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You are 999, a blobby mass of joy and happiness for all! And once again, there are spiders. Why is it always spiders?

List of (most of) your current Traits/Skills/Trinkets/Friends&Enemies/Unknowns:

O5 Quest 2 Finale: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1nJbAK46FAl1B7j7WaqA4Z7O48LseF3cFLkmD4IjduWA/edit?usp=sharing
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Previously on 999 Quest:

You had finally awoken from your previous ordeals after Being unconscious for a week, caught up with Purple and Blackwood, and finally got to actually physically interact with Red and Blue again. Following that, you rushed down to go treat yourselves to a long overdue breakfast after all you've went through, but instead got roped into the service of a local spirit to try and recover some personal artifact of its.

As things currently stand, you are deeply regretting your choices right now, as a rushing invisible limb tries to run you through. Red and Blue have been captured for use in some kind of macabre ritual, and here you are, fighting alongside Purple, Lord Blackwood and Dr Spanko against the awful awful spider cultists who took them.

Another wall of invisible force descends upon you quickly, and you feel the brush of a thousand miniscule feelers drift upon your flesh. It pushes again, and those feelers turn jagged and harsh, digging into you.

You're really starting to hate spiders.
Purify the heretic spiders
Roll a 2d100.

Ah shit, forgot. Here we go.
Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=999+Quest
Rolled 93, 46 = 139 (2d100)

Rolled 75, 43 = 118 (2d100)

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139. The spiders are now extra crispy. Writing.
>Purify the heretic spiders
You leap away, just as the feelers start *reslly* trying to dig their way in. Blazing a field of raw purifying light around you, you concentrate and focus it, aiming right towards the rightmost figure draped in a cloak of spiders trying to gather his horde of chitinous monstrosities for another go.


"Aw, how cute. It's gathering little specks of power against us." the cultist giggles to itself. "Truly, Brothers. This is the most adorably psthetic thing we have encountered ye-"

The wave of raw light flares outside of your form, tearing into the fabric of this strange place as it rushes towards the spidery cultist. They can barely finish a gasp before the waves tear through them and continue on to hit the towering *thing* behind it, blown away by an invisible barrier of some kind.

As the smoke clears, you can clearly see the results of your handiwork. Half of the cultist is flat-out *gone*. Vanished entirely. And whatever is left is a mess of extra crispy spiders jsut barely clinging on as it is.

"Brother!" all of the figures all but scream in unison. "Arrogant cur! You shall pay for that a thousandfold!"

Two of the figures start to rush you, forms shifting as their spiders break away to reveal the hulking nightmares underneath. Chitinous legs and mandible and claws adorn the almost twin beasts, as gossamer wings stretch from aiding holes on their backs. Grasping feelers and tentacles drift out of strange sockets across their 'heads', but you cannot seem to connect any of this to the main, almost crustacean bodies of the creatures. Nor any of their other limbs for that matter. They just drift apart from the main mass, and seemingly go anywhere they want to, like some kind of demented jigsaw puzzle.

Spanko, and Purple are already moving to intercept the two brutes, with Blackwood jumping off of Spanko's back a bit to open fire with a previously concealed gun of sorts against the other figures who stay back from the main fight. But you know that they won't get here fast enough to counter these things before they barrel into you.

Guess it's about time you tried some seafood.
time for a literal hail storm of fire and ice
also try and freeze the limbs together due to its jigsaw nature i dont think it can move so well with the limbs connected by the ice or stuck in it
Rolled 70, 68 = 138 (2d100)

Roll a 3d100.
Rolled 85, 70, 50 = 205 (3d100)

Rolled 42, 87, 83 = 212 (3d100)

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212. These anomalies won't know what hit them. Literally. Writing.
>time for a literal hail storm of fire and ice
>also try and freeze the limbs together due to its jigsaw nature i dont think it can move so well with the limbs connected by the ice or stuck in it
You glare at the approaching masses of decidedly anomalous nature, and decide that the best way to deal with this is to treat them to a literal snow-storm.

