Настучать в бубен / Hit the tambourine: Глава 12-2

He hung in meditation, trying to suppress the strange feelings (there wasn't much negativity from the murder of the two rapists) and marveling at his sudden impulsiveness, until the figure, which turned out, not surprisingly, to be female and, according to his perception of the real world, even pretty, first kicked the still twitching bodies, and then knelt down and prayed so fervently that her spirit, teeming with feeling and will, cast visible glimmers, as if the candle were trembling, sending gratitude and faith to the object of worship. To whom exactly, alas, it was not clear, but certainly not to Stepan, which made him feel very offended for a brief moment, so offended that he almost cried, catching himself in time to regain control of his emotions. His body was gone, and his hormones weren't spewing out, but he was more stunned than he'd been by teenage love and breakups. Though, he had never really felt emotions at such an age, which was why they called him an emotionless chump and a radish.

Camrad_RIP 13.06.24 в 17:55

Leaving the girl saved by the will of divine providence to beg for forgiveness, he went to meet the currents of the ether again and was carried away somewhere else, again closer to Dantra, and from there down the real stream. There, hovering at the very boundary between this mega-stream and the more stable part of the spiritual world, the boy replenished his strength, thinking over his actions once more. Still, he became more impulsive in this state, more prone to risk and impulses of the soul, as if drunk or under some kind of drug. Whether it was the effect of the freed and happy spiritual body, or he was really used to restraining his physical desires, and here it was not biology and hormones, but something higher. Knowledge said that the problem was typical for all adepts of shamanism and just those who liked to leave the body without leaving the chat room, but still he was a little disappointed in himself, because he expected help from the spiritual transformation in this direction. Overcoming the attack of self-deprecating and self-compassionate mood, he consoled himself with the fact that simple shamans after the first, well, second, experience of such practices should have been emotionally overwhelmed.

Camrad_RIP 13.06.24 в 17:59

The new journey along the river and its etheric reflection were much more difficult because he was again attacked unsuccessfully, now by water spirits, looking like a cloud of misty body in the first case and a large amorphous blob in the second. He managed to fend off the first blow, awkwardly but effectively swung the second, ripping out a chunk of misty body and forcing the mist to flee. The third blow was exemplary in its active defense, throwing the spirit right into the tentacles of the guard. He missed the fact he was no longer holding himself in the correct awareness of the current, having fallen a couple of layers down at once. The spirits, which only protected his life, silently and with incredible grace followed him, seeming to feel even better here, and he experienced all the delights of being a frog at great depths.

Camrad_RIP 15.06.24 в 08:02

He tried to swim out twice, but the first time he almost fell in deeper, where he would have had to evacuate far away, and in doing so he baited something large and strong enough for his jellyfish to engage in a brief and intense battle without waiting for contact, quickly tearing something incomprehensible and evil to shreds. The second run was almost successful, and he even saw images of a very large and beautiful city, with high stone walls, gorgeous architecture, and even more gorgeous slums, but the city was full of not only beauty, but also magic, and on the magic he ran into some kind of signal network, or protection from river spirits, which was located in the river port, or rather on one of the docked ships. Judging by the fact that here the etheric currents became furious, for it was at this point that Dantra merged with her younger sister, Mlatra, that was the first of Stepan's visits to the center of local life, the glorious Free City of Dantmark.

Camrad_RIP 15.06.24 в 08:26

Maybe it was a good thing he'd stumbled upon a simple river-spirit defense when he'd ducked out so unluckily, because there was a lot of magic in the city, and he could have stumbled into something more dangerous. This defense was so weak that even his reflexive strengthening of his spiritual body was enough to avoid injury. The shaman, who had not yet stabilized his position on the layer of high spheres closest to me, immediately fell again. This time he did not try to escape from the stream at any cost, concentrating on getting used to it, as well as on the occasional attacking small spirits that occasionally disturbed him, but most of his efforts were spent on keeping himself at the right level of the depth of the High Sphere. The jellyfish that covered him were doing a fine job of keeping him from distracting or injuring his charge, and Stepan was experiencing a world that was still new to him.

