Charm Learning Shard (Worm/Exalted) (COMPLETED)

[Saltedboi]

The Butcher personalities might die off if she suppresses her power to normal mortal levels. If the Butcher power is actively sustaining their existence, rather than just storing them and running them. Otherwise, they might count as ghosts, and if Taylor is getting Abyssal Charms and such, they don't stand much of a chance against that. The only thing preventing Soulsteel shenanigans is the lack of Underworld to gather iron from to make it. Soulsteel, for those who are unaware, is Underworld iron alloyed with a ghost, trapping them in an eternity of torment.

 

[Earth-Destroyer]

Guessing

Marquis will be be either a necromancy spell, or soulsteel.

 

[Amberion]

Still not worth the hit on QoL.

Click to shrink...

If Taylor was capable of making reasonable decisions, she wouldn't have done 90% of the things she's done in this fic. This fic epitomizes bad decisions gone to 11.

 

[Whitesnake Pelinal]

Acidbath: All-Devouring Depths Shintai. This one is easy.
Lab Rat: Inner Devils Unchained.
Teacher: Power-Awarding Prana (VEE is already taken so there goes the best Training charm with an inbuilt Master effect.)
Ingenue: You and Yours Stance
Canary: Harmonic Completion
String Theory: World-Slaying Arsenal Epiphany
Crock o'Shit: Judge's Ear Technique/Factual Determination Analysis
Black Kaze: Uh, something from Charcoal March of Spiders Style.

Can't think of good guesses off the top of my head for Gavel, Marquis, Crane the Harmonious, Glastic, or Lustrum. Watch Glastig's inherent charm just be Sacred Kamala's Inhalation. Though her ghosts are probably each separate valid study targets.

Click to shrink...

Teacher: Legendary Scholar Curriculum. It's close enough to be plausible and fits thematically.

Gavel: Notable for his power reducing damage to him to a tiny fraction but not nothing; Scion overcame it with a steady high-intensity beam. Something that reduces damage to minimum of one die like the errata'd version of Spirit Strengthens the Skin would fit.

Marquise: His gag is that he manipulates bone and acts like a mobster. A leg-breaker, if you will. Any bone-breaking charm from any martial arts set could fit.

Scion floats aimlessly looking down upon the world. Just one of many iterations of the same worthless rock spread across countless dimensions. He can barely be bothered to remember which one this one even is, for truly... Life is meaningless suffering. For him. He isn't sure if the primitives below can even understand pain. Silly mortals.

Then there is a flash of light and another Golden and Glowing being appears before him.

"...Eden?"

"Eh, sure. You can call me Eden. But, I get to study your powers. All of your powers. Deal?"

"The Cycle continues...?"

"Yes. Oh yes indeed. The cycle continues. New powers forever."

For, while Taylor Eden liked some mortals alright... The chance at learning new powers forever? Well, she can always find new pets friends on the next world. Well, for about 300 years until it is time to move on again, at least...

And, while Trousers might think her the 'Monster at the End of the World'... It seems pretty obvious to her that Trousers meant to say Goddess at the End of the World.

Click to shrink...

A return to the cycles could plausibly align with Simurgh goals, Trousers shouldn't live long enough to care about the distant future, and Contessa sucks at life.

The only thing wrong with this outcome is that it might not be derpy enough.

 

[ses]

Teacher: Legendary Scholar Curriculum. It's close enough to be plausible and fits thematically.

Gavel: Notable for his power reducing damage to him to a tiny fraction but not nothing; Scion overcame it with a steady high-intensity beam. Something that reduces damage to minimum of one die like the errata'd version of Spirit Strengthens the Skin would fit.

Marquise: His gag is that he manipulates bone and acts like a mobster. A leg-breaker, if you will. Any bone-breaking charm from any martial arts set could fit.

Click to shrink...

Yeah I actually had Harmonious Academic Methodology as teacher's charm but edited it. I knew Gavel would be one of the "reduce damage to one" charms but honestly I was and am too sleep deprived to do a thorough accounting of them. Marquis is something body horror flavored from the Abyssal charmset but there's a lot of options there and see Gavel.

The Butcher personalities might die off if she suppresses her power to normal mortal levels. If the Butcher power is actively sustaining their existence, rather than just storing them and running them. Otherwise, they might count as ghosts, and if Taylor is getting Abyssal Charms and such, they don't stand much of a chance against that. The only thing preventing Soulsteel shenanigans is the lack of Underworld to gather iron from to make it. Soulsteel, for those who are unaware, is Underworld iron alloyed with a ghost, trapping them in an eternity of torment.

Click to shrink...

Snuts has been pretty insistent that souls aren't a thing and very clear the that Underworld isn't.

Besides, the Butcher personalities aren't ghosts. They share zero traits with ghosts.

 

[John Doey]

Still not worth the hit on QoL.

Click to shrink...

You've got it all wrong, the hit on QoL is the only reason Snuts allowed it.

 

[Daniel Snuts]

Very late to noticing this but the lie is that she didn't say "This just proves me right you know" with her last breath. Which in hindsight with the Fleeing Maiden sutra making a joke of precog literalism is a little surprising.

Click to shrink...

I must say, "not all sutras are as literal as the token joke sutra" was not a criticism I expected to receive.

Next thing you know people are going to complain that Taylor hasn't encountered a little bird capable of human speech, and discussed her dietary choices with it.

 

[Zxzx24]

Next thing you know people are going to complain that Taylor hasn't encountered a little bird capable of human speech, and discussed her dietary choices with it.