Breathing in and out, you let your very surroundings go cold and freeze, slowing down around you. And then you strike.

Flashing forward towards the oncoming abominations, you stretch your limbs and out pours a literal storm of frigid cold snow and ice, swarming over the creatures and sending them screeching. Purifying energy burns against their eldritch bodies, burning away at their carapace and leaving whole areas on their bodies blazing with a radiant and fast-spreading blaze.

>Snow-Storm has advanced up the steps of realization (E)! The storm has grown into a purifying wave! Things are only going to get better from here!

But you're not through with these anomalies yet, and as you rush to the side of them, you feel a sudden urge to wave and move your limbs around rapidly. So you do. And as you do so, the air around you flairs up, as chains of ice and fire shoot out of the mist left over from your previous attack, wrapping tightly arpund the insectoid horrors and *squeezing*. The hiss and screams of the creatures as their flesh boils in their shells is a loud and almost deafening thing from your distance, and the chains start to tighten around them more as they struggle and fight against the effect. Ouch.

>A new skill has attained realization within you [Chains of Harrow] (C.): Through the sea of spiritual fire within you, you can bend the very elements into chains of flame and ice to imprison your foes and let them suffer for their crimes. Pretty grim, but it's just so dang cool too!

Even as you have the two creatures tied up, you watch as one of the other two cultists bursts into a huge mouth like horror, before screaming bloody murder at all of you.


From its back, glowing green whips of flesh snake out, snapping forwards to you and the rest of oyur group, the air similarly becoming tainted with their green light.
Blow it up with a song of fury!
Rolled 26, 85, 83 = 194 (3d100)

Roll a 3d100.
Rolled 29, 51, 3 = 83 (3d100)

Rolled 92, 11, 64 = 167 (3d100)

Rolled 54, 27, 64 = 145 (3d100)

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167. Not looking good for you here. Will write come morning.
>Blow it up with a song of fury!
The tendrils speed forwards, snaking towards you with their twisted green light. You leap forward and ready yourself to unleash a Song of Fury, purifying light coursing through you. But as you blaze with white flames, the green haze from the tendrils begins to snake into your body, twisting into your core more and more.

You let lose a muffled cry, and try to stop yourself, cutting off what power you've gathered so far. But it isn't fast enough.


A song of twisted discordance radiates out from you, carried along by the awful pale green light tainting your body. Rivulets of that awful green cloud wrap around you and bore into you as the painful song takes its toll. You scream out as your body finally starts to fall from the skies, dripping away and loosening into nothingness.

"999!" you hear Blackwood call out, as Spanko swoops down to catch your diminished frame in his talons. Your body shakes slightly from the leftover damage from before as Spanko soars away.


The giant mouth-moth-thing howls in apparent glee, before surging forwards, pale green light coating it in a hard shell.

Use our healing ability on ourselves to heal our wounds.
Backing this
>Use our healing ability on ourselves to heal our wounds.
You twist in the air as Spanko races to avoid the first charge as the green comet-like mass of the entity whizzes by you, trailing the toxic green thataflfcited you earlier. Spanko hurriedly flaps his isn't a and redirects himself out and away from the creature as it zooms back in for another strike.

Meanwhile, as you're held in Spanko's talons, you weave fire and warm light together, and start applying it to your wounds. It's a slow process, especially with the damage you've sustained thus far, but so long as Spanko keeps playing keep away with this guy, you should have enough time to-

A sudden snapping noise fills the air, promptly accompanied by two very very angry howls. Guess your chains must have finally snapped.

The two insectoid anomalies you'd dealt with before soar up to block your view suddenly, bodies twitching with apparent pain, leftover white flames still burning into their bleeding shells and thoroughly tattered wings. They scream their hate and rage, and slash with their claws and tendrils without further hesitation.

Spanko manages to veer away and dodge the brunt of the assault, but one claw clips his wing and you go sailing out of his talons as Spanko himself is sent hurtling away with a gash across his wing, trailing red.