Camrad_RIP 15.06.24 в 16:47

This place-state was extremely close to the water sphere, but at the same time, the persistent presence of a reflection of the real world was still felt. It was as if he was floating in the colorful and rainbow-colored stream of a mighty river, penetrated by ethereal swirls, noting the predominance of water shades around, but he also saw pieces of the real world: houses and people, banks and watering holes, with animals coming to them, a spreading willow bending over the river, the enchanted bottom of a floating boat, dead bodies and blood given to the river after a bloody battle. The etheric whirlwinds, which could injure a simple shaman, did not harm him, with protection from transformation and fortitude of subtle bodies, but allowed him to replenish his strength faster and better, taking advantage of the high indicator in the “Spirit” characteristic. However, these forces had to be spent just as slowly, mercilessly squeezing out reserve after reserve in order to maintain the required degree of immersion and not collapse even deeper. There, where even the jellyfish will no longer be able to protect the shaman properly, and all that remains is to call the Fugitive to pull himself back out. But there are places there, in the depths of the spheres, from which the Fugitive will not be able to pull out his shaman, no matter how hard he tries.

Camrad_RIP 15.06.24 в 16:50

The only thing that really pissed him off was the spirits, especially the brainless little ones, who were always trying to hit him. They sensed he was strong, but defenseless and alien to this place, thus the perfect prey. Spirits stronger and smarter also attacked, but they either retreated, having met with a rebuff, realizing the stranger was still not so toothless, or they were torn to pieces by jellyfish. And with the little things he had to deal with himself, each time getting more and more accustomed to this kind of battle mode. He involuntarily imagined how both jellyfish, when fighting with that annoying dog-horse, punched their absent faces with a facepalm, looking at how their employer helplessly floundered in the streams of the force.

Camrad_RIP 15.06.24 в 16:54

Several times he found peculiar mole holes, leading, as it seemed to him, upward, closer to Reality. However, they did not look like holes at all. Sometimes it was a door, a hole, just a whirlpool turned inside out, and once it was a small boat inviting him to get into it and go wherever he wanted. The latter even tried to press on his brains. Still, paranoid Stepan coped with the mental blow of some frankly insidious and sharpened against shaman guests, though not without difficulty. In a flash of anger that grew even thicker after he managed to capture the frustrated hunger of the pretend boat-gate predatory spirit from a very dark sphere of deception and with a tinge of not just aquatic focus, but pure depth. After thinking for a while, reflecting on another, more subtle and cunning tactic of influencing thinking through the spiritual body, causing the very aggression, as well as estimating the strength of this spirit. Stepan grinned with a distorted and fanged grin, giving orders to the jellyfish.

Camrad_RIP 15.06.24 в 16:58

It was a tentacle rape. And also an explanation for who was the boss of the gym, and who was just a wrong-headed soy cuckold. The two jellyfish, which had been following the shaman unnoticed and hiding their presence, turned out to be much more dangerous than a single shit, which, when it dropped its disguise, turned out to be not a boat at all, but some kind of fantasy-inspired underwater fishing fish. The spirit was humiliated, insulted, torn, and even eaten, and both jellyfish clearly did it not on orders, but with pleasure, almost with gusto. Probably some sort of conflict between their realms, especially since this individual seemed more suited to meeting in the sea rather than in Dantra's spiritual reflection. Jellyfish were not river creatures either, though. Stepan swam up to the nearer spheres using another exit not connected to water. In his perception looked like a rope ladder hanging in the middle of the ether currents. It even wobbled and twitched after this ether current, but neither close scrutiny, nor scanning by all means available in such a state did not show a trick, and that's why the shaman went up. In fact, of course, it was not a staircase, but an image of such, an imprint of condensed ether, and even passed through the prism of perception of the human mind. Each shaman would see this image in his way, although the rope ladder would still prevail, just differing in small things, like the color of the rope and the type of fiber.

Camrad_RIP 15.06.24 в 17:03

The ascent, due to the rightly chosen tunnel, proceeded without cost or danger, even too easily, because in the end the current literally pushed him higher and higher, directly into the real world. If the witnesses had been around, they would have been surprised to see a strange and blurred humanoid silhouette appear out of thin air, with an underwater Kraken tentacle sticking out of its back and swearing in several languages. For better or worse, there were no witnesses around, so Stepan, who began to lose reserve rapidly after the fall into reality, dived a little deeper with the same swearing, ceasing to bleed power into the surrounding space. Still, without a body and in a creaturely world, the spiritual traveler, unfit for such extreme conditions, had some chances of ending his out-of-body adventure early, if not dead.

