The Elder's Secret posed as great a threat to myself as it had once my dear departed friend Tur'lok.

Thank the gods my resolve was stronger than my courage. How I managed to keep that latent dread from my own drunken uttering's was nothing short of a miracle. Were it not for heavy drink, I might not have made it through those first embittering weeks. I found myself worrying, not over the life beyond death, but a life without death. Those wretched howling, degenerates; those putrescent mongrels whose minds were lost to madness and the assimilation over time into something more deadly than the species ever intended, all of them had gone insane with the centuries passing. My beliefs unraveled before me, and though I still visited the lodges where our greatest hunters gathered and told their tales, I remained reticent. Reclusively, I eschewed my age mates in their incessant rivalries. My mind was too filled with the unavoidable horror and my soul scarred.

Morgon could tell me little, for even though his esteemed position within the Empirical Army granted him access to the awful truth, the Elders would tell him little more than he was required to know. Soon enough, he had been assured, he too would join their ranks, and the clandestine nature of the epidemic revealed. I always felt as if there was still yet more to his wisdom that he could have shared but would not. He pitied me, and scolded my remote behavior. I had to snap out of it, if only for the sake of appearances. I was the son of Tuseh'n'kresah'rraj'k, after all, and my new found timidity of all things supernatural was downright cowardly and dishonorable.

I loathed my own deplorable state, but there was nothing I could do. Life in itself was ruined for me. My own magnificent race whom I had once thought of as the valiant champions of the galaxy in their fair exacting dominion over countless worlds, were actually the heart of the black death which even now lays dormant and chained on those damnable and distant alien ships. The only solace my esteemed Godfather could grant me was that while the missing link was our legacy, the sinister seed which now reaped lives untold in various quadrants of space was not our doing, but that of our erstwhile enemy, the Wrakution, long since driven from our beloved Sordia. How this came to be was a mystery even to him, or so he claimed, and so was of little consolation.

Still, the question continued to nag at my every thought. Madness now, or madness later? Tur'lok, not knowing the full truth, had chosen now. His body, not permitted to undergo a proper chrysalis as he continually fought off the change with drugs and sheer assiduity for over fifty years, had slowly crushed its own weakening organs until he'd died of severe internal bleeding at the age of two hundred and fifty three. This I had seen firsthand as I kept vigil by his bedside in his final hours. I would not go this path of cowardice, but I had to find some way to meet my fate head on, like a true Scavian.

All around me, I began to see the signs of the final change in our old ones. The swarthy exoskeleton donned upon our third stage was not even the beginning. Myself and Morgon were not yet two hundred years apart in age, and still at the same secondary stage of our species' life cycle. Yet, he showed the tendency to go into flagrant fits of unaccountable rage that the elders were so known for. While myself, and those my age, were slow to anger and blood lust hardly more than a novelty. For Morgon and those older, it was an unavoidable curse. How naive I had been to think this irritability was merely the loosening faculties of the dying! By three hundred years of age, our Elders were veritable hermits, locking themselves away to keep their own council.

Now I imagined the reasons for this self inflicted ostracizing to go well beyond mere nerves and annoyances. The growing lack of proper decorum was by far more likely. It was not their faculties slipping, it was their dormant instincts growing so powerfully excitable that civilized life held little sway. Blood thirsty warmongering monsters! These were the men and women who governed our race and ruled the council. The lies beneath the surface of our esteemed glory were unaccountable. Peace. Hah!

Morgon's solution to my increasingly paranoid brooding, was a puppy. A Marsh Puppy to be precise, and a particular breed bred to be adept at tree climbing. Canines on my world, at least the variant that is considered a pet, are actually more akin to insects, and proportionally large enough to act as very capable steeds upon adulthood. They still prevailed as a common mode of transportation among the poorer class. They also bond frighteningly close with the one they deem to be their pack master, to the point of foolhardiness.

As a larva, Marsh Puppies resemble fluffy long haired Chihuahuas, with the exception of their long gangly limbs, lack of eyes, and bits of gnarly black exoskeleton along their spines. Mine was beautiful with his long downy coat of platinum blonde hair, the tips of which glowed faintly with a phosphoric nature like fine fiber optic wire. I dubbed him Slee, or Spider, because from the moment my gloating Godfather dumped the twenty pound ball of hair and chitin into my arms, he was scrabbling up my shoulders and digging his hooked claws into the skin of my back. The pint sized creature was, from the start, exactly what I needed to take my mind off the nightmare with prevailed my waking life. I was far too occupied with keeping up with the meddlesome imp to think about the shadow of lurking memory which had left me so inept.