You manage to weave enough of oyur mass together to half form a wing for yourself, with Purple chipping in to supplement the rest of your flying ability with a structure composed out of glowing magic with a deep violet-tint.

"[Orange, are you okay?]" Purple looks to you worriedly, an equally worried Blackwood clinging to his back. "[I'll try to lessen the damage you've taken, but you'll need to fully heal on your own when you've got the chance. And we'll also need a plan, since we aren't doing quite as well as I'd hope.]"

"Hmm, yes. Any ideas, 999 my boy?"
ask him what he thinks of us becoming a bomb a ice shelled balloon filling up on purification energy until it bursts or summoning a storm of purification if we can
>ask him what he thinks of us becoming a bomb a ice shelled balloon filling up on purification energy until it bursts or summoning a storm of purification if we can
"It's a risky idea, my boy. Especially if something disturbs the process before you can complete it." Blackwood closes his eyes and seems to focus for a moment. "But I think we can pull it off."

"[We'll protect you as best we can, Orange.]" Purple nods to you, as the three anomalies gather together and begin their rush at you, the one covered in a stream of awful green leading the charge.

It's go time.

>Roll a 3d100 for whatever plan you go with
Rolled 29 (1d100)

Rolled 18, 43, 63 = 124 (3d100)

Lets do this
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124. Time to nuke some bugs. Writing.
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>ask him what he thinks of us becoming a bomb a ice shelled balloon filling up on purification energy until it bursts or summoning a storm of purification if we can
You nod to both Purple and Blackwood, who move to intercept the oncoming anomalies. You can still 'feel' Spanko around, so he's not dead, but his presence definitely feels weaker overall. Definitely not a good sign.

Guess you'll jsut have to hurry this up then.

You start to gather as much power as you can, allowing it to flow into you and through you. You wince a bit as it starts to pour in. Your body still hasn't recovered fully from that last attack, but you'll jsut have to push through the pain. As you keep on gathering power, a shell of ice and snow wraps around you. A shell to hold the storm within until the time is right.

Outside your willful cage, you hear your friends cry out as they clash. Cries of rage, pain and determination echo outwards as they contest the screeches and gibbering of the nightmarish horrors they're facing. You'll have it make this count. For them.

The air grows heavier and heavier as your ball of ice and snow and storm ascends into the skies. The awful desert before is probably so far away now, but you push the shell ever higher and higher, never stopping. It *needs* to be high enough for this to work.

The sphere slows down as you continue your ascent, until suddenly you can't push it any further to any significant degree. But that's okay.

You're right where you want to be.

The sphere cracks, and it hisses, as the storm within pushes away at the shell constraining it. Massiveciwnds pick up and swirl about it, frost and frigid air whirling together as the shell starts to come undone. Until suddenly, with a total air of finality-


The whole thing comes loose, and the storm surges outward. You pray that your friends made it out of there safely in time, but that's about the sum of oyur thoughts before you fall as storm and frigid claw and whipping winds. Falling upon the anomalies who would dare to take those you care about form you.


The giant aberration is swept up in the clouds of your fury, and is cast aside into a hungering maw of the cold and purifying light. A scream follows its fall. One that is quickly echoed when the other two entities are drawn into the heart of oyur power as well.

And the cries go silent as your fury reaches a crescendo. And all the world goes white with the noise.

>Roll a 2d100
Rolled 11, 84 = 95 (2d100)

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95. Overall, better than expected. Writing.
You blink blearily, as the world swims and struggles to pull itself back into focus. Ow, your everything aches right now.

You notice, vaguely, that you're still in the air though. You're not sure how you retained the strength of will to maintain your bird form after all that, but you're not one to look a a gift-wrapped horse in the mouth. Or something.

Looking around as the world stops spinning for a moment, you can see your friends are also still in the air. They seem exhausted, and you note that Spanko is back amongst them with a wing coated in purple energy like some kind of cast. But they're okay, and that's what matters.

And looking around, you don't see the three anomalies that were there earlier. Even as you reach out with some spiritual power to try and trace them, you get...nothing.

