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"Remember your oath. Remember your oath. Remember your oath".
You pray these words, over and over and over, staring at the vending machine in an icy calm you do not truly feel.
It could be so good. You'd simply need to talk to it. Open yourself to it. Erase all distinction and Realize your Oneness. From there...

You shake yourself. Remember your oath. Your stomach protests against the sentiment but you *know* you are better than this.

One rather sobering fact upon your induction had been the information that the decline of magic was directly related to the sheer rarity and price of ingredients.
You wince at remembering just how far your last ritual set you into the red.

Best to distract yourself. You flip open your phone. Work. Work. Work would be bad. Even badly paid work is better than just stewing.

[] Exorcism. Hahahahahahhahahahaha. I must really hate myself. Or maybe it's the lack of sleep. My tongue *still* burns when I remember the words they make you speak. Def set my hair on fire that one before.

[] Pact negotiation. Was kind of a relief to learn it's a lot less lawyer-y than it sounds. Though... in hindsight it's a little insulting just how readily they recommended this to you.

[] Purge. Uhm. Well I'm ok with the thought of murdering things. I'm just not ok with being ok with that, but I guess it can bring in some decent cash.
>>
>>4801795
>[x] Pact negotiation. Was kind of a relief to learn it's a lot less lawyer-y than it sounds. Though... in hindsight it's a little insulting just how readily they recommended this to you.

Even if it’s not lawyer-y I still wanna be the Saul Goodman of the magic community.
>>
>>4801795
>[] Exorcism. Hahahahahahhahahahaha. I must really hate myself. Or maybe it's the lack of sleep. My tongue *still* burns when I remember the words they make you speak. Def set my hair on fire that one before.
>>
>>4801795
>[x] Exorcism. Hahahahahahhahahahaha. I must really hate myself. Or maybe it's the lack of sleep. My tongue *still* burns when I remember the words they make you speak. Def set my hair on fire that one before.
>>
>>4801795
>[] Exorcism. Hahahahahahhahahahaha. I must really hate myself. Or maybe it's the lack of sleep. My tongue *still* burns when I remember the words they make you speak. Def set my hair on fire that one before.
>>
Exorcism
>>
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>>4801843
>>4801845
>>4801846

You send a brief text confirming your attendance.
It seems you'll need some additional charms, but thankfully your idiot roomate actually found a way of paying her keep by helping you make the requisite paper and ink.
You smile fondly. Chaotic, not that productive but enthusiastic once you got her onto a set task.

Your product isn't the best but it holds quite a bit of power. In fact you could probably do Restricted Ceremonies with them but why would you?
You're an honourable woman of the craft!
Trifold curses upon you for even thinking such horrendous thoughts.

The location is so stereotypical you almost suspect you fell for a prank. Old subway tunnels. Bunch of gear strewn this way and that. People in conspiously clean suits roaming about.

You ignore the commotion and head straight to the person your Sight points out as having immediate significance to you.
Sight might be very simplifying. You don't really see, you just... Feel the way things fit. Or somehting?
It doesn't make sense, it makes your head hurt and as long as it works there's no need for hysterics.

"I heard there was need of me".
You give the wiry man in overalls your warmest smile. He of course knows who you are, wearing your garb as you do, and you really want him at ease before letting his image of what a Witch is cloud his actions.

He swallows, then forces a smile of his own as he peers down at you. You really should find a way to make yourself taller one day.

"That's right, Wise One".
You smile inwardly at the honourific. You must've done something right!

"Seems like some kind of..."
He scratches his head, clearly trying to remember the myriad of terms the nice suits outside no doubt threw at him.

"Opening, I guess? Hell dogs, you know the things? They came out when we were digging and--"
You lift one hand, shusshing him.
Not because you kjow everything you need to know - thought that seems likely - but because your Sight is showing you something right that moment that is too faint to bear any distraction from.

It feels like... the surf upon a cold shore, but *draining* rather than refreshing, crisp coldness replaced by a syrupy lukewarmness that threatens to forever stain my flesh with its repugnant miasma.

If it's not a rift to some kind of literal hell it's certainly quite close.

"--I'm sorry. Had to focus. I think I can help you".
You steady yourself, fold your hands before you and bow lightly.

Time to think of a strategy.

[] High risk, low investment. There's a bunch of pretty nasty things I can do to make this operation a success without making me drop money I don't have on precautions I don't need.
[] Medium risk, high investment. This is going to cost me but I can still recoup it if this goes right.