Camrad_RIP 15.06.24 в 17:06

This time he was oriented better, and the young man suspected he had inadvertently unlocked or even enhanced one or more talents, which made it so easy for him to adjust to changes in his surroundings. It couldn't be compared to the full assimilation of knowledge, true, but even such a fragmentary and instinctive touch to the system base gave some very tangible advantages. All these thoughts didn't stop him from enjoying the scenery around him, the view of another, much larger and more beautiful city - albeit one with traces of a not-so-old battle - and the sea. coast. Stepan, who had left Dantra's reflection just in time, did not even think of approaching the sea, because it would be much harder to get out of its etheric reflection, mighty and vast, than from the image of even the mightiest river. The sea ether is not so turbulent, but it is very vast and confusing, one can wander there without beacons for a long time, and its main beacon, the body, and the clearing can be distinguished from here with considerable difficulty. And what is the use of knowing the exact direction, if there is no possibility to overcome the resistance of the higher spheres and move in that very direction?

Camrad_RIP 15.06.24 в 17:20

Instead of going for a swim or getting closer to the very magical city, where there would surely be a lot of protection, Stepan started to explore the surroundings look for various interesting things in the nearby reflections and space around the city, and to have fun. The occupation is dangerous because in such a state the shaman's sense of time floats and it is easy to get so carried away that you do not even notice the death of his body. Death from exhaustion. Easy, it was true, but not for the Earthman, who had a real system clock, pumped up to two. That's what he needed, an accurate knowledge of time and dates, which could not be blocked and which could not be forgotten, unless it was on purpose. His body, stuffed with special alchemy, supported by a good dozen specific spirits and the same number of unkind spirits, and even recently doubled its corporeality, could survive for a week or two without food and water, only on the prepared support. It could also last three, but with no guarantee, so Stepan estimated a decade and a half for his adventure. He's being over-insured.

Camrad_RIP 15.06.24 в 17:25

And, by the way, he had already lost three days. Time flowed strangely in this state, his consciousness was too focused on one thing, and it was quite possible to spend seven hours and thirty-two minutes just watching a cherry blossom. A cherry tree that blossomed in winter and gave berries at the same time, whose color was reflected in the higher realms, even though the cherry tree had long ago been burned by lightning and in Reality there was only a rotted piece of blackened trunk as thick as a man's leg. The cherry tree still blossomed and bore fruit, as if it had awakened spirituality in itself at the moment of the element's strike and, having died physically, had no time to realize it spiritually, and continued its existence in a new form.

Camrad_RIP 15.06.24 в 17:27

Stepan even carefully plucked a few petals and berries with his working limb, bringing each flower or berry just as carefully to one of the reflected segments of the belt. Every fifth tablet contained not only standard defenses and incantations but also a kind of storage for those reagents, which in the real world can not exist at all. He couldn't help but taste one berry, having checked it beforehand, feeling as if it was not even the taste, but the very concept of cherry taste as such, its idealized image. It seemed to him for a moment that in this chance encounter with the tree that refused to die, in the very image of the cherry, there was something else, something important, like a sign from above, but he was unable to catch the elusive thought.
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For the next few days, Stepan searched for different bright places and found a couple of wild sources of magic, from one of which he even recharged himself, having made an agreement with its keeper, also a spirit, rather stupid, but strong and good-natured. How could he not be good-natured, if behind the back of Stepan, who had come to speak, hung the jellyfish spirits. He also met another spirit of the natural sphere, neither light nor dark, but neutral, looking like a tree creeping slowly on its own roots, with a lush, blue crown and a puffy face. Stepan had just fought off a couple of large leeches, multiplying the agile creatures by zero on his own, and didn't immediately notice that the tree trunk he was approaching was a kind of sapient. The negotiations were surprisingly friendly, even if the spirit did not agree to join Stepan's retinue, but gave him a couple of acorn-like fruits, also spiritual. A valuable reagent and an opportunity to plant somewhere these little trees that grow only in the spiritual world, then pruning the harvest from them. And for the spirit the opportunity to collect parental tax from these seedlings, feeding itself. They parted mutually satisfied with each other.