Click to shrink...

What a fuckin tragedy that is.

With both bonesaw and the simurgh on deck too.

 

[Cheiromancer]

Next thing you know people are going to complain that Taylor hasn't encountered a little bird capable of human speech, and discussed her dietary choices with it.

Click to shrink...

Could someone explain the in-joke here?

 

[Daniel Snuts]

Spoiler: Trooper Daniels-o-vision

When the call went out for volunteers, I jumped on it. This was it. This was the difference I wanted to make when I signed up for the academy. I was young and foolish then, of course, and life is never quite so clear-cut in retrospect as the future your younger self imagines.

Still, I have done my part in making the world a less awful place. But if I could make some small contribution, by word or deed, towards putting the Butcher in the Birdcage, that would be something else. A feather in the old cap, something to tell the hypothetical grandkids about.

Not so young anymore, but still plenty foolish. It never really registered that what I was volunteering for was, essentially, being stuck in a tiny metal box with Hannibal fucking Lecter.

Never mind the restraints, Director Olsen had said, the restraints are there to make the paperwork look good. If I sent you out with an unrestrained prisoner the union would be crawling up my ass before you left city limits. If the Butcher asks you to let her out of the restraints, do it. If she tears them off without asking - and believe me, she could if she wanted to - you smile and nod.

Not minding the restraints was a lot easier for the first half hour or so, before the similarities to a certain movie occurred to me. She hasn't said anything so far, but-

"A moment of your time, Agent Starling?"

Shit. Of course she's seen it too. "It's 'Trooper Daniels', ma'am," I respond as politely as I can manage. I really don't want her to start thinking in that direction. Agent Starling ultimately lived, but not all her colleagues were as lucky.

They should have sent a psychologist, not a PRT grunt.

"Do you have a knife, Trooper Daniels?"

Get this through your heads: You're not a prisoner transport, you're a taxi. No, a fucking limousine. If the Butcher wants you to stop for donuts, you stop for donuts. If she wants to get out and stretch her legs I hope to god you'll be on a deserted-ass stretch of road with no civilians, because you're going to stop and let her out.

I really wish she had asked for donuts instead. "I do, ma'am."

"Show me."

This is the part where Dr Lecter tells me to cut myself and I do it, isn't it? No, it's OK, the Butcher doesn't have Mast- the Butcher does have Master powers. Fuck! She can induce berserk rage. This shit is so far above my pay grade, it's not even funny.

My hand goes to the hilt of the PRT standard-issue multi-purpose utility tool and emergency close quarters combat implement. Yes, that's really how it's described in the manual. It's a knife. As far as I can tell after years in the service, the multiple purposes are cleaning your nails and opening beer cans in an ostentatiously macho fashion. We're city cops, not soldiers on campaign.

Say, there's an idea. "I'm sorry ma'am, I misspoke. I only have a standard-issue multi-purpose utility tool and emergency close quarters combat implement."

That gets a chuckle. A giggle, almost. It makes her sound incredibly young. The tension lifts a bit, at least, at this display of humanity. Yes, humanity. Don't think about horror movies featuring creepy little girls. I said, don't think about those. Stop it, brain!

"Ah, bureaucracy. That will have to do, Trooper Daniels. Show me."

I draw the knife and hold it up on an open palm, careful not to brandish it in any way that could be interpreted as threatening. Really, what are my options here? I don't show it to her, making her angry?

"Excellent," she says. "Now, stab me."

If she has second thoughts about going to the Birdcage, you may verbally attempt to change her mind, should you deem it safe. Maybe try begging, or cajoling. Under no circumstances are you to employ violence against the Butcher. It won't help.

"Uh..." Do whatever the Butcher asks. Don't employ violence against the Butcher. Yeah, well, what if she asks me to employ violence against her, I didn't think to ask. "Are you dissatisfied with your current host, ma'am?"

"You couldn't kill me if you tried, Trooper Daniels. In the arm, if it helps your peace of mind. Or the leg? Non-vital area of your choice. Now, please." Her voice breaks halfway through, going back to sounding like a little girl.

Just fucking go. I'll kick it upstairs and try to get the roads cleared ahead of you, just try not to get into a fender bender before then. Fuck all speed limits, and if she loses it before you get there, may god have mercy on your souls.

"I..."

"Do it now, you dumb fucker! Do it! I'll suck your cock! I'll eat your children! I-"

I stab her. In an attempt to overcome her Brute rating I put my whole body behind it, and end up driving the knife all the way through her bicep and pinning her arm to the wall.

She lets out a long shuddering breath, almost a moan. When she next speaks, her voice is back to normal.

"Thank you, Trooper Daniels. Again, please." Like flipping a switch, she's once again perfectly calm.

And why wouldn't she be? There's no blood, and the wound closes up as soon as I pull the knife out. Which takes some effort - it's like it was stabbed into a tree trunk, not human flesh. But I nevertheless decline her offer to rip her other hand free of the restraints and do it for me.

There's not even any blood on the knife.

After another seven, rather less dramatic stabs - I keep count, knowing they'll want it in the report - she tells me to stop.

"I apologize for my unseemly conduct earlier, Trooper Daniels," she says. "Please disregard any untoward comments I let slip in the heat of the moment."

The repetitive mechanical task of stabbing the insane supervillain gave me a chance to calm down, and my hand barely shakes at all as I return the knife to it's sheath.

"Don't worry about it," I say with feigned calm. "I don't have any kids, and I wouldn't put my dick between your teeth if you paid me to do it. Uh, no offense."