They genuinely seem like they're gone. Which only leaves you with-

"Very impressive, heathen."

The chittering of thousands upon thousands of spiders imitating a human voice snaps you and your allies attentions towards your target. The cultist who originally attacked you chuckles darkly, even as the twitching and shattered remnants of the first cultist you took out revolves around him, gurgling and struggling in futility to pull itself back together.

"All of my brothers have fallen thus far," the cultist remarks, voice low. "Truly, I had not expected this. Perhaps from the sorcerous infidels who attempted to interrupt our last attempt at calling the Fifth World down upon this realm of sin, but certainly not at the hands of the likes of you."

'Sorcerous infidels?' Just what exactly was he talking about?

"BUt no more!" he suddenly shouts, voice carrying across the sands and amidst the chorus of spiders, as he waves to the aberration of a tower behind him. "Already our God has grown fat on the offerings we have given it! Even as we fought, it supped upon the faithful and this framework we have made has grown ever greater! From the cries and sorrows of brethren but yours and ours, the Fifth World approaches!"

As the unstable cultist continues to rant and babble, you hear something prickle against your mind for the faintest of instants. Screams.

Red and Blue. They're inside that...*thing*. And they're suffering.

"But even with that light to guide the way, it's not enough! And so, as a final offering into God, we offer ourselves!"

He cackles as he finishes his rant, voice becoming shorted as his body becomes consumed in pale green and bright pink, alongside that other cultist. And as the colors engulf them, their bodies break apart and start to swirl into the abomination behind them. Other lights flare across the sands as well in that moment, and start to fly into the 'tower' before you, which starts to pulsate with a dim green glow.

That's definitely not any good. But how do you stop it?
Rolled 67, 89, 62 = 218 (3d100)

Charge and melee attack with our sword. Rolling in advance.
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218. Well, you've certainly got its attention now. Writing.
>Charge and melee attack with our sword. Rolling in advance.
You draw your sword, which almost blinds you from how brightly it's glowing, white and blue radiating out from it as the titanic aberration before you groans as the earth splits beneath its bulk, thousands upon thousands of spiders swarming upwards and covering every last inch of it in a layer of black. Colorless green light oozes and flows all throughout the monstrosity, all as a sickly pink haze hangs over it. And then it starts to *move*.

A hiss, a scream layered over itself a billion-billion times echoes as the abomination tears its way out of the sands below. And then you see it. You see the bulk of what was silent up until now.

A seemingly unending assortment of jagged insectoid limbs unfurls beneath you, rising ever higher as more and more of it reveals itself from beneath the golden waves. The painful haze of colorless green clouds your senses, and starts trying to snake its way into your mind and body.

No! You'll put an end to this here!

You fly forward, ignoring your allies desperate cries to wait, and you raise your sword, shining brightly like a star as it comes down onto the spiderlike nightmare before you.

The blade digs in, and the wood, and stone, and flesh, and carapace give way beneath it with a hiss and clatter of destroyed material, exposing waves of roiling green as it does. And right before your eyes, the damage is undone. The limb of the entity snaps back into place, and any trace of damage from your part is completely gone.

You only have a moment to look on in horror before jagged and twisting spines 'ripple' out of the air around you, digging into your flesh and twisting sharply. You're held aloft solely by the support of the bodiless limbs, as strange tendrils of hues unfathomable curl around your body, whispering sweet nothing's in your mind.
Rolled 84, 98, 92 = 274 (3d100)

ok, lets see how well it handles fire. PURIFYING TOUCH!
274. You'll definitely dislike any spiders after this. Writing.
>ok, lets see how well it handles fire. PURIFYING TOUCH!
You struggle against the jagged spines piercing into your flesh, wincing in pain as they twist further in, all as the titanic spider-thing before you continues to rise and push itself out of the sands, completely ignoring your presence.

Well, okay then. That's fine with you.

With a sudden eruption of light and flame, the spines holding you in place are vaporized and blown away. Glaring at the gigantic aberration rising ever upwards, you string the flames around and in you together, erupting upwards again in a swirl of purifying flames and radiant warmth. And then you bring it down.