Whether my Godfather intended for what followed to happen or not, I will never be sure, as I will never be sure about many of the coincidences which revolved around his actions. His sly smile was never telling enough to confirm my suspicions that the puppy was a set up for something else altogether terrifying and unequivocally distracting.

Slee, as it turned out, had a knack for running away. Always, I would find him loping off in the same direction of the uninhabited swamps, bounding helter-skelter from one crooked claw of giant mangrove root to another. All the while he somehow managed to dodge this and that ravenous vine which lay in wait, innocently draped across a trail. Sometimes he could be seen ducking craftily from the lunging jaws of some larger prowling beast with some innate skill I would have been proud to possess. This might have been my first clue that all was not right in my Godfather's intentions. The pup did not bond with me as was expected of his breed. His disloyalty knew no bounds.

Thank the gods he was still yet too young to scuttle up the slimy bark of those bloated black trunks. On the fifth day of constantly chasing the little devil about Morgon's waterfront estate, he at last gave me the slip while I made an earnest attempt to rest. Off into the swamps he went, and upon waking to find him missing, nearly both of my hearts seized up in fright. I flung myself from my nest of tangled sheets, and toppled head over heels out of bed, tripping over my own tail in my frantic flight to catch up with him. So sure was I, that some vicious variety of carnivorous flora would snap him up and swallow him whole. Down the halls of the ancient family mansion I fled, claws clattering over the oiled wood floors. The servants scattered from my stampeding flight, casting their bewildered gazes upon my retreating back as I pitched myself into the crisp night air.

One of the benefits to the long months of darkness which fell upon the lighted world beyond the forest, was that even we of the pitch black swamps could feel and know the sun's absence. The humid haze which hung above the putrid swamps would thicken, and the stifling heat would lesson, and in this sense we would know a change of seasons. The months of outer darkness are our winter, and on a planet as eternally tropical as ours, the dropping temperatures, though still well above freezing, were a drastic and shocking change.

Cleaving to the tangled rope of vines which served as railing to Morgon's expansive front porch, I teetered on the very edge of the frigid stone pavers and peered out into the dark void of the forest. I shivered, clad only in the worn pair of pants I'd been wearing upon passing out upon my bed, and armed only with the combi-stick I'd somehow had the good sense to snatch off my dresser. My bare feet were freezing in the evening air, but I bit back the discomfort for the sake of my poor stupid Slee.

The soft orange glow of the lamps which adorned the front walk, and the boardwalk far below the aging root bound home, cast little light upon the shimmering eldritch scene which stretched out before me. Pulses of vibrant color sparkled within the inky curtain as numerous as the stars in the night sky. From the carpet of rich green moss which furred the massive dark trunks to the giant red pitcher plants which hung suspended from the lower maze of roots, all things floral glowed brilliantly, bringing color to an otherwise bleak world of shadow. Upon the broad lake of not quite stagnant black water, fishing boats trolled slowly by, their engines deadly quiet in the mists. In a world of predators, the men aboard were just as easily prey. There was no sign of Slee.

I dashed across the old creaking bridge which linked the Estate's ground tree to the next nearest, which led to the spiraling staircase carved directly into the neighbor tree's knobby side, and from there flew across the boardwalk landing. From the damp planks of the boardwalk to the rise of marshy, mud slicked hills, I took my search deeper into the forest. The pursuit drew me away from the village of Shelu'gush where I had lived all of my life, save for the few hunting trips to the plains in years most recent.

The moment I crossed the borders of my Godfather's land, I knew it. The unease which settled into my bones was still more chilling than the cool winter air. No breeze whispered through the ancient hallow and no sign of intelligent occupation marked the massive bases of the towering trees. The shrill call of birds in the canopy miles above, filtered down through the dark, and broke over the chattering of insects and hooting of toads. Creatures seldom heard in the more densely populated and industrialized sectors.