Another girlish laugh. "None taken. Is there anything I can do - not involving teeth - to repay you for your assistance?"

"Weeell..." I am genuinely curious about one thing - and the director will want to know too. "If you don't mind me asking, how did you manage to kill the old Butcher? I mean, you're... uh, Quicksilver was..."

"A mere Thinker, yes. Against a foe with superhuman strength and toughness, perfect accuracy, teleportation, danger sense. Of course everyone is curious."

You consider the man in front of you, and his question. You don't know him very well, but you can draw certain conclusions about a man who would join the PRT. Who would put his life on the line, for a charade of cops and robbers.

Trooper Daniels... is not extraordinary. Dutiful, perhaps. Brave, certainly, volunteering to escort the Butcher. But not a deep thinker. Not necessarily stupid - he might have the sense to question a lie told to his face. But it takes an extraordinary man to question what he is told implicitly, every day of his life. To watch a movie and recognize that after subtracting the protagonist's uncanny ability to shrug off bullet wounds to the shoulder and shoot twelve mooks with an eight-round magazine, what is left is not a documentary.

Trooper Daniels is not an extraordinary man. He believes that the opposing political party is full of evil liars (he's not wrong). On some level he is aware that his favored party is also full of evil liars. But he keeps voting for them anyway, because they tell him what he wants to hear, and perhaps they're not lying this time? "Politicians!" he'll say to his friends, and everyone will nod sagely. It never occurs to them to take any action beyond this. It never occurs to them that things could be other than how they are.

Trooper Daniels is, to put it simply, a normie. And what of it? It's not a terminal condition. And in some cases, treatable.

"It's a bit of a secret," you say finally. "Turn off the microphones, lean in close, and let me whisper in your ear."

To his dubious credit, he does. Putting his ear right next to those teeth he dreaded so much. Brave, certainly. But not a deep thinker. But such things are not always punished. You do not bite. You merely whisper.

Four words.

He draws back, and you smile. A lot of things were said about Trooper Daniels just now. Few of them are true any more. Trooper Daniels has tasted the fruit.

Sometimes four words is all it takes to completely shatter a man's conception of the world, and his place within it. A single glance behind the curtain is enough, to reveal the existence of a curtain.

Spoiler: The four words are pretty badass, but not worth their own chapter

Hypersonic depleted uranium round.

Spoiler: Director Olsen-o-vision

"You what?"

"I sent Butcher XV to the Birdcage," I repeat. "After she turned herself in and specifically requested that I do so. Given that reports of Butcher XII show him succumbing within hours of possession, I chose not to bring it before a jury. Now can we please get the roads cleared?"

A cacophony of voices wash over me, speaking without regard for each other. I'm insane, I have no authority, I should have kept the Butcher in a holding cell (and I'm the insane one?). I'm tempted to mute the call, but I might miss something actually important.

"Do we know where the transport is now?" Director Enfield's voice cuts through the hubbub.

"We're tracking its GPS position, yes," I answer.

"Two words: Cruise missile."

"That's- would that work?" Director Jameson asks.

"No," Chief Director Costa-Brown says firmly. "We have put Thinkers on this scenario before. It's unclear exactly what would happen - depending on the precise circumstances, the Butcher could jump to the person who pressed the button, the person who gave the order, or even just a nearby bystander. What is clear is that it would not end the Butcher, and would kill Troopers Daniels, O'Neil and Smith to no purpose. I will not authorize a missile strike."

"My apologies," Enfield says. "I was not aware."

"That aside, do we want to allow the Butcher into the Birdcage?" Jameson asks. "A homicidally insane Trump that grows stronger with each parahuman it subsumes? Do we really want to present it with a... a buffet of the most dangerous parahumans on the continent?"

"We put the Faerie Queen in there," Costa-Brown says, "and she keeps the full power of every cape she eats. The homicidally insane Trump ship sailed a long time ago, Jameson. The Birdcage still stands."

"A fair point, ma'am. Objection withdrawn."

"Are we just going to ignore the legal issues involved in sending someone to the Birdcage without a trial?" Director Schumer asks.

"Yes," several people respond simultaneously. Including Costa-Brown. "The Faerie Queen was not tried either," Costa-Brown adds. "These are extraordinary circumstances, gentlemen. Get those roads cleared, and pray that they make it before their passenger submits to the will of the Butcher."

---

You did not lie. In the context of bullets, 'depleted uranium' is simply the closest translation of 'orichalcum' that a random trooper would understand. Although, perhaps you gave him too much of a hint, you reflect as you ride the elevator down into the Birdcage proper. Not the four words, but what you said afterwards, before he turned the microphones back on.

You may of course choose to betray my trust. Without fear of retribution, if you think the Birdcage will stand forever inviolate. Would I recommend this course of action? No.

If he chooses to pass that on to his bosses, it might ruin the surprise.

Oh well. You don't mind all that much. The PRT seriously exceeded your expectations when it came to transporting you to the Birdcage without fuss, you're okay with throwing them a bone. That new Director really was an excellent choice.

You shudder as the elevator passes through another spatial distortion field. Dragon helpfully warned you not to try to damage the elevator, because it would be traveling through a vacuum with an air supply carefully calculated to last exactly long enough for it to reach its destination. She needn't have bothered, because sorcerer's sight has shown you enough space-warping tinkertech on the way down that you're not entirely sure what continent you're on right now. You'd rather not find out how many cubic miles you'd end up scattered across if you damaged that.