Camrad_RIP 13.06.24 в 07:12

Time passed, and with each hour it became easier and easier to keep concentration, to maintain his existence, to feel his body and the totems created in the clearing more and more clearly and vividly. He was even beginning to think cautiously that he might be able to return by himself, by pointing at this radar, thus saving the Fugitive's summons and then repeating the expedition once more. Sooner than expected. But all good things have to come to an end, every light streak is followed by a dark one, and sometimes such a zebra ends with a horse's ass that is no longer striped. Such a moment came for Stepan, although, as it is customary to say in the classics, nothing portended trouble.

Camrad_RIP 13.06.24 в 07:08

* * *

Camrad_RIP 11.06.24 в 18:56

He found the strange place by chance, it was very well disguised, but at this very moment his disguise had loosened, so Stepan's spirit felt some disturbance and an inflow of power from somewhere outside. He lazily turning around and changing the direction of movement, jumping from one current to another, and without the awkward rolls of a pregnant seal in the desert. Walking-swimming-crawling-moving on the sensed power, expecting to meet another spiritual plant or the rookery of some spirit useful for communication, he did not forget about the possibility of running into another trap. The guard jellyfish, fed by his power, floated phlegmatically behind his back in maximum stealth mode. His combat limb switched to the clawed and fearsome hand mode, as if Freddy Krueger had grown a few extra elbow joints, and all his perceptions were diligently looking for a threat.

Camrad_RIP 13.06.24 в 07:16

He did not immediately find the almost missing entrance, even its trace, assuming that it was no longer a trap, but just an accidental and spontaneous spiritual pocket formed around, say, some mole hole or just a specific source. He was wrong, though he was right. It was indeed a place of power, a spiritual pocket cutting off a part of the territory of the spheres from the general currents, but it was not created naturally and not due to spontaneous fluctuations. This thing had been created, made by hand and with a lot of care, no worse than Stepan himself had put effort into the creation of his glade.

Camrad_RIP 13.06.24 в 07:34

Well, or rather, it’s still worse, because the young man would not have allowed such crap.

Camrad_RIP 11.06.24 в 18:57

Maybe.

Camrad_RIP 11.06.24 в 18:57

Or, on the contrary, it’s better, because Stepan could not repeat part of what he saw.

Camrad_RIP 11.06.24 в 18:58

More likely.

Camrad_RIP 11.06.24 в 18:58

The place looked like another clearing, both forested and, probably, plucked from a small forest somewhere reflected in the spheres, but at the same time it was soaked in the spirit of the steppe, the grassy sea and the dry, mighty wind. The totem standing in the center was not bad, though it was relatively fresh and obviously made with mistakes. Even though Stepan only knew the base of this direction, but he had the basic class skills developed up to the limit. This place was dedicated to the wind, only to it, mostly of its steppe shades, although there were hot desert dry winds, and cold winter blizzards too, but the basis, the basis was the wind. It was felt that this place was created not at once, but gradually, little by little, that protective and guarding constructions were built here, but there was no order in them, everything was done too unevenly. The young man had an absurd idea, as if this place had been created by an experienced and strong shaman, but at the same time in his free time from the main tasks, while most of the practice and development took place on a more suitable site. This understanding was evident in the types of bound spirits, in the marks of the calls, in the traces left behind - not a hidden secret laboratory, but simply a place where one could test one's own theories and not take resources away from the main totems, especially if they were now occupied by older colleagues and relatives.

Camrad_RIP 13.06.24 в 07:38

It is quite logical, especially if you have all your relatives talking to spirits and you do not want to show your personal research in front of them, or even just interfere. Such an image came out, persistent and, quite possibly, wrong. And he did not doubt even for a moment that the creator of this place was not weaker, if not stronger than Stepan. Even though his connection with the spirits was very strong, though somewhat one-sided, even though he had a strong skill in working with various directions of shamanic art, his experience, and erudition were not enough to understand the important things. Stepan himself could create the same pockets in the spiritual world only a little worse, the clearing was an example to him, but he had not tried to transfer them so completely to the spirit world yet, there was no need. He hadn't tried it, but he certainly wouldn't allow such a blunder as closing a pocket with a standard contour with a basic, albeit masterfully executed seal forbidding all outsiders to enter.