Like a saw going through flesh, your spiritual mass tears into the abomination, pulverizing flesh and wood and spiders as you run it through like a hot knife through butter. You cut through another couple legs before the entity finally seems to notice you, having continued to ignore you up until now. There is no sound, no cry or scream to denote its attention turning on you, but the silence it casts provides a scrutinizing gaze all the same.

>Purifying Touch has attained further realization (B++)! The flames of the pure within you have grown stronger from their usage, and with flaming saw and blade, you can meet any horror. Let loose the cries of Blorble!

Lines of green and pink weave through the air, arms of flickering alien light that weave awful shapes in the space around you. You watch as three of the lines change direction and fly towards Purple, Spanko and Blackwood close by, but two of the remaining come towards you, widening and yawning open to reveal green maws lined with teeth upon teeth. A green arc of lightning rockets out from one mouth, and lances against your side, burning as it blazes by.

Grunting, you ready yourself as they start to encroach.
Rolled 27, 59, 11 = 97 (3d100)

Create a shield of ice to block the attack.
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97. Not quite sufficient. Writing.
Rolled 43 (1d100)

>You blink blearily, as the world swims and struggles to pull itself back into focus. Ow, your everything aches right now.
How insane are you, SCP 999?
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>Create a shield of ice to block the attack.
You raise your arms, and around you the world slows and freezes as you raise a shield in your defense. The frost and cold comes together into a barrier to whether the force of this thing's attack as the tendrils descend.

It's not enough.

The awful colorless light blasts through your hastily-made shielding in but an instant, flaring and scattering the ice and snow you wove together, sending you flying back, body scattering in bits and pieces that quickly fall to the ground. Everything burns as the hideous arcs of light tear through you like tissue-paper.

With a struggling blorbling cry, you throw yourself out of the wave of energy, managing to reconstitute just enough of a wing to flap away with. But already you can feel the radioactive prickling all throughout your body as you try to fly away. It's not finished yet.

Around you, you once again witness space warp and bend. Except this time, it's not forming spines of insectoid limbs to impale you with. In fact, it's not doing anything at all. The distortions merely hang in the air, rippling but doing nothing else.

At least, until you start gasping for some measure of air. Everything around you has gone silent, and you can't breath or hear. You're already struggling, as you watch the ripples in reality start to close in all around you. Like a box slowly enclosing to squeeze the life from a mouse. And you're right in the middle of it.

You can see Purple breaking from his conflict with the green tendrils to try and rush for you, screaming something that you can't hear. But three more jump from behind him, and catch him in their waves of energy, necessitating him having to duck away from you and try to shake them off, to little effect.

Around you still, the box of smothering reality distortions continues to close in, slowly squeezing you as you struggle against the horror. It hurts to even move at this point, and you can already feel yourself starting to slow down in your desperate flapping.

You need a way out. Fast.
Rolled 1, 65, 23 = 89 (3d100)

Attempt to slice our way out of the box with our sword.
999 might not seem like it, but he probably stopped giving a fuck around the time Vuindred gave him the Four Sword.

The RNG is not on your side tonight. I'll leave it open for a bit, in case someone comes out with a lucky roll.
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Alright, going with the 89. Let's see how things go. Writing.
>Attempt to slice our way out of the box with our sword.
You gasp harshly-or rather, try to. You aren't taking in anything at all, and it's getting harder and harder to breath. Everything is growing numb and cold and dark.

You can vaguely make out Purple and Spanko rushing to reach you again, but they're batted away by the lines of green again, which have shifted into large multi-faceted spider-dog things, mandible and jaws snapping open to try and swallow them whole. They won't reach you on time.

You desperately pull for your sword and wave it frantically against the nonexistent walls of your steadily closing prison. The light around it pulses and struggles desperately, but barely gets more than a faint ripple for its trouble.

Is it over?