By the glow of the rustling Amber Fire Fern whose feathery fronds lay a leafy canopy across the trail, I could still yet see the fast fading prints in the soft, rain soaked earth, giving evidence that Slee was up to his old tricks. Always the same direction, always into the Witch's Den. My pulse quickened with more than just fear for my pet, but with fear of the unknown which my brother had cruelly instilled within my mind in our younger years.

Many a long night I'd been kept awake by my brother's evil night time tales of a mad cult of heathens who lived in the Fire Swamp - an area of thin growth in the trees where the canopy actually broke and the soul snatching rays of the sun dared to cast their burning light upon the ground, and plants like those which grew beyond the forest dared to thrive. As an unblooded youth who had never seen the light of day, I found these stories disturbing, and had developed a phobia of the Fire Swamps and the clan rumored to live there.

Now, even though I knew there to be no harm in the light, the legend's otherworldly aspect still prevailed. Tur-lok's tales of ghosts and ghouls had extended to the haunted grounds, and further planted within me a sense that it was a place which ought not be entered by any sane man. Many of the old man's adventure's were believable enough to remain fresh on my mind to this day. Behind every looming tree there lurked a stalking demon, and beneath every patch of Whispering White Rush lay a restless corpse ready to snatch at ones ankles.

Shivering with cold the deeper into the swamp I drove, the air became still and my breath misted before my panting face. The call of wildlife became more sinister, somehow, without the cheerful multihued company of the Glowing Funnel Weed and Winking Orbs of creeping fungi whose presence retreated either from the sound of my foot fall, or had been driven away by the unwelcome chill. An ominous sense of foreboding washed over me, turning my blood to ice. Only in the mountain's depths had I felt such an ethereal hook upon my entrails. But, Slee's tracks became more defined, and I took heart that he was near and still yet alive. Already, I had dodged three voracious patches of Snapping Bog Cap, a nasty species of fungus resembling a fly trap, all still yet unsprung and dripping with honey sweet saliva. I was more than happy to leave the flesh reaving flora starving, and cast them a furtive look as I hustled by.

Daring to call his childish name, I heard my cracking voice echo over the clammy wood. In time to my breaking of their noisome pattern, the clamoring swamp creatures hushed, and scuttled for safety. More likely they were merely moving closer for a quick kill of a young, foolish Scavian. Slee's yipping bark was my answer though, and encouraged, I ran head long down the overgrown trail, my breath heaving in my burning lungs. The sight that awaited me around the bend stole my breath away, and light headed, I staggered into a snarl of jutting root with a surprised shout.

Three rotting faces of Scavian's long dead, stood locked together upon a single rotting pike. The skulls' grill of fangs, stacked one upon the other, were decorated with bits of dangling bone, claw, and morbid fetish. Putrid hide hung in ragged strings from their eviscerated jaw lines, and in the faint flickering glow of the few prevailing Winking Orbs, I gaped at the dark stains which dribbled down their brow ridges and streaked the pole.

Claws digging into the rough bark behind me, I steeled myself to look again. These were not spirits of the damned rushing to meet me from the dark corners of the underworld, but a conglomeration of misfortunate's bound together in decay as a warning to those venturing down the path, to stay away. How long the decomposing vestiges had been in place was hard to tell, or even, who they had been. Rumors were always abound of vagrants going missing in the forbidden areas where Hell's unholy light scorched the earth.

A distant shrill yip shook me from my rabid, stuttering gaze. My head snapped up to look beyond the ugly totem, and strained against the wall of black beyond the comforting orange dance of the Winking Orbs. Bioluminescence was thinner ahead, assuring me that soon I would be relying on sound, and smell alone to guide my way. A shambling world of static made sharper by proximity, and the ventral spirals of crimson heat emanating from various organisms.

Hauling my withering courage along behind, I now kept one hand firmly clasping the combi-stick, ready to protract its double ended spires at the slightest sound. The undergrowth slowly overtook the darkening trail. Dead vines and peeling gnarls of roots made the way more difficult to navigate. No more than one man could have filed down the old way at a time. I fast began to lose faith that poor Slee had continued this path, but again his poignant call carried through the towering ancient wood and I hastened to meet him on feet numb with cold.