Camrad_RIP 14.06.24 в 19:31

This trick is good when the basis of the totem remains in the material world, literally a classic for any shaman who respects himself and his labor, but it is quite a different matter if at best the totem anchor remains in the real world, and the working сфдд room is moved to the spiritual pocket and the upper layers of the reflection of the spheres. A useful idea, clearly lumped in with a much more advanced design. Stepan saw some solutions that were simply excessive for this totem, and some could not be fully realized. Another part, also not a small part, he did not recognize at all and did not even always suspect that it was possible - he lacked the understanding of wind and control over spirits to make such effects. Apparently, this place had been created with the intention of channeling the essence from a farther point, from somewhere within the city limits of what was known as the Pearl of the Seaside. It was there that the power of the shaman or shamans was based, and here it was, a small laboratory for school projects, nothing more.

Camrad_RIP 14.06.24 в 19:33

But here's the thing. If the seal and the forbidding line on the entrance to the pocket were the envy of all self-taught people, but this was not the real world, but damn spheres, even if they were the closest to the damned Reality! Hungry and very dangerous nasty spirits, which Stepan had kept away from his clearing with a specific circle-in-a-circle, as well as predatory spirits-chipmunks specializing in eating such stuff, did not break through the forbidding seal, they simply gnawed through the walls of the pocket and got inside. Judging by their organization, this pack was commanded by someone advanced and savvy enough not to disturb the protections and defenders of the totems, slowly eating the power and offerings from this pocket, preventing the spirits sleeping in the totem from activating and unleashing a steppe hurricane on the scavengers. And then it was too late because the surrounding power began to belong not to the keepers of the totem, who lived in it permanently and not only come at the call of the shaman, leaning on this totem. No, now the surrounding territory and the rest of the pocket belonged to some disgusting shit, which also blocked the signal from the totem and gradually finished the deliciousness, taking advantage of the absence. Here in less than a couple of weeks, or better, a couple of months, - it is impossible to cope - the owner, who either found a new occupation or simply got normal access to the main call support and forgot about the once-done place.

Camrad_RIP 15.06.24 в 17:33

That's why Stepan, who was intentionally not looking for anything or anyone, without any approximate images or coordinates of this place, felt the drain of strength. The once sturdy pocket had already fallen into almost complete disrepair, and rather than repairing all the damage, it would be easier to burn the place and then create a new place, only by moving the totem with the spirits. The totem and its inhabitants/, were the only things that had not been damaged or not too badly. Yes, the spirits in the totem who woke up late because of a malfunctioning alarm system and the effects of the scavenger couldn't even scream for help or go outside, but barricade all the doors and keep the invaders out - why not? This is one of the purposes of such a totem in case of working inside the spiritual pocket. Sooner or later, the shaman will come to the place where the material anchor stands in the forest, come out of the body, go down to the pocket, realize everything that has happened.... and either destroy the nasty carrion or they bite him. But okay, he's overreacting, a moron wouldn't have created such a thing, he would have killed himself before, and a clever shaman wouldn't get out of his body without protection and guarding spirits like his jellyfish, and he could take someone with him to look after his body too.

Camrad_RIP 16.06.24 в 11:46

All these thoughts and understanding of the situation went through the head of Stepan, who literally fell into the pocket and literally in seconds was sucked through the hole gnawed in the defense. The accelerated and panicked consciousness surpassed the limits of the human body, making him think impossibly fast. But not faster than the very nasty spirits began to raise their heads from all corners of the meadow that had been eaten and soiled, as if after a picnic in the performance of some swine bull. Some of them had four limbs and a large hippopotamus-like mouth, though they didn't seem too big compared to Stepan, some of them looked like blotches and puddles of slop, and some of them looked like dead and rotten chickens. Their leader resembled a shapeless cloud of dirty-brown and festering foul power, evoking distant associations with some kind of mushroom or slug. And the whole coterie gave the sudden guest a very unpleasant look.