---

The elevator stops, the doors open, and you step out. You find yourself in a large open space, a lobby of sorts. Dozens of parahumans are present, standing in a rough semicircle facing the elevator. Surrounding you, but keeping their distance. They are split into several distinct groups, some of which seem almost as nervous about each other as they are about the new arrival. You're given to understand that each group represents a single cellblock of villains, which is how the power structures have shaken out in this lawless place.

They know who you are - that is, they know that you're the Butcher - and are understandably wary. The Butcher could easily carve out a kingdom of its own here. The question is, who will fall to make room? How will it affect the balance of power?

Some groups already have forcefields put up between you and them, and one has several tinkertech turrets deployed. The turrets turn to track you as you walk forward.

Out of all the people present, you recognize exactly two - for obvious reasons your parahuman studies have been focused on active capes, and it's not as if they get to keep their costumes after being sent in here.

One of the people you recognize is Lung, whose costume consists of stripping to the waist and showing off his dragon tattoos. Hey buddy, long time no see, sorry about putting you in here, these are all things you don't say to him.

Instead you stop in front of the other recognizable person, and kneel before her. The only one standing alone, without an entourage. A small girl, in a dress of black ribbons that flutter in an impossible wind.

"Faerie Queen," you say. "I have travelled far in search of your wisdom, and humbly request the hospitality of your court."

When she speaks, it is as if a choir of people recite her words. "Rise and be welcome, Quill of Heaven. The ancient compacts shall be honored."

===

Spoiler: Mechanics corner

The eclipse caste is the caste of diplomats - which is why they're sometimes known as 'the Quills of Heaven'. Treaties signed during the First Age bind the lords of the Fae to always offer guest rights to them and their delegations, if they come in peace.

But how the hell does regular parahuman Glaistig Uaine know this?

 

[Cosmic Dream]

Oh wow. Studying Glaistig Uaine's power might be a way to get better control of the previous Butchers.

That, or Necromancy to raise ghosts or something, which would be far less useful.

I've seen a Worm/Exalted fusion before where the Entities were the remnants of a Primordial that escaped the War and turned themselves into a viral weapon system to enact revenge. It would have to be something like that, unless the Entities actually ate Creation, which ... no.

Although, they could simply have come across a single Exalted lost in the Deep Wyld, beyond the Well of Udr, on traveled into Oramus' Beyond. One Eclipse Caste Solar should be within their capabilities and it's been demonstrated by the Deathlords that confining and controlling them is possible to some degree.

And if so, is there a possibility the actual Exaltation behind Taylor's powers might actually break free at some point?

 

[Whitesnake Pelinal]

The eclipse caste is the caste of diplomats - which is why they're sometimes known as 'the Quills of Heaven'. Treaties signed during the First Age bind the lords of the Fae to always offer guest rights to them and their delegations, if they come in peace.

But how the hell does regular parahuman Glaistig Uaine know this?

Click to shrink...

If an Exaltation can make its way to Worm, why not a Raksha?

The Four Words

Click to shrink...

*snerk*

"Do it now, you dumb fucker! Do it! I'll suck your cock! I'll eat your children! I-"

Click to shrink...

This is starting to sound like another fresh-new-hell decision.

 

[ses]

Oh wow. Studying Glaistig Uaine's power might be a way to get better control of the previous Butchers.

That, or Necromancy to raise ghosts or something, which would be far less useful.

I've seen a Worm/Exalted fusion before where the Entities were the remnants of a Primordial that escaped the War and turned themselves into a viral weapon system to enact revenge. It would have to be something like that, unless the Entities actually ate Creation, which ... no.

Although, they could simply have come across a single Exalted lost in the Deep Wyld, beyond the Well of Udr, on traveled into Oramus' Beyond. One Eclipse Caste Solar should be within their capabilities and it's been demonstrated by the Deathlords that confining and controlling them is possible to some degree.

And if so, is there a possibility the actual Exaltation behind Taylor's powers might actually break free at some point?

Click to shrink...

Snuts has already confirmed that Warrior-kun ran into a single Solar who found himself very very lost. Solars are awesome but not "beat a Primordial 1v1 awesome"

Of course, the ancient pacts don't actually apply to Taylor since she's not carrying a real Exaltation. FQ is clearly indulging her mad oracle tendencies but is incorrect about the actual application. Cecelyne was able to make a connection to wormverse so they're not in the Beyond. The connection must have been via the Well of Udr or just going deep deep depp into Deep Wyld. Most likely the Well due to humans existing in both realms. Cecelyne is capable of connecting to every realm in existence except the Beyond. On account of the Beyond not actually existing even by the standards of beings for whom existence is a fuzzy concept. Only Oramus gets to be that fuzzy.

I doubt warrior-kun ran into Raksha, since Wyld-Shaping Technique is literally the solution that the Entities have been searching for for eons to get infinite lebensraum. But that authors note makes me feel that the answer is more interesting than just purely Gastig's chuuni tendencies.

@snuts I also want to let you know that Hannibal-Taylor was fucking great. That might actually be a heavy competitor for one of my favorite scenes in the entire fic. I really really loved that poor trooper realizing just what horror movie he's stepped in. I could feel his anguish at being in so far over his head.

 

[wigg55]

Rise and be welcome, Quill of Heaven.

Click to shrink...

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAHA!

Oh good lord, the shitshow only ever ramps up.

The only thing missing is a Vizier plotting shit in the background and desperately running around putting out fires. Hey that kinda sound like Contessa don it?

 

[R.A.G.]

Wonder how much it'll haunt him that anyone with a decent gun could have killed the Butcher.