A most peculiar phenomena began to play tricks on my inner eye. Though the undergrowth was thickening and inhibiting my way, the forest appeared to be less dense. The sounds of my ragged breath brought the sharp grey pulse of the bloated trunks to either side of me and just ahead, into greater focus, until I was sure that soon the prison of trees would break into a clearing. The old fear rose up anew. Tur'lok had sworn the beasts of this place did not act like any god given soul he'd ever seen. The wolves in particular were of an odd variety that did not skulk behind you to ambush but snarled and charged with belligerent madness. Again I shook myself, knowing that if I did not find Slee soon, someone would have to come looking for me, and perhaps find my own handsome skull speared through the root by a witch's pike.

Stumbling clumsily through the thick curtain of reeds, a swath of damp moss met my aching feet, and I burst forth upon the break in the wood I had foreseen. I flailed blindly to a choking halt, my voice catching in my throat as the black and white scene gave way to pale green moonlit meadow. Of all the horrors and nightmares I had born over the passing weeks since dear Tur'lok's passing, none had been near so astonishing as this.

Like a dancing moon beam, the visage of a goddess reared up across the clearing, stealing my breath away. I clutched at my aching chest and spied upon the diminutive female kneeling next to my troublesome dog which danced and pranced about her slender heels with peculiar familiarity. Above, where the canopy broke, and the corpulent moon shone down upon the eerie spot, her silvery cast was made more mysterious by the leopard spots which dotted her bare back in luminescent lavender rosettes. She sported the older fashioned ram's horns which had been painstakingly trained to curl to each side of her face. She could not have been more than my own age but wore the adornments of a healer of old, one who dealt with the plants and roots of the loamy earth and spoke with spirits. She was a shaman, or perhaps the stories were true, and my goddess was a witch.

Compassionately, she tended to Slee as if he were her own, and the animal responded in like, as if he knew her. I made to call out, so as not to startle her with my unexpected approach, but was cut off by the brisk crashing movement of something thundering through the undergrowth. A beast of disastrous proportions whose ragged breath huffed hoarsely and reached my ears like a clap of echoing thunder. Likewise, Slee and his savior looked up sharply, following the harrowing sound. Slee hissed and yapped, while the girl gasped and drew back, her horns tossing side to side, looking for cover.

Too late. A frothy maw of gleaming fangs bounded from the far line of trees and hurtled over the meadow, eating away the rapidly closing distance in five galloping bounds. Horrid eyes that blazed like boiled egg whites, rolled in their wet sockets, and its snarling head fell upon the girl. I attacked out of instinct, launching myself at Light's demonic servant while its jaws were stretched wide. I fell beside the female, shoving her startled form away and placing myself in direct line for death. Its hot, stinking breath closed in without hesitation, and my trigger happy claws at last tripped the switch on the combi-stick. The dual tipped spear protracted with a deadened snap just in time to catch the monster's soft pallet with one barbed tip, and the back of its throat with the other.

I imagined I heard the female screaming then, but in that moment I wasn't sure who's wail was louder, hers, mine, or maybe the pained and gagging wolf as its bite bore down upon the durasteel spear tips. I would never find out either, because in that same instant which the beast was posed to kill itself in the act of snapping me up for dinner, something slammed into me from the side and sent me flying across the clearing, broken spear shaft splintering in my hands. A stunted tree at the edge of the wood was kind enough to break my unexpected flight.

Crumpling into the tall grass, the wind was knocked from my aching lungs. I lay prone and too stunned to move. I believe I was unconscious and dreaming then because in my helpless state I imagined the most ludicrous of dreams. I looked upon a sight dredged from my deepest nightmares. It was the black demon of the mountain top, the secret which heralded from a distant era and promised damnation to all in due time. The skeletal beast stalked like a glittering black insect, it's massive elongated skull swinging first to the girl on the ground and then to the crying wolf which huddled like a tame pup at the demon's feet.

Thin black limbs, shiny and wet, reached for the Plains Wolf, fearlessly wrenching open its massive jaws, and probing a corpse like hand into its throat. All the while the beast lay still and trembling. Slee and the girl watched with frank fascination. The Old One pulled from the animal's mouth, the two bloodied and barbed tips of my ruined combi-stick. It's blank face snarled hatefully at the pieces before casting them aside with distaste. Those same long digits caressed the wolf's quivering snout and slapped its side, sending it back to its feet with a playful bounce. The dog's blank, white eyes turned to my forgotten place and its lips pulled back into a remembered rage. The demon snatched at its bristling mane and tugged it back a step, winning its attention with a curdling shriek the likes of which nothing on Sordia could have ever uttered.