Camrad_RIP 16.06.24 в 11:49

The sudden guest reached out with his will to the necklace, which had been forged by sweat and blood, and where about half of the tablets shone with a light that was invisible in the material world, but dazzling in the spiritual world. The light spirits, the good spirits who had invested their power, influence, and their will in these plates, could be proud of themselves. When Stepan released the shadow of this will, covering the entire internal structure of the pocket with this light, the bulk of the trifle was literally burned and vaporized. Even the condition of the clearing seeming to improve a little. The main slug, visibly stunned by a pre-prepared spiritual strike, specially sharpened against the spirits of dark and evil spheres, got a hit from a fighting grip, again, and finally died in a squirm, forcing Stepan to freeze for a few seconds and burn out the crap that had fallen on his ghostly hand. Even the spiritual matter of this thing was quite toxic and unpleasant, literally staining thin bodies with its abomination. He managed, of course, he couldn't help it, he managed just in time to react to the new danger, the danger having warned him of its attack in advance.

Camrad_RIP 13.06.24 в 11:22

"THIEF! “Naturally, it wasn’t a scream, but rather an image conveying an angry and furious desire to punish the asshole that they took him for, making Stepan somehow suddenly realize that he now probably doesn’t look anywhere in an advantageous position. "SCOUNDREL! SAMASH-AVUR!"

Camrad_RIP 11.06.24 в 19:02

The last image had no analog in the languages known to Stepan, but it was still understandable, meaning something like "a very dishonest and evil speaker with spirits, not honoring the good law and ready for any lowliness, whose place is at the parashah or at least in the cesspool", and it had the coloring with which they say a heavy swear in the face. The attack was no less heavy. And it was not something there, but a full-fledged and specialized attack of the spiritual body, specially for the world of spirits honed and for the battle with fellow shamans in the bodiless state of the met designed. It could have scared the shit out of others, if not killed or maimed them, but Stepan, with his resistance of subtle bodies and his mastery of spiritual form already honed by the omnipotent system, was only slightly shaken when he reflexively strengthened himself with protection and extinguished the alien spiritual fist.

Camrad_RIP 13.06.24 в 11:27

The young man turned and looked around, focusing his attention on the master of this place, whom he already disliked for his bad habit of doing first and thinking later, and doing it in an extremely aggressive attacking form. He focused and realized, with a slight surprise, that his colleague was not the master of this place, but the very real mistress. The images of the spiritual body were not always clear and correct, and he had made sure that he was not remembered, recognized or imprinted, but this lady either did not know how to disguise herself, which was unlikely, or did not think it necessary. A beautiful, slanting girl, not so much traditional Asian as Mongolian in appearance, came into his spiritual perception. She literally reeked of the power of steppes, winds, night skies, and the midday sun; she bore multiple marks of old contracts, and her whole body seemed to glow with signs drawn on her spiritually ghostly body.

Camrad_RIP 13.06.24 в 11:37

Some of those marks were clearly duplicates of the reinforcing ritual patterns she had made on herself before leaving her body, reflecting her real image, which also included a few amulets, feathers, and stones like his own, dragged along with him on his journey through the spheres. Some of the other parts of the patterns were either embedded in her essence or left here in the spirit world by other spirits, and these markings were literally six-meter neon letters that told those who wished and could see that this maiden had some VIP connections with the blood and power of her family. Yes, a maiden, at most five years older than Stepan, and for some reason it seemed to him that she was not a pure steppe, but a mestizo, but her blood had not weakened a bit, as well as the connection with the spirits. The child of two shamanic dynasties? He's near Morgrave's reflection now, not in the depths of the steppes..... it would seem. Yes, and the signal-link from her main ancestral stronghold is coming from within the city limits... it seems.

Camrad_RIP 13.06.24 в 13:05

It's so bad luck.

Camrad_RIP 16.06.24 в 20:04

It’s literally out of nothing.

Camrad_RIP 16.06.24 в 20:04

\/"Okay Stepan, show all your gallantry and nip this conflict in the bud, even if you do twist this miracle, but what about the consequences?" he thought, as he drew in his grayish smoke-covered figure and active defense and even an attacking hand, trying to show himself, well, peaceful. Here, in the spirit world, he is definitely stronger, and in the real world, he can compete with her too, both in characteristics and in knowledge and skills, and the latter will definitely be in his favor. Though she has more reserve, and control, it seems, is also better, but the superiority is not drastic. He see in her image some elements unfamiliar to him, but his call school is still more solid, will not yield in anything, and in many respects will surpass. The System gives him a literally perfect version of any direction of development, and it is also customized for him. This feeling of superiority calmed him down a little, because his nerves were still shaky. His spiritual state was affecting him.