 

[tronax]

Good job, trooper! I'll try to apply you for a 10% monthly bonus. Proud of you, son.

 

[Placeholdername]

I've seen a Worm/Exalted fusion before where the Entities were the remnants of a Primordial that escaped the War and turned themselves into a viral weapon system to enact revenge. It would have to be something like that, unless the Entities actually ate Creation, which ... no.

Click to shrink...

Have you got a link to that story?

 

[Kennethil]

How did those four words "pull back the curtain"? I suppose it may be the revelation that even a top tier parahuman such as the Butcher, that non-parahumans are commonly thought helpless against, could be brought down by mundane weaponry in the hands of someone whose power ostensibly didn't help with its use. I seem to recall that there was a Wildbow WoG that Contessa does some work to promote the idea that normies with guns are useless against capes.

 

[ses]

How did those four words "pull back the curtain"? I suppose it may be the revelation that even a top tier parahuman such as the Butcher, that non-parahumans are commonly thought helpless against, could be brought down by mundane weaponry in the hands of someone whose power ostensibly didn't help with its use. I seem to recall that there was a Wildbow WoG that Contessa does some work to promote the idea that normies with guns are useless against capes.

Click to shrink...

It isn't even true though. That gun was powerful tinkertech by any definition. Not to mention that Thinker powers were employed to know exactly how to find a chink in the danger sense (no precog or enhanced reaction time, only works by limited range subconscious omniscience pinging them with a heads-up). Technically that might have just been from the PRT files but I doubt Taylor would gamble on that without double-checking how Butcher's danger sense worked personally. Thinker supremacy isn't a new idea to the PRT.

Plus Alexandria even talked about how they had already thought of the cruise missile idea. Taylor was only able to take down the butcher because she could defeat the butcher's soul via willpower-enhancing-spirit/HtSF. There's no option that doesn't involve powers.

Wonder how much it'll haunt him that anyone with a decent gun could have killed the Butcher.

Click to shrink...

Tinkertech anti-material rifle isn't "a decent gun"

 

[Dakkah]

Big sister and Watchdog are going to be so confused, trying to analyze this Self mutilating, borderline Sane Butcher as she makes her rounds through the BC.

And perhaps worse, her apparent friendship with the Fairy Queen.

Snip.

Click to shrink...

Bet she'd have the worst kind of love/hate relation with her Stepdaughter...

Speaking of which, can you imagine how confusing it would be for him, to watch his new waifu pulling a Sophia on his Pride and Joy?

 

[One-who-reads]

Oh wow. Studying Glaistig Uaine's power might be a way to get better control of the previous Butchers.

That, or Necromancy to raise ghosts or something, which would be far less useful.

I've seen a Worm/Exalted fusion before where the Entities were the remnants of a Primordial that escaped the War and turned themselves into a viral weapon system to enact revenge. It would have to be something like that, unless the Entities actually ate Creation, which ... no.

Click to shrink...

Could we get a link to that story?

 

[PlasticSoldier]

I've seen a Worm/Exalted fusion before where the Entities were the remnants of a Primordial that escaped the War and turned themselves into a viral weapon system to enact revenge. It would have to be something like that, unless the Entities actually ate Creation, which ... no.

Click to shrink...

Link please.

 

[Edifier]

Plus Alexandria even talked about how they had already thought of the cruise missile idea. Taylor was only able to take down the butcher because she could defeat the butcher's soul via willpower-enhancing-spirit/HtSF. There's no option that doesn't involve powers.

Click to shrink...

The point is that Butcher would take over those who shot the misslile, so she wouldn't die. Just like how Taylor became the new butcher.

 

[wigg55]

Wonder how much it'll haunt him that anyone with a decent gun could have killed the Butcher.

Click to shrink...

Its more that parahumans, even powerfull ones, can be killed via high caliber bullet from a couple of blocks over. It's breaking out of the mindset that Capes are not something normies can deal with. In reality every normie with a hand-gun is a blaster 3, automatic rifles makes for blaster 4.

Killing the Butcher was never the real problem. It's the part where they don't stay dead that was problematic.

 

[zapking5]

Even in an AU story I read called Divided where are all parahumans got killed or imprisoned by normals using a more powerful Dragon, the Teeth were the one exception marauding around because there simply wasn't any way to deal with the Butcher.

 

[Cosmic Dream]

Have you got a link to that story?

Click to shrink...

Sorry, don't have one. That's pretty much the only thing I recall and I might be misremembering. Could have been in a snippet thread somewhere instead of a full story, too.

 

[Daniel Snuts]

Could someone explain the in-joke here?

Click to shrink...

Once there was a maiden...
...whose parents could not afford to feed her, and so she grew up sickly and weak.
When a kind stranger offered her a taste of food, she was amazed at how strong it made her.
She set out into the world, determined to sample every food there was.
As she ate and ate, her power grew.
"For what purpose do you need so much power?" a passing bird asked.
"I haven't finished eating yet," said she.

Of course, that was before. If the bird showed up again, she'd explain how she's intending to revenge-murder Leviathan's entire family in self-defense.

How did those four words "pull back the curtain"? I suppose it may be the revelation that even a top tier parahuman such as the Butcher, that non-parahumans are commonly thought helpless against, could be brought down by mundane weaponry in the hands of someone whose power ostensibly didn't help with its use. I seem to recall that there was a Wildbow WoG that Contessa does some work to promote the idea that normies with guns are useless against capes.

Click to shrink...

