[Bomberman would agree it could definitely be worse...but this is still one of the worst things he's ever seen and he's seen Sthertoth up close. Maybe it's just that one can expect and accept that the Demon of the Dark would be an unholy abomination; maybe it's the fact that there's a decent chance that some of these victims were just innocents caught up in things (and someone like Shiro can have sympathy for even the wrongdoers). In any case, thank the Ancestrals for the vacuum of space and Bomberman's protective suit for rendering any lingering stench of copper and rot a complete non-issue.
He floats over and pauses by the R&D doorframe to survey the scene. Aside from the charitably-termed "mess," there are carved, sigil-marked pieces of umbriolite floating in the nonexistent gravity amidst faint clouds of white powder. Part of the floor beneath the mass of bodies shows some sort of design marked out in faded paint. Bomberman's no occultist — regardless of any knowledge handed over to him by a halfling friend — but he's seen enough horror movies to make a basic guess about the situation.
A trinity of tones sounds in Bomberman's skull. The vertigo-like feeling of crossed vision about his very existence strikes him again. In fleeting flashes, he sees the logic of how the glyph was supposed to direct Dantalefor's power, sees the moment that the logic failed the researchers, sees how the reservoir of power they were drawing on burned itself completely out after...]
Um. I'm. Going to finish stripping the processing area, first. I'll be back.
[There's a potentially-recognizable crackling to the edges of Bomberman's words that (probably) can't be attributed to any bandwidth or frequency limitations on their comms. He is fully intelligible this time, however.]
no subject
[Bomberman would agree it could definitely be worse...but this is still one of the worst things he's ever seen and he's seen Sthertoth up close. Maybe it's just that one can expect and accept that the Demon of the Dark would be an unholy abomination; maybe it's the fact that there's a decent chance that some of these victims were just innocents caught up in things (and someone like Shiro can have sympathy for even the wrongdoers). In any case, thank the Ancestrals for the vacuum of space and Bomberman's protective suit for rendering any lingering stench of copper and rot a complete non-issue.
He floats over and pauses by the R&D doorframe to survey the scene. Aside from the charitably-termed "mess," there are carved, sigil-marked pieces of umbriolite floating in the nonexistent gravity amidst faint clouds of white powder. Part of the floor beneath the mass of bodies shows some sort of design marked out in faded paint. Bomberman's no occultist — regardless of any knowledge handed over to him by a halfling friend — but he's seen enough horror movies to make a basic guess about the situation.
A trinity of tones sounds in Bomberman's skull. The vertigo-like feeling of crossed vision about his very existence strikes him again. In fleeting flashes, he sees the logic of how the glyph was supposed to direct Dantalefor's power, sees the moment that the logic failed the researchers, sees how the reservoir of power they were drawing on burned itself completely out after...]
Um. I'm. Going to finish stripping the processing area, first. I'll be back.
[There's a potentially-recognizable crackling to the edges of Bomberman's words that (probably) can't be attributed to any bandwidth or frequency limitations on their comms. He is fully intelligible this time, however.]