Camrad_RIP 13.06.24 в 13:16

"You're wrong, your defense here was..." He had just begun to speak, sending images not with the blows of the storm wind and the jab of a heavy spear, but rather with the grinding of steel and rusted gears, the rustle of leaves falling in late fall, but he was not allowed to finish, and it seemed that he was not even listening, only his successful repulsion of the previous attack was enough. "You fucking bitch!"

Camrad_RIP 13.06.24 в 13:18

The shaman had spoken somewhat undiplomatically, but in his defense, this child of someone's hot interracial love affair had seized control of her totem and tried to pummel Stepan with the rest of her power here. No, she might have had a chance if this place was still hers or had retained a bit more of her power, but after the visit of the Evil Hoarders, her grip on the territory and the rest of her pocket was tenuous, to say the least. And she kicked as if she still owned the place outright. Stepan twisted himself, as if twisting into a knot and attacking simply sending a counter spiritual wave from the point of his stay. And the totem-supported strike, which was supposed to play a fun game of "find yourself between two millstones" with the earthling, just fell apart. If the guy pressed a little harder, so even the rollback could hurt the asshole, but he's damn kind! He can't just start ripping out bitches' nostrils, especially if there's a misunderstanding like this. It was the fact that he was now sincerely seen as the villain in this story and forced to look for a way out of the situation, and not to hit back or flee. Especially since they would be looking for him afterwards, and there would be no way to get rid of them, especially if the whole coven was looking for him.

Camrad_RIP 13.06.24 в 13:24

"HOW DARE YOU! INSULT! GUILTY ONE!" Holy admins, why the fuck doesn't she shut the fuck up and give this place a test. Her skills would be enough to figure out how this shit happened, even if she could talk to the spirits in the totem, but no, we can always blame Stepan, he's the fucking baldest! "YOU'RE EVIL! SAMASH AVOUR! YOU BROUGHT YOUR FILTHY KHAO-TASH HERE! DESTROYED! ROBBERY! AND WAITED. waited for me. YOU CAN'T TAKE ME TALAAT KHANUR!"

Camrad_RIP 16.06.24 в 11:51

Again insults, again unfamiliar terms, intuitively understood through the attachment of images, which, by the way, brought funny thoughts about using the the spiritual world as an ideal means of translation. Although, it is nailing with a video card. Well, the Khao-Tkhash are the very Nasty Hoarders, that is, not just evil, but also as nasty spirits as possible, which even disgusting to call because it's not much use, and you'll get dirty. It's easier to get a normal curser. And the last expression is classic "dishonorable stranger, horse thief, cattle fucker and deceiver", just as if on the forums, just that intimate relations with his mother did not mention. And yes, apparently he was misunderstood again, what a surprise, what a fucking surprise!

Camrad_RIP 13.06.24 в 13:42

Stepan could said a lot. Mostly unprintable otherwordly swearing. But it's not fun for him, especially after the mare thought something very bad. Yeah, the evil shaman had come to her personal stash, ruined it, baited it with a distress signal from her panicked spirits, - probably the victims sitting in the totem had managed to get through to the shaman a little earlier, just when the power was starting to drain out of her pocket - and now he was standing there, insolent. He standing there, ready to fight in the spirit world, and skillfully using against her her own place of power, which no longer belonged to her and contained too many imprints left by her. Stepan swore to himself, of course, but he recognized that in such a situation he would probably think bad things about such a guest.

Camrad_RIP 16.06.24 в 11:55

And then he'd kill the fucking stranger.

Camrad_RIP 16.06.24 в 11:55

Problems with communication kill, and a poor and innocent earthling could verify this truth in practice.

Camrad_RIP 11.06.24 в 19:02

Right here, right now.

Camrad_RIP 13.06.24 в 13:47

Because the shamaness realized that she was in a very delicate and disadvantageous position had somehow once again gone quiet and called in the heavy artillery. Given all the marks on her spirit, which, it seemed, had been inherited, it would have been surprising if she had no defenders. In fact, her short call was directed not in the distance, but quite close, letting out "from behind" the invisibly following guard hiding in her shadow like his jellyfish waiting for his orders or a dangerous moment. A strong spirit.It was a full Elder, no less, though weaker, definitely weaker, than Dreamwalker, but in the same league, and purely martial. Wind, the embodiment of it, the embodiment of wind angry and tender, mightily whipping and tenderly embracing. Attack and defense, even some maintenance of life in one bottle. Whoever put such a miracle to her, even if it was she herself, but the defender was chosen for the glory. And this miracle-juice, aggressively vibrating and howling through the rocks all around the nearest spheres, scaring away the little things, crawled towards Stepan still hanging motionless.