[] Low risk, split return. I could ask for help. But splitting this four ways or more... this is pretty much a last resort.
>>
>>4801869
>[] High risk, low investment. There's a bunch of pretty nasty things I can do to make this operation a success without making me drop money I don't have on precautions I don't need.
>>
>>4801869
>[x] High risk, low investment. There's a bunch of pretty nasty things I can do to make this operation a success without making me drop money I don't have on precautions I don't need.

Life’s a gamble.
>>
>>4801877
https://youtu.be/r_0myqFEwl0
>>
>>4801869
>[] High risk, low investment. There's a bunch of pretty nasty things I can do to make this operation a success without making me drop money I don't have on precautions I don't need.
Curse my gambling addiction
>>
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>>4801877
>>4801871
You really can't afford being choosy right now, as much as it goes against everything you're supposed to be, but if you dig deeply down enough?
There is a part of you that secretly *relishes* a chance to try your skills at such a strong target.

As you walk deeper into the tunnel, the Realness of your surrounding grows hazier and hazier, until it feels like you stand in a mirror maze with dozens of distorted versions of yourself trundling through dozens of tunnels along beneath and across from you.

Time to get started.
Weren't it for the wards woven throughout your uniform you'd be, at best, doubling over in nausea right now, but it's not perfect protection.

Let's begin with
[] A song to adorn my form and drive back the unreality around. I know it decently well but it desires my attention whenever we walk forth.
[] A Recital, to reveal to my mind the truth behind it all. It should work well, as long as I don't blind myself with all the new information.
[] A Curse to *bite* into the hostile mists and hook, if lucky, something that can scream.
...did I just think that? Brrr. It's... not a good word. Allowing myself to know it...
>>
>>4801982
>[x] A song to adorn my form and drive back the unreality around. I know it decently well but it desires my attention whenever we walk forth.
>>
>>4801982
A curse!
>>
>>4801993
>>4802034
Roll me 1d20!

(Thoughts thus far?)
>>
>>4801982
[X] A Curse to *bite* into the hostile mists and hook, if lucky, something that can scream.
>>
Rolled 18 (1d20)

>>4802037
Thoughts so far: fun, interested where it leads
>>
>>4802037
It seems like a unique idea for a quest, but I can’t stop think that the MC looks like Himiko.
>>
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>>4802043
>>4802050
It begins with a shiver at the bottom of your soles that turns into a network of burning trails as it spirals upwards to create a core of terrifying, awesome, brilliant, furious *beauty* that swirls and pulses in time with your furious thoughts.

'Speak me. :)'

You nearly double over. That luscious, wondrous, *enchanting* Sending grasps deeply after every last cell of yours, caressing each one with tendrils of silver-sweet corruption.

No going back now.
First, you must clad it in the right pacts.

'BY writ and right, hear me, Avenging Mother!
Let my will be true, my judgement just!
BY thy name I--'

And then you let *GO*.
The rest of the incantation tears itself from your throat, a cascade of syllables filled with the grimmest of rebukes against all morals and sanity spilling forth in an unholy screech whose foulness causes the very air to freeze into a multicoloured glass webb that shatters into snow that burns itself away, the explosion sucking every molecule of air into nothingness as the light itself dies.

You're blind. You feel no floor beneath you. Your throat... your throat is proof you're still alive.
You can feel it bleeding. Worse, you're rather certain that isn't blood like it's supposed to be.
You count your heartbeats for a short while until they stop coming quite as fast.

This better not have been for nothing!
You turn in a circle slowly, but there's obviously not a lot to be found out that way.

Let's hope no mortals got hurt this time.
Maybe make something they can read.
Now.

[] Do the crab walk and hope to find a way back
[] Let's find a way around this and keep fighting
[] Let's find blind, there's ways
>>
>>4802062
(Unique was the idea, hope it doesn't seem tryhard)
(Can't say I know a lot about DGRP)
>>4802050
(Love to hear it).
>>
>>4802133
>[x] Let's find a way around this and keep fighting
>>
>>4802133
>[X] Let's find a way around this and keep fighting
No use in backing out now
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>>4802133
>Let's find blind, there's ways
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>>4802133
>[X] Let's find a way around this and keep fighting
When you're going through hell; keep going.
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>>4802133
>[] Let's find a way around this and keep fighting
>>
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>>4802559
>>4802339
>>4802288
>>4802279
'Blood of my mothers, blood of my kin.
Deliver upon my truth in this my darkest hour.
Speak out against the sins commited against this your daughter.
Becoming an avenging tide that sweeps away those before my...'