That's one part of it, yes. It doesn't matter that Quicksilver had an above-average gun (you don't buy depleted uranium at 7-11 either), because the Butcher isn't an average cape. It's enough to show that cops and robbers could be played very differently.

But the other part of it is precisely that the Butcher is special. Everyone had written off ever dealing with the Butcher. Everyone had accepted that it was just part of how things were. Yet all it took to overturn the status quo was one person with the will to stand up and declare it intolerable.

Ignore the part where Quicksilver secretly isn't a self-sacrificing altruist, and the source of that willpower - the Butcher was dealt with in canon as well, through different means. It is a thing that can be done.

 

[Daniel Snuts]

Glaistig Uaine, also known as the Faerie Queen. Where most people have one cape name and one civilian name, she just has two cape names. Not that she doesn't deserve it. In one way she's your opposite: You're sixteen, wearing a form in its mid-twenties, while she is at least thirty - forty? - but doesn't look a day above thirteen. In another way, you're the same: She is a collector of powers as well. But where you carefully study other parahumans for days and weeks on end, she rips out their souls - or faeries, as she calls them - and binds them to serve her.

You have no idea whether her death touch would work on mortals as well, but it's not like she'd need it. Not when she can use the powers of any three of her enslaved 'faeries' at a time, like a smarter but less wholesome Eidolon (no, you still haven't forgiven Eidolon for the shit he tried to pull against Behemoth). Faeries like Gray Boy, whose time-based powers made him completely immune to all forms of harm (except, clearly, having his soul ripped out). Or Megaton, whose blasts could level cities.

She can also salvage the faeries of recently dead parahumans she did not kill - they apparently hang around nearby for a while as the body cools, which has all kinds of interesting theological implications. You're more focused on the fact that she must have some sort of sorcerer's sight-analog to be able to spot them, though. And you of course have the touch of death as well, courtesy of Flechette. You really are alike.

You wonder what she sees when she looks at you.

The Faerie Queen has chosen to welcome you to her domain by having a tea party. It's exactly what it sounds like. You're sitting across from her at a small circular table, with a frilly, lace-edged little tablecloth embroidered with pink roses, and the tea isn't real.

That is to say, instead of a teapot there's a foot-high ghost/faerie standing in the center of the table. A deformed, hunched-over humanoid of a thing, without eyes or nose, only a fanged grin splitting its face from ear to non-existent ear. Its clawed, stigmata'd hands drip a red liquid into the cups on command.

It's the best tea you've ever had, served at the perfect temperature.

Instead of dolls and teddy bears taking up the seats to either side of you, it's a pair of parahumans. One is a man twice your weight, none of it fat, with knife scars and acid burns covering most of his face. The other is a woman, hairless to the point where she has plucked her eyebrows and replaced them with dozens of densely packed metal studs. Her nose, lips and ears are similarly bedecked, and small sparks of lighting occasionally shoot between the piercings.

It must surely be an honor for a vassal to be invited to take tea with the Faerie Queen, yet both of them are absolutely sweating bullets, stuck-out pinkies trembling as they sip their tea.

"We hope everything is to your liking, Quill of Heaven," the voices of the Faerie Queen speak.

"The tea is excellent, thank you," you respond politely and truthfully. "It's a lovely party. However if we are to discuss more weighty matters, I'd prefer to do so without the props." You glance meaningfully at scar-guy and piercing-lady.

With a "tch" sound and a snap of her fingers, the Faerie Queen dismisses her subjects. They scramble to their feet and back out of the room while constantly bowing to her (and shooting you grateful glances).

"Speak, then," the Faerie Queen commands.

"I would not seek you out you without a fitting tribute, of course." You purse your lips and consider the cacophony of voices inside you. "Number five, I think." Five has been trying to make you peel your own skin off and eat it for the entire trip over. Not through anything so crude as taking control of your limbs, but by wanting it badly enough that the gestalt entity that you now are started craving it too. Poor Trooper Daniels had to stab you so many times to keep your willpower up.

Compared to that, the constant verbal encouragement barely registered. With fourteen voices simultaneously shouting in your head, it's relatively easy to tune out any one. You push Five out towards the forefront of your soul, and reach your hand out across the table.

-run the knife along the fat, slurp it- wait, what are you- no! Nonononono-

In the greatest act of trust in human history, you and the Faerie Queen touch each other. Neither of you die. But Five's voice cuts off abruptly, and your soul feels that much lighter. A quick glance into your soul shows that the golden matrix of his copied power - the terrifying lust infliction - remains. You nod to yourself. Exactly according to plan.

"Hm," the Faerie Queen muses, her eyes unfocused as she too contemplates something within herself. "A rambunctious one, to be sure. We are pleased with this tribute."

"All I ask in return, oh Queen, is that I may bask in your presence for a time."

The look she gives you tells you that she knows full well that you've been studying her with sorcerer's sight since the moment you stepped out of the elevator, and why. But after a moment, she smiles.

"We suppose imitation is the greatest form of flattery," she says as wryly as an ethereal choir can. "As a fellow collector of faeries you have been gracious in sharing... and so We shall be gracious in turn, and pretend that accepting your tribute was not in itself a favor."

You incline your head in gratitude. The Faerie Queen holds out her cup for more tea. "Tomorrow you will return and take tea with Us again, and bring another tribute," she declares. "We look forward to seeing how the Quill of Heaven shall write of Our prowess."

You stretch the tea party out as long as you can after that, sipping slowly and making small talk. You do after all only have 13 more faeries to bribe her with, gotta make each one count. But when she indicates that the festivities are over by unsummoning the grinning tea-ghost, you immediately stand up and bow.

