Watching Hellsing Abridged (tis a Masterpiece, You should watch it too!) and giggling Maniacally, Omniversal Internet access is Based, getting to chillax after having to hunt down some Deity-Wannabe (Bessy was thirsty ‘n got Reforged in the Golder Ichor (don’t ask, I have no idea how it works either)).

While getting to don heavy armor is very nice, it gets balanced out by having to fight some Degenerate Asshole that think they have the World with the little leverage Godhood brings.

Me and the Bois had fun whittling him down, piece by piece, believer by believer, limb from limb.

Kept a hand of his as a Trophy. It’s still bleeding, golden blood flowing from in ‘n out of wound’s, trying to even now close themself to stop the flow.

Much of the blood goes back in, but droplet by droplet some of the blood gives up; dripping down to the nice lil plate underneath~

The battle was long, arduous, and much of it was indirect, mostly to whittle the little shit down, I am not stupid enough to fight a God fair ‘n square, even if they bitch about it. The campaign itself was Painful as well on our part, we weren't built for that kind of powerscale, we have the Oni for that.

Now, You might be wondering “If you don’t fight by slinging spell’s around like a stupid maniac, then how do you fight?”

To which I shall answer with; Tools.

Weapon Mastery, being capable of making your own murder tools out of just about Anything, at current; most of Our Armaments are Magic-based, because in these Times just about everything is, easy to stockpile, difficult to make but worth it, built to last for Millenia.

Being incapable of most Magic’s is but a minor issue, being mostly capable of Druidry and such is enough for me.

Taking another inhale from my awesome pipe that I made from one of my horns cuz they’re awesome, and deciding that having cut them into Bessies handle Was worth it.

Life’s good~

—-—-—-—-—

*CRASH*

“The fuck was that!?”

Hurried footsteps on wood, followed by my door getting kicked open by Tonya, my *technically* secretary  “Emergency dispatch! You’re needed on the field again, Capt.”

“Fuck. Where is it.”

“uuuhh-” shifts around papyrus (becuz we have dat now) “Somewhere around Greece?”

“Doesn’t specify, constantly moving, or we have no idea?”

“Constantly moving, and no; she’s got no idea we’re onto them.”

*Sigh* getting up and starting to assemble gear “What’s the target this time?”

“A blind cyclops?”

“Why is that a question?”

“She’s human-sized, no eye, covered in blood, walking around aimlessly without much difficulty.”

“Fuck. we’re dealing with someone that has actual fucking Talent…” sighing at the prospect of having to fight someone with a Mind’s Eye.

“What else?” Having now put on my heavy armor, helmet and facemask and all that, getting my bandolier of knives and greek fire (cus while not grenade, are almost as good), Bessie, Javelins and my big-af bow, ready to go and rock some poor bastards world.

“Well…”

—-—-—-—-—

We managed to seduce the Cyclops loli (don’t ask, I have no idea either) into service for the low low price of proper hygiene, snacks, alcohol, and free housing (she was a Millennial(F)).

Free Sniper; GET.

Turns out that the scared little gal had been wandering around for a while, having no idea what to do after finding out how to survive, getting her eye gouged out (We got the cutie a replacement), and having a whole-ass revenge ark against some very specific species of Sapient fish, that barely exists as of their post genocide.

We gave Tyflos (we have no idea why she decided to name herself “Blind”, don’t ask) a biggass tower and a bow bigger than the one I have, and a magazine-fed auto-ballistae (Magic), she’s a good shot.

Petting Mofu (as the fluffy little bugger has decided