Possibilities swirl before your eyes as you lay power into the utterance, until you find an object - a shovel perhaps - that shifts in ways you neither understand nor feel capable of recreating later, forming what *feels* like it would be an adequate weapon.

You stumble forward, though as you advance your stumble becomes an easy if careful stroll, your new object of power pointing out minute adjustments in your stance and path, making you hyper conscious of wind and moisture and the very energies in the air.

Just ahead, you feel it.
It's like a puss-filled scratch across the belly of the world.
Within, presences emanate pure *hatred* like miniature stars like pulsing hearts, their awareness not yet fixated on you.

It seems your earlier curse has still have them in dissaray.

[] Envelop them in weaves of promises and taunts as you slowly push them back from whence they came
[] Burn them from existence with a hail of flaming charms
[] Clad yourself in a form of vengeance, at the risk of letting it subsume you.

(Our poor protagonist has to put up with a lot already)
>>
>>4802908
>[x] Envelop them in weaves of promises and taunts as you slowly push them back from whence they came
We went through a lot, it's fine to get a little cocky
>>
>>4802908
>] Envelop them in weaves of promises and taunts as you slowly push them back from whence they came
>>
>>4802908
>[] Burn them from existence with a hail of flaming charms
>>
>>4802908
>[] Envelop them in weaves of promises and taunts as you slowly push them back from whence they came
>>
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>>4802984
The ensuing cackle seems deranged even to you. Blessed mother but that curse took a lot out of you. Even now you can feel minute rivulets of corruption ooze out your skin. You'll probably be fine, but everything's got a price.

You got this. You summon up the smell of a grand feast of sacrifice within you soul, swaying from side to side as a hummed melody burns tje vision into the air in furious, predatory red outlines.

You laugh again. Your Evil. It calls out to them. You can feel the reverie tighten around the foreign infestation, as you allow your sense of triumph to set alight each web of dreams into the daark conflagration of a violent nightmare.

They scream, now.

You smile, then *push*, thousands of entrancing nexi tightening at the same time.
"Gooooot you~"

You can feel the struggle through the bond, but you're ontop now and you quickly encapsulate the rest of the infection.

[] Absorb its power. Maybe not the best ideas, but the ths day was nothing but bad ideas.
[] Drive. It. Out. Then heal the wound in existence.
[] Try to purify it.
>>
>>4803074
>>4803069
>>4803043
(ooh, sorry that you came too late!)
(Welcome, if you're new!)
>>
>>4803332
[] Try to purify it.
>>
>>4803332
>[] Absorb its power. Maybe not the best ideas, but the ths day was nothing but bad ideas.
>>
>>4803332
[] Drive. It. Out. Then heal the wound in existence.

This seems like the simplest, easiest choice that doesn't involve self-harm. That is of course a guess.

We already pushed our luck with the high risk option, it seems we've won, I'd rather not risk failing or more self-harm now.

Though it would help to know the context of this situation or what the various terms written even mean.
>>
>>4803332
[] Drive. It. Out. Then heal the wound in existence.
not against purifying either.
>>
>>4803332
>[x] Drive. It. Out. Then heal the wound in existence.
>>
>>4803332
>[] Drive. It. Out. Then heal the wound in existence.
>>
>>4803332
>[x] Drive. It. Out. Then heal the wound in existence.
>>
>>4803332
>[] Drive. It. Out. Then heal the wound in existence.
>>
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>>4803452
>>4803449
>>4803441
>>4803432
Your will pushes against the pustule, your spite surging through the weave of nightmares as you *make* it move.
For a few moments you feel like crashing it like an egg and injesting the fluids, but you shudder a heartbeat later at the thoughts that managed to creep inside.

Instead, you push it through the tear, drop the sympathetic connection to the cocoon and quickly command it to attract the infested edges on the way out, sealing them shut for your new working to fix them.

The tunnel falls silent.

You hate how much you miss the darkness already. You'll probably have to..
Well.
Suddenly you feel a lot more clear-headed.
Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.
A visit to, well. Him.
That's the only way this cascade of *disasters* inflicted upon your body and soul are getting dealt with.

Your sour mood makes it hard to summon up the sacred melodies to knit together the last of existence with earth and spirit essence, but after about 25 minutes you're done and stumble outside.

"I've left my contact details in your pocket" you say to the approaching signal of the commissioner. That brief contact should be enough to reinforce the curse should they try to stiff you. But you're decently certain that won't be necessary.