Is this it? Is this how you're going to die? Dying choking and desperately struggling, leaving your friends to die as well? Blue and Red too, trapped forever inside that monstrosity, screaming for you to come save them?

You feel yourself choking, closing up. It's all going dark. Maybe it would be best to take a nap after all...

"Hmph. How pathetic."

Huh-Wha? A voice? But how?

"Squirm no longer, vermin. We have come to rectify this mistake of yours."

You crack your eyes open a little bit, staring at a shadowed figure floating right before you. Vuindred?

"First things first, let's remove what's left of this barrier." the figure states as the sound of glass shattering breaches your perceptions, and your sight almost immediately snaps back, along with your breath. Taking several shaky and deep breaths, you cough and splutter for a moment before looking up to your savior.

It's not actually Vuindred like you had guessed. Instead, it's an adult man with actual skin and flesh, instead of just pure bone. He has a scraggly beard along his face and his eyes are hard and stony. Behind him, three others float quietly, but you can't quite make out their faces or expressions.

"Master, should we really be-" the voice is that of a young male, to the left of the older man.

"Be silent, boy." the elder shushes him. "We have work to do, and these spirits may prove useful to us."

"Tell me, spirit. What is it that we face here?"
tell them about the weird abomination and ask them if they have seen our friend
Tell him all about the fucked up spider shit in here and how Blue and Red are trapped and we're trying to rescue them.
>tell them about the weird abomination and ask them if they have seen our friend
>Tell him all about the fucked up spider shit in here and how Blue and Red are trapped and we're trying to rescue them.
"Blorble blorble blorb-blorb blorble-blorb blorb blorble bloorrble blorbblebleblorbleblorb blorb blorbbit-blorble blorble blorb-"

"Enough, creature." the man raises a hand, staring down at you harshly. "Your tongue is difficult to decipher, but I suppose I can understand the bulk of what you are saying. This abomination before us is your failing I am to take it, due to your inability to secure your fellow spirits."

The statement is phrased as a question, but you know just from the tone that you're not expected to actually answer. The man's scowl somehow deepens (you're surprised that's even possible), and he turns to address his three acolytes, who you can identify as being two males and one female now that you're taking a closer look, and aren't still choking up.

"This aberration is very different compared to many a thing I've seen before. It is clearly a thing of the Abyss, but far mightier than many I have come across. This space around us is very likely some manner of Abyssal Verge and as such, we should-"

Yeah, you're just going to tune him out at this point. Youve said your piece, and honestly, this guy is not all that nice.

Looking back to the titanic spidery *thing* rising out of the sands, you watch as Spanko dives in and tears into one of the smaller sets of legs, causing twisted vapors to rise and putrid green light to seep outwards. And suddenly, the damage is undone, the legs snapping back into place, and grasping claws digging into Spanko's side and drawing red from his body. Purple is to the opposite side, throwing spells as Blackwood takes shots from atop his back, but again, it does little to slow the entity at all, and they are quickly forced away by yet more blasts of green light as reality breaks like glass where the burst hit.

You have to do something. Anything!


You pause and turn slightly. The strange man and his acolytes are behind you again. Just what is it now?

"We shall provide you with our aid for the moment. As it stands now, our goals align. You wish to 'save' those other spirits you have gathered with you, and we wish to prevent this Verge from growing any larger than it already has. As such, you have our aid for now."

Well, that's great and all, but it doesn't exactly give you a plan here.

Above you, the air shifts and is displaced as you watch a loud, groaning 'leg' of the entity materialize and begin to shadow you, quickly descending with vicious purpose.

"Move! Now!" the eldest mage shouts, and raises a hand shimmering with a strange energy that ripples and pulsates oddly.
Rolled 29, 17, 27 = 73 (3d100)

dodge the attack
73, but bolstered somewhat by the mage. Things are heating up. Writing.
>dodge the attack
You move, twisting your body out of the way as the massive limb comes down, and the elder mage's arm alights with power. And as the limb of the spider comes down and impacts the mage's outstretched arm,the world almost seems to distort and glitch.

