Your soul cries out in ecstasy as it reaches new heights of power. You have advanced to level 142. You have reached the illustrious level of 92nd step to Divinity.
Your soul cries out in ecstasy as it reaches new heights of power. You have advanced to level 142. You have reached the illustrious level of 92nd step to Divinity.
∘ [System]: Running queued balance command: G GOLD ∘ You pick up 178 gold sovereigns. ∘ [System]: Running queued balance command: PUT GOLD IN PACK ∘ You put 178 gold sovereigns in a fur-trimmed knapsack.
∘ Deftly a mhun conjuror summons a terrifying illusion, striking fear deep within your heart. ∘ You have been afflicted with fear.
∘ There is nothing to fear but fear itself.
∘ You swing a Scimitar of Falcons at a mhun conjuror with all your might. ∘ You have scored a WORLD-SHATTERING CRITICAL hit!!! ∘ You swing a Scimitar of Falcons at a mhun conjuror with all your might. ∘ You have scored a WORLD-SHATTERING CRITICAL hit!!! ∘ You have slain a mhun conjuror, retrieving the corpse. ∘ A large pile of sovereigns spills from the corpse. ∘ [Rage]: +4.2. Total: 10.9 ∘ You see nothing in it. Level: 86.19% Health Left: 0%
"All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us."
First, healed enemies of their afflictions, then proceeded to poison them. In a vicious circle of psychological warfare.
"Alas. Alas for Hamlin. The Mayor sent east, west, north, and south. To offer the Piper by word of mouth. Wherever it was men's lot to find him, silver and gold to his heart's content. If only he'd return the way he went."
Well... here's a sentence I never thought I'd type: Klendathu performed impromptu dentistry on a Chaos Lady.
Spoilered for utter grimness:
Sourced from the gaping maw of Hecate, the Crone Queen, this cracked and yellowed tooth emanates a sickening green miasma. Blackened roots hang from the middle of the broken canal, while a ghastly stench rises from the decaying root and its dangling nerves. It weighs 3 ounce(s). It bears the distinctive mark of Hecate, Mother of Crones (a denizen).
Tharos, the Announcer of Delos shouts, "It's near the end of the egghunt and I still haven't figured out how to pronounce Clean-dat-hoo."
Comments
I don’t bash, I bounty hunt
Penwize has cowardly forfeited the challenge to mortal combat issued by Atalkez.
Git gud, noob
Git gud, noob
Dunn tells you, "I hate you."
(Party): You say, "Bad plan coming right up."
Then i'd see Aegoth twitching and blacking out from over-consumption.
You have reached the illustrious level of 92nd step to Divinity.
[spoiler]Don't hate me. Well done![/spoiler]
Tecton-Today at 6:17 PM
∘ [System]: Running queued balance command: G GOLD
∘ You pick up 178 gold sovereigns.
∘ [System]: Running queued balance command: PUT GOLD IN PACK
∘ You put 178 gold sovereigns in a fur-trimmed knapsack.
∘ Deftly a mhun conjuror summons a terrifying illusion, striking fear deep within your heart.
∘ You have been afflicted with fear.
∘ There is nothing to fear but fear itself.
∘ You swing a Scimitar of Falcons at a mhun conjuror with all your might.
∘ You have scored a WORLD-SHATTERING CRITICAL hit!!!
∘ You swing a Scimitar of Falcons at a mhun conjuror with all your might.
∘ You have scored a WORLD-SHATTERING CRITICAL hit!!!
∘ You have slain a mhun conjuror, retrieving the corpse.
∘ A large pile of sovereigns spills from the corpse.
∘ [Rage]: +4.2. Total: 10.9
∘ You see nothing in it. Level: 86.19% Health Left: 0%
First, healed enemies of their afflictions, then proceeded to poison them. In a vicious circle of psychological warfare.
Bringin me one step closer to full order member!
Tecton-Today at 6:17 PM
Spoilered for utter grimness:
It weighs 3 ounce(s).
It bears the distinctive mark of Hecate, Mother of Crones (a denizen).
I don't know what to say, but maybe she's just not that in to you