You suddenly feel tired. You're still perceiving the world as a warren of outlines and suggested shapes, a fact you begin to dearly regret and would likely more if you were presently more human.

Overall though?
Not the worst mission.
You slowly turn homewards, wondering how to proceed.

[] Go straight home. Assess damages, maybe do a few exercises before falling into bed.
[] Mother beyond, I need healing. I hate having to go to... Him, but it's my best option.
[] Pick up some supplies and information at the Henge Market and then go home.

While travelling you

[] Purify myself as well as you can. Risky but should work.
[] Go over available spells and what state they're in as well as what work needs to be done.
[] Just. Sleep.
>>
>>4808124
>[x] Mother beyond, I need healing. I hate having to go to... Him, but it's my best option.
>[x] Go over available spells and what state they're in as well as what work needs to be done.
>>
>>4808129
+1
>>
>>4808124
>[] Mother beyond, I need healing. I hate having to go to... Him, but it's my best option.

>[] Just. Sleep.
>>
>>4808124
>] Mother beyond, I need healing. I hate having to go to... Him, but it's my best option.
Go over available spells and what state they're in as well as what work needs to be done.
>>
>>4808124
>[] Pick up some supplies and information at the Henge Market and then go home.
[] Purify myself as well as you can. Risky but should work.
>>
>>4808129
>>4808171
>>4808186
>>4808199
Well. You certainly don't relish the thought, but neither do you want to be around and conscious when your human side reasserts itself because you have an inkling it might not relish your prolonged blindness.

Judging the effort to operate the ticket machine by touch more than the one required to get around a potential fine - probably still curse after effects making you think that - you settle into the tramway, leaning back to assess your arsenal. You're just... making good use of the time, not distracting yourself from your destination, honest!

Clasping your hands together, you call upon your memories.

Utterances: An Utterance is a sacred spell, also known as a "Theurgy". It oftentimes calls down power from both yourself and your bloodline. Its effects are inexact, often working in difficult to predict ways that you need to work around.
Presently you have [Word of Guidance], that can rearrange the circumstances.
Word of Guidance may be used about once every moonrise, though piousness increases that number.

Curses.
Curses draw upon the essence of Chaos, Hell or The Abyss (none are quite accurate but so are few things), being a malevolent wish, intent or entity trapped within a word carefully crafted around their form.
Curses taint the soul of the person who speaks them. Different parts of Witch culture take different stances towards curses.
While only very fringe elements consider them from a purely utilitarian or mechanistic perspective, a broader movement considers them acceptable *sometimes*, with usage often being important to judging a Witch's individual worth.

Curses are "anchored" to Curse Marks somewhere on the Witch's body. This represents the spiritual pattern the Curse invokes, as otherwise each Curse would be single-use before requiring its essence to be recaptured.

You currently have the Curse Marks for Tenebrous Adjudicator (a relatively minor, non-sapient curse you use to [r]enforce your contracts, as the magic for true Geass-making eludes you) and Wrath of the Chained God.
Both would presently be unwise to use, as the offensive use of the second is directly responsible for most of your present state.

Charms.
Charms are perhaps the most versatile, when one knows how to use them.
Being one of the most unique Witch-style magics, they cover a broad array of shockingly diverse abilities, all predicted upon investing some of the Witch's soul and being into the surroundings.

Charms are among the more mood-dependent abilities, with certain characters simply being incompatible with certain spells.

You presently have Shawl of the Earth Mother, a song that wraps you in protective layers of confusion and errant thoughts.
You also have Crone's Ensnarement, a rare pain/pleasure Charm that reaches out to grab ethereal constructs within the visions you weave for them, then turns the dreams into nightmares once it's taken root.

Your Charms are decently powerful and not *strictly* limited use.
>>
>>4808199
>>4808186
>>4808171
>>4808129
You nearly missed your stop, had it not been for the fact that it is the last one on this line.
A blend of exhaustion, trepidation and relief washes over you as you blindly stumble off, making your way by rote to His dwelling place.

It's hard to miss, even in your state. An uncomfortable *heat* emanates from the place, and you just follow it through winding streets and damp back alleys, until you can feel the presence just ahead.

And then.
It happens.
Like a tornado of flame He rushes towards you. You can picture him. Grinning like a buffoon, arms stretched wide. Shirt barely containing bulging muscles that would just feel *so* good to-- ANYWAY.

Curses, curses, curses.
What to do, what to do.