And then there is a flash of white, casting aside the green. You have to avert and cover your eyes from the brightness of it.

When the light clears, all that remains of the once threatening limb are flecks of green and dust, as the mage shakily keeps his hand in the air. And though you can see the air distorting as the limb reassembles itself, it moves much MUCH slower than before. Had he actually harmed it?

The mage looks like he's about to fall over even as he keeps his hand held in the air, ready to try again the instant the limb comes down again. The air warps and distorts, and you think it's about to do just that, but as the space around the mage shifts and splits, you see what you can only describe as 'fractures' start to appear around him, cracking open wider and flaking away into a wide void of flashing colors that leaves your head spinning.

Reality isn't just breaking down. It's completely dissolving in and around the space where the mage is. Trying to swallow him up.

"Master!" one of the acolytes behind you shouts, and immediately rockets off to assist his teacher alongside his fellows, the same strange aura of power coating all of them as they do.

"Stay back! Do not intervene!"

The mage is now standing upon a single layer of existence atop the nothingness, and even that is slowly caving away as the rot spreads. He'll fall in soon enough, and the others certainly won't reach him in time.
Rolled 28, 40, 8 = 76 (3d100)

help him out
76. Getting a lot of rolls in the 70's to 80's range today. Anyway, this is probably going to wrap up this quest for now, so let's get on with it. Writing.
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>help him out
You move to intervene, breaking your body and driving yourself faster and faster towards the mage, who barely has a patch left to hold his ground on. You keep pushing yourself though, more and more until you start feeling...lighter?

Your body distorts and shifts, and before you know it, you've fallen over the mage, enveloping him in your mass before jumping away as the last piece of sanity violently crumbles into the nothingness, sucked away into oblivion.

You heave a sigh as you finally manage to move away to a sufficiently safe distance, and following your ordeal, you release the mage from the confines of your body, before hanging oyur wings limply, supporting yourself solely through the strength of your magic.

"Master! Master!" you hear the acolytes cry out as they dart over to the both of you, clearly worried. "Are you alright, master?"

"Tsk. Blasted welps, do I *look* okay?" the eldest mage present levels a glare at his disciples, who shift and skirt away a bit.

"Nevertheless, this little spirit managed to save me from a most unpleasant situation. So you should be giving your thanks to him. As I taught you."

The acolytes vigorously nod their heads, before turning to you, and taking small bows.

"Thank you for your assistance." what is seemingly the youngest mage, a youth with peach blonde hair and sea blue eyes offers. " Your kindness is most appreciated, spirit."

Ooooookay then. Weird, but you can deal.

Looking about, you can see that Purple, Spanko and Blackwood are making their way over to you. Thank goodness! You've been so worried!

"[Orange, are you okay?]"

"Blorble blorb blorb!" you respond cheerfully.

"Chipper as always, my lad." Blackwood comments from Purple's back, aiming a couple idle shots at a few waving bands of green-pink. "But I suspect we have little them for more exchange. Look upon our for now."

And so you do, following Blackwood's words, and it's even worse than you'd suspected at first. Where once there was desert, here lies an unfathomable ocean of strange insectoid, cephalopodic limbs, the entire landscape being drowned with them as they drift off into the infinite horizon. Everything is swamped with the unholy colorless green light, and the main 'body' of the entity has unfolded now, opening up like some twisted parody of a starfish, each radiating limb studded with feelers and meat and teeth, each point whispering strange and terrible ideas that burn their way into your mind with every phrase. And at the very heart of it, its very center, you see an eye focus on you. Hateful and eternal.

This is it. The true battle starts here. The battle for everyone and everything, both those this monster has taken and all those it intends to take should it win.

This is your last test in this oh-so nightmarish tale of a night. And Overseers willing: you're giving it the happy ending it deserves.

Let's go.

[999 Quest 13 End]
Thanks for sticking around guys. Life problems have made writing this more than a bit harder, but things should be getting better going forward.

See you all on Saturday/Sunday.
its a pleasure and take care always dude
Thanks. Well wishes to you too.

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