With a far flung gesture, the confused hound was sent back into the woods. The skulking devil turned its soulless gaze upon me next, and though I was now recovered enough to run, I found that I could not. I was frozen as if in a nightmare, further convincing me that this couldn't be real. Nothing in that moment could have convinced my stalwart limbs to obey. It's shining silver teeth dripped long threads of glistening saliva as it stalked purposefully forward. Behind it, the girl moved, hurriedly rushing along beside the Old One and calling out to it.

She called it, Zen'Rraj'ya'k N Zen, or Clan Mother, and hastened to it to stop. Five paces from where I lay, it did, and turned on the girl to hiss between those awful metallic teeth words that were frightfully Scavian and chillingly coherent.

"What would you have me do with him, my daughter? He cannot know the truth. Go back and do not watch. The boy must die." The black monster crooned and swung her ghastly head back my way.

Ravenous jaws parted and loomed teasingly close. The she-demon's breath was hot and wet against my cheek but I braced myself for the end.

I awoke in my room in my Godfather's waterfront home. Beside my bed, that splendid beauty from the meadow knelt quietly, patiently watching me with Slee by her side. My head ached for reasons I assumed to do with the tree I had remembered slamming into. Rubbing my sore skull I winced and offered the lovely sight as dashing a smile as I could conjure. She laughed, her high fluting voice finding my half pained expression hilarious.

"Welcome back, boy." A gruff voice barked from the door way. I looked around in the dimly lit room and found Morgon leaning against the door frame, arms crossed and smiling smugly.

Laughing uneasily, I tried to shrug, found I couldn't without emitting an undignified yelp, and gave into lying back in the pillows. "Mind telling me what happened?" I asked, my sight never leaving the pretty face beside me.

She blushed and turned away, giving Slee all her attention.

"Oh that's easy. You got into a scuff with a Plains Wolf when you went off looking for that ball of fur I gave you." He smiled. "Picked off more than you could chew, I reckon, and it batted you across the clearing. Lucky for you that the servants came and found me when you ran off into the woods. I went after you and showed up just before it decided to make a meal of you. A few warning shots from my burner did the trick, sent him running off with his tail tucked between his legs."

Though the old man was the one speaking, it was the girl I watching. I could not have pulled my gaze from her blushing cheeks if I had wanted too. What I noticed was her grimace of disapproval at Morgon's account. So angry was her expression that I chanced a glance his way and noted that the blue LED of Morgon's shoulder mounted burner was steady on, not pulsing as if it were charging. Either my Godfather was lying or I had been out long enough for the weapon to fully recharge.

"Seems I've made a mistake though, boy. That pup I gave you must have wandered off from Jade, here. That's why he wouldn't stay put. He'd already bonded with her and was only wanting to go home." Perhaps it was me, but the old General looked defiantly away from Jade while saying this. And she in turn glared heatedly back.

"Jade?" I asked her, wanting her beautiful face to look on me and not him. Her expression softened and her head turned. "I'm sorry. I didn't know Slee belonged to you. You must have been very worried about him." I reached out my hand to catch hers which rested on the edge of my bed. The blush in her cheek returned.

"I was." She admitted. "Dun'tin is safe though." She looked and her cheeks continued to blush. "And so are you."

Laughing as heartily as my bruised ribs would allow, I shook my head. "Well, I am sorry for the trouble we've caused you. And I will be sorry to lose, Slee, but I am glad Dun'tin has such a captivating mistress. I envy him. I believe I might dash blindly through any danger to be at your side too." I flashed my most stunning grin and gave her hand a squeeze.

She looked up sharply and met my gaze. For a moment I thought perhaps I had laid the compliments on too thick, but then the harsh judgmental air relaxed from her face and she shook my words off as rambling nonsense.

"I think that you already have." She whispered coyly.

And still I could not look away. My fascination with her was in part because she was beautiful, more stunning than any female I had ever admired. The other reason was because my exposure to females up until this point had been very limited. Males and females are raised apart in my species, separated from the nest following our first molt. I was of the age that I could begin to socialize and court the fairer gender if I so chose, but the weeks following my Blooding had been spent in thrall of Tur'lok's tales of the supernatural, and of my effort to complete his failed quest. And then of course, most recently, I was busy brooding. Jade was the first female I had ever set such critical sights upon.