Camrad_RIP 13.06.24 в 13:57

"NOW I HAVE TO ASK! WITH THE WILL AND POWER OF THE KHAO-ESSAI! AND YOU ANSWER!" Power over the guardian spirit she'd summoned and commanded in the name of long-standing family bargains, but she didn't have time to finish her pathos. - YOU'RE TAL....

Camrad_RIP 15.06.24 в 09:07

This made her less arrogant by the fact that the spirit of winds, which pulled its airy grasping hands to the motionless Stepan, received a dozen stinging and really painful, not economical as it had been before, blows with stinging tentacles. Both jellyfish swam out "from behind" the shaman in the same way as the shaman's guard had done before, unhurriedly and majestically, showing at once who was a gosu and who is a noob with zero rating. But seriously, in pure strength, the shaman's guard was stronger than a single jellyfish and even both of them, with incredible cohesion working in pairs. Except that he was a combat-oriented spirit, but a universal one, whereas Stepan had bound the jellyfish to the treaty precisely for their exceptional suitability in combat against other spirits in their territory. And they also, completely powerless in the real world, struck suddenly for another's contract through their ward, at the last moment bypassing him with their tentacles. It was not for nothing that he had been frozen and motionless all this time - that was the move he had been preparing for, and if he had jerked, he would have been hit by his own missed guards.

Camrad_RIP 15.06.24 в 09:22

And now the spirit, which in a fair fight would have torn the two jellyfish or forced them to run away, had not had time to drop the poison, to burn it out before it hit the core of the spirit body. The terrifyingly mighty steppe wind suddenly somehow realized that he was about to be beaten, perhaps even kicked. In his weakened and damaged state he could at most last a few moments of the battle, without the strength to win or the will to retreat, because the contract to protect this girl bound him too tightly.

Camrad_RIP 15.06.24 в 09:26

The battle turned out to be brief and colorful, literally fifty heartbeats, but they were so rich! The shamaness, silent and concentrated, was obviously trying to call for help somewhere, and Stepan, realizing that the owners of such clan calls would try to get him from under the ground later, having every chance to get him, did not let her fulfill the call, blocked, closed, wrapped her in a warm woolen blanket and strangled, strangled, strangled the cry for help that was becoming more and more desperate with each passing moment. He had underestimated her power, had overlooked her greater reserve and the power of blood-bound, albeit absent in spirits, contracts, and deals. And he hadn't wanted to spend too much of his strength, saving it for escape, and he'd saved it, the idiot! She pushed through his block with her patterns and a couple of reflected artifacts, literally burning them out and sending out several signals-cry for rescue at once. Most of them, two out of three, he intercepted.

Camrad_RIP 15.06.24 в 09:55

The first one was going by blood, probably to call out to Mom and Dad, but that wasn't fucking funny, considering all that the daughter could do at her relatively young age. The second tried to find a connection to the main totem and place of power, it was the most powerful and distant, but also intercepted more easily than the others. And the third, sent on the remnants of concentration after the young man, on the same remnants of concentration, intercepted the previous two, could not be held. It was a kind of call of the duty group, very expensive and not to be disturbed for nothing, intended for the most extreme case, as it was now from the point of view of the "ambushed" steppe girl. And so, to help the unfortunate damsel in distress and no less unfortunate beaten senior spirit came two more spirits, albeit smaller, but also on average stronger than jellyfish. And those were already spent power and lost the effect of surprise. Stepan, like the shamaness, didn't waste his strength and will on yelling, but mentally gave himself a failing grade in terms of paranoia, because he would have to prepare better next time if he was to have that next time. Worst of all, of course, he could call for backup, but it would take time, and he didn't have a powerful place of power and a ready response team in the nearest city. They'll never make it, even if they start calling now! A minute, even less, but not in time, which at the speed of the ongoing battle is equal to an eternity, or even two.

Camrad_RIP 15.06.24 в 09:59