[] Let him hug me. I'm not in the best position to avoid it and... honestly. I could probably do with one. Espe-- even from him.
[] Do my best to side-step him. That'll teach him.
[] Shout something. Hope it stops him.
>>
>>4811260
>[] Do my best to side-step him. That'll teach him.

No thanks, BRO
>>
>>4811260
>[] Do my best to side-step him. That'll teach him.
>>
>>4811260
>[] Do my best to side-step him. That'll teach him.
>>
>>4811260
>] Do my best to side-step him. That'll teach him.
>>
>>4811260
>[] Let him hug me. I'm not in the best position to avoid it and... honestly. I could probably do with one. Espe-- even from him.

Papa bear
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>>4811260
>[] Let him hug me. I'm not in the best position to avoid it and... honestly. I could probably do with one. Espe-- even from him.
>>
>>4811260
>Let him hug me.
>>
>>4811260
>[] Do my best to side-step him. That'll teach him.
>>
>>4811904
>>4811529
>>4811527
>>4811526
>>4811510
You stumble for a few steps before his aura is close enough to sense his next movements, then pivot just enough to bring you out of range for the next few steps, followed by a complicated series of hops to ensure he doesn't manage to adjust his trajectory in time.

"HOW IS MY FAVOURITE--"

You can feel the air displaced as he steps past you, regretting that you can't see the no-doubt amazing look on his face.
He gasps indignantly, but comes around fast enough. That's what you always liked about him; No matter the situation, he could always sober up quickly and move onto the important topic at hand.

"...you look beat up", he says, suddenly concerned.
You wince, but there's no use denying it. After tall, that is why you're here, and he's your best shot at getting it fixed.

"Stubborn crowd-- haaah".
You wince. The quip turns sour in your mouth as another jolt of sweet-hot corruption lances through your being.
You sway, his strong hands steadying you for but a moment before letting go. You note the propriety absentmindedly and nod your thanks to where you can feel his presence.

"I see", he simply states. He seems to have noticed that you can't, opting to make his steps ring out just a little louder than usual as he turns to lead you into his home.
Maybe this day isn't going that badly after all.

Inside, the familiar smell of mugwort, myrrh and half a dozen other censer herbs greets you like a blanket. The two of you take the familiar route down into the basement. You think you're pretty good at suppressing the rising panic that befalls you whenever you step into the warded room anything other than squeaky-clean in soul and mind, but it's likely never going to go away entirely.
He pulls the door closed ever-so-softly, and after some probing-about (he seems quite content to let you figure it on your own, and quite frankly, you aprpeciate the gesture) you find the soft plush chair across from his own.

"Alright. What can I help you with?"

[] Ask for a restoration of your eye sight. Try to hide the rest.
[] Tell everything. The curse. The backlash. Everything. Get thoroughly purified, or at least as much as makes sense.

By the way.
What is your name?
[] Nori
[] Mara
[] Ewa
[] Serene
[] Other
>>
>>4816686
>[] Tell everything. The curse. The backlash. Everything. Get thoroughly purified, or at least as much as makes sense.
>[] Ewa
>>
>>4816686
>[] Tell everything. The curse. The backlash. Everything. Get thoroughly purified, or at least as much as makes sense.
>[] Nori
>>
>>4816686
>[] Tell everything. The curse. The backlash. Everything. Get thoroughly purified, or at least as much as makes sense.

>[] Ewa
>>
>>4816686
>[] Tell everything. The curse. The backlash. Everything. Get thoroughly purified, or at least as much as makes sense.
>[] Ewa

Welcome back, qm! Was worried for a moment there.
>>
>>4817126
(Thank you, it's good to be back).
(So was I).
(Sorry for that).
(Also I forgot the thread autosages if you lose your IP. This is going to be a problem).
>>
>>4816686
>Tell everything. The curse. The backlash. Everything. Get thoroughly purified, or at least as much as makes sense.
> Serene
>>
>>4816686
>[] Tell everything. The curse. The backlash. Everything. Get thoroughly purified, or at least as much as makes sense.

>[] Ewa
>>
>>4817191
>Tell everything.
>Nori
>>
>>4816686
>[] Tell everything. The curse. The backlash. Everything. Get thoroughly purified, or at least as much as makes sense.
>[] Nori
>>
>[] Ask for a restoration of your eye sight. Try to hide the rest.
>Nori
>>
koan where you at?!
>>
>>4832486
(I am still here, life went weird places)
(I will aim to update tonight).
>>
>>4837863
Dead