A deep voice cleared itself with a hacking cough from the door. We both looked and saw Morgon still lingering. "I think I'll just let you two alone for awhile." He smiled knowingly and sauntered out.
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Floyd's Profile
Level: 75
Notes: Questing for Rayquaza
Affiliation: None

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Level: 32
Notes: Nothing yet!
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Angel
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I Am The Coolest Person And You Should All Know It
I love alien stories. I really do. There's that element of creativity that comes through when a person makes up a whole alien planet with its scenery, flora and fauna that allows you to gaze into that person's mind. Very interesting to say the least. The love story thing was slightly original, don't really remember one where the dog was used to set the pair up, except maybe in 101 Dalmations. Still it was very original. For some reason now I see Morgon in a new light as an evil conspirator.

Now we move on to the icky part. There were several errors that I feel the need to point out. These are:
  • There were several instances throughout the free form that you used "it's" instead of "its". I see this commonly in your writing and its something you should try and address in the future like here: "It's blank face snarled hatefully at the pieces before casting them aside with distaste."
  • "It was not their faculties slipping, it was their dormant instincts growing so powerfully excitable that civilized life held little sway." This sentence would've sound slightly better if divided into two or if a semi colon was placed where the comma was.
  • "Morgon's solution to my increasingly paranoid brooding, was a puppy." There was really no need for a comma in this sentence.
  • "A Marsh Puppy to be precise, and a particular breed bred to be adept at tree climbing." This would've sounded better as two sentences.
  • "Many of the old man's adventure's were believable enough to remain fresh on my mind to this day." In this sentence "adventure's" should be "adventures".
  • "Bioluminescence was thinner ahead, assuring me that soon I would be relying on sound, and smell alone to guide my way." Again the comma.


After taking into account all of this, I add, subtract, multiply, divide and apply a differential equation or two to arrive at the following values:

Mav: You get 14 :ffexp out of this. You have two choices:

  • A) You take all of the moves request and a lien of 7 :gexp2 .
  • B) You select only a few moves out of the list, up till the amount that the result allows, and free form for the others later.


If you choose B, then the the costs for the moves are: 1.5 :ffexp for Pound and Scratch, 3.0 :ffexp for Gastric Acid, and 5.0 :ffexp for each of the remaining moves. Either way, I get .4 :gexp2 . Enjoy!
Edited by Angel, Sep 4 2010, 12:08 AM.
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Sprite by Kaiz
APL: 67.6
MPL: 50.0
Current Landmark: Radloff City
Current Destination: Wherever Raikou is
Current Quest: Raikou Hunting!
Party
Posted Image :ml :lvl 71 :hp 213 :happiness x3Posted Image :ml :lvl 69 :hp 138 :happiness x10Posted Image :ml :lvl 67 :hp 201 :happiness x3
Posted Image :ml :lvl 66 :hp 198 :happiness x5Posted Image :ml :lvl 65 :hp 195 :happiness x2Posted Image Egg :lvl ?? :hp ?? :happiness x??
LP
Feel free to pm me for a mod!
"Hey...opinions are like assholes, everyone has one, but you don't always have to show yours off."
~Mav
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Maverick
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"How many assholes we got on this ship anyhow?"
Some good points, and a few I'd argue with if I were all that concerned.

I'll accept A. with the 7 :gexp lien, given that all moves beyond this and that last batch will need to be free-form specific.

I currently have:
1.2 :gexp saved from RPing.
1.9 :gexp saved from modding.
.1 :gexp leftover from my last town visit.
26.9 :ffexp

1.2 +1.9+1=3.2
7-3.2=3.8
26.9-3.8=23.1

This depletes all :gexp on hand and leaves me with 23.1 :ffexp .

Gcore's mundane moveset is complete and we can move on to actually explaining how the more complicated stuff works with stories about him. Moves take effect at next town visit.

Thanks Tench. Have an extra .3 for looking this closely into it for me. Be sure to post in the smod forum the cost Frac set for these and the last set of moves in case we ever need to do something like this again.
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