"The Songbird is putting on a performance tonight," she says instead of dismissing you. "We have, of course, been extended an invitation, but We understand that no new material will be presented at this time. You may go in Our stead."

You graciously accept first, and try to figure out what the hell she is talking about second. Sanctuary or not, mutually beneficial arrangement or not, one does not snub the Fairy Queen.

"If you are to venture out among the common people, you must first gird yourself appropriately," she announces. "Come."

You follow her to an unoccupied cell haphazardly piled with various forms of loot: Junked electronics (hard currency, in a prison full of Tinkers), candy and cigarettes (hard currency in any prison), and numerous weapons from laser guns to sharpened spoons.

(You're weirdly tempted to ask her if you can turn into a dragon and sleep atop her hoard - at least once!)

"Tribute that has been offered up to Us," she says offhandedly, gesturing for you to help yourself.

You are already armed, of course, but letting either of your weapons show up on Dragon's cameras would be a poor idea. What to pick, though? A firearm might be seen as uncouth at a social event, never mind that (unlike the non-Birdcage cape population) most people present will have powers more dangerous than a gun. On the other end of the spectrum, picking the spoon could be interpreted as spitting on the Fairy Queen's generosity.

You elect to split the difference, and settle for the most lovingly crafted prison shiv you've ever - is that handle whittled from human bone? - the second most lovingly crafted prison shiv you've ever seen. The voices have been unusually subdued ever since Five was eaten, but you're still going to need a stabbing implement before the night is over.

---

The mysterious event, as it turns out, is a Bad Canary concert. It's funny, her fans out in the world would happily pay hundreds of dollars to see her live again. Yet in here the going price of a ticket, you overhear as people wait for her to come on stage, is nine cigarettes or fifteen grams of copper.

The crowd is fairly boisterous, and there are cheers and catcalls when Canary arrives. But there's a reason people paid so much to see her live: Why take E when you can just soak in feel-good Master effects? Everyone falls silent as the first note of her song hits them - everyone except you. You hiss through clenched teeth, throw off the effect, and reflexively stab yourself in the arm for more willpower.

A couple of the people closest to you jump in shock and draw away - though as the Butcher, and a personal guest of the Fairy Queen, you were afforded quite a bit of personal space already. You see security (a guy with tinkertech earplugs) heading your way, only to stop in his tracks and turn pale when he sees who you are. You sigh and hold up empty palms in his direction. His eyes fasten on the shiv still stuck in your forearm, but he quickly decides that he's not being paid enough to hassle the Butcher about her choice of body piercings and turns away.

You've had some issues with people fucking with your emotional state lately, ok? You didn't mean to cause a scene. You can handle this. Another quick couple of stabs to top yourself up, then you put the knife away and let the song wash over you. Relaxation, it whispers in your mind, joy and calm.

You allow yourself to relax.

This is nice, Two says.

AURGHARHGHGRHGRRRH! One says, but it is distant, muted.

You know what would be really nice? Twelve says. Murdering the helpless. That guy in front of us would never see it coming.

You're next, you tell him dreamily, nodding your head in time to the music. God, this feels so good. You haven't felt this good since you stopped sleeping. Just, letting all your worries drift away. Giving up control. Who even cares if it goes wrong and the Butcher comes out and you start killing bystanders? You're in the Birdcage, it's not as if they'd be missed.

---

Over the next week you fall into a routine of boredom and tea parties, and your need for self-harm diminishes along with the number of voices in your head.

Spoiler: Director Olsen-o-vision

"That works?" Director Enfield exclaims when he understands what Dragon's footage is showing. "You can do that?"

"It would seem that this Quicksilver had plans not just to imprison the Butcher, but to kill it as well," Chief Director Costa-Brown says. "I thought her a martyr. A strong-willed one, to be sure, but I expected her to succumb to the Butcher once inside Baumann. I clearly underestimated her, in more ways than one."

"So, uh..." Director Jameson hesitantly holds up a hand. "A week from now, when she's done killing the Butcher... do we let her out? Can we let her out? Without lowering the defenses to the point that we risk a general breakout, I mean?"

"She is technically guilty of murder," Director Schumer says. "In the first degree, if this was indeed all planned from the start. The Birdcage is the appropriate-"

"That's bullshit!" I exclaim before I can stop myself. "Uh, that is- my apologies, Chief Director, I did not-"

She waves my apology away. "The Butcher only lacked a kill order for the obvious technical reasons," she says. "As you well know, Director Schumer."

"I misspoke," Schumer says. "I clearly meant to say, since she was never found guilty in a court of law, it is imperative that she be granted her freedom post-haste."

"I will reach out to Dragon, and see if such a thing is possible," Costa-Brown says. "This is assuming, of course, that the Faerie Queen is willing to part with her new toy in the first place. And that Dragon is feeling cooperative."

I wince at that. My predecessor didn't exactly cover himself in glory, diplomacy-wise.

You'd think the Birdcage would be a buffet of powers to study... but although it is the repository of all the worst psychos in North America, the ones that were too crazy have long since been culled by their peers. Even in here, people become highly uncomfortable if they notice the Butcher staring at them for too long. They tend to flee, in fact, with varying degrees of alacrity and deniability.

Since your official status in the cell block is 'guest' rather than 'lieutenant', you don't have the authority to make them stick around. And you don't want to abuse the Faerie Queen's hospitality by forcing yourself on- uh, phrasing. By chasing down and bullying her subjects. But bullying the subjects of some other warlord while under her protection and igniting an international incident on her behalf would be an even worse faux pas.

You could just ask her to grant you the authority... but she might take offense that the 'quill of heaven would write other annals before hers', or something. In the end you choose to be content with 'only' gaining fifteen powers out of this - one of them the greatest in the world, and the other fourteen with no studying time whatsoever. You're not complaining.

Instead you spend most of your free time lifting weights. You don't even know if it does anything for you beneath all the Brute powers you recently inherited, but Hollywood tells you it's one of the two great pastimes of prison inmates, and even if you had any desire to sample the other, you lack the equipment.

---

"Thank you Grail, that will be all," Glaistig Uaine says. Grail being the name of the tea-ghost, this indicates that the tea party is over. Ever since you expressed a desire for minion-free tea parties that first time, she has instead taken to summoning extra faeries in their place, addressing them by name and engaging them in one-sided conversation as they mime sipping tea. You have no idea how much of this is her being completely cuckoo, how much is childish whimsy, and how much is her messing with you.

Spoiler: Faerie-Queen-o-vision

I dismiss Lantern and Edge as well as she rises. I do prefer trembling lackeys over fairies for these affairs, but for her to study my power was the bargain we struck, and so I shall use it to its fullest each time we meet.

Oh yes, there was that petition from the lesser nobility, was there not?

"The Marquis has expressed a desire to meet with you," she says as you rise from the table. You spend several seconds trying to translates this title from cuckoo-speak before it strikes you that Marquis is the actual cape name of a villain from Brockton Bay. Got arrested, what, ten-ish years ago? Something like that. You were alive when it happened, but too young to really understand such things.

He's obviously interested in hearing how the old hometown is doing, and you see no reason not to indulge him. It beats lifting weights, and you admire his balls. The news will obviously have circulated by now that the Butcher is less murderously insane than expected, but it still takes bigger balls than any you've observed so far to invite her over.

---

Marquis wears armor of bone - his own, you recall, grown and shaped through his power before being broken off from his skeleton. He nods to acknowledge your arrival, but does not rise from where he sits. The table in front of him is laden with refreshments - though where the Queen offers tea and cookies, the Marquis offers soda and pretzels, as well as a jug of something you can only assume to be prison wine. Neither the armor nor the food is what catches your attention, though. No, that would be Lung, standing at his side. Standing, while Marquis sits. The henchman position.

You admit you're impressed. He made Lung into a minion? They clearly don't make villains like they used to. Or you suppose they do, when you think about it. This is where Quicksilver would curtsey, but you're the Butcher now. The Butcher does whatever the hell she wants... and what you want to do is bow. Marquis may not appreciate the full subtext, but you offer him the shallow but respectful bow of an equal and peer, as the person who made Shatterbird into your minion.

"Please have a seat, and help yourself," Marquis says, gesturing towards the chair opposite him.

You sit, and help yourself to a pretzel. "Thank you. I assume you want news of home?"

"In a sense. We do get television down here, and the Bay is hardly the least newsworthy place these days. But there are things the news doesn't cover."

You gesture for him to continue, your mouth too full of pretzel to interject otherwise. They're surprisingly good!

"I imagine some like you - that is to say, someone like your latest host - would follow the cape scene more closely than most. Perhaps you've even met those others would consider reclusive and mysterious?" There's a quality of barely-restrained eagerness about his voice.

"Is this about Esper?" you ask. "I'll let you in on a secret: Esper is a fucking idiot."

"Mostly I wanted to ask you about my daughter," he says softly.

"Aha!" you exclaim, snapping your fingers. That just cleared up a mystery so old you'd completely forgotten about it. "I knew the New Wave powerset could never have produced a healer!"

He can't quite hide his surprise at your deduction - he clearly expected this conversation to go long and solemn. But he rallies quickly. "Indeed, it is her. They say no one emerges from the Grove alive, but... you appear to know more than most. Is there anything you can tell me?"

You remain silent long enough to extract his soul price, just on principle. Something you didn't dare to do with the Faerie Queen, because there's a non-zero chance she'd notice.

Marquis wants his daughter to be happy.

Well, you know how those prices tend to work out, don't you? At least he cares. You'd call him a good man, but to be fair you don't know if it changed recently. Perhaps it used to be the death of New Wave, as Lisa theorized, before consecutive Endbringers granted most of it.

"I spoke to her," you admit.

"How... how is she? Is she doing well?"

"As well as can be expected," you say.

Marquis briefly closes his eyes, pain evident on his face, before lowering his gaze to stare at his hands. "I had hoped... A foolish hope, I suppose."

"Oh, she's doing well insofar as one of the greatest capes of a generation has come into her power, and established a demesne where the greatest of heroes fear to tread. Tell me, oh Marquis, does that make one happy?"

"It helps," Lung says, even as Marquis shakes his head.

"Some people need more help than others," you tell him.

 

[Kennethil]

....alright, how the fuck did Taylor know that Glaistig Uaine could take the Butcher ghosts without stealing the powers before ever laying eyes on her with Sorcerer's sight? After this was shown I find it hard to believe that she'd have been ready to accept their permanent residence in her head.

 

[ses]

Ooooh cultist simulator cameos! And yeah holy shit I'd have never guessed the FQ thing.

Sadly the training time is too long for my guess that FQ was going to end up being the hilariously useless sacred kamalah's inhalation.

With this new info on soul/shard equivalency, does this mean that FQ is Spirit-Chaining Doom and that it will work as FQ's power does rather than being useless due to lack of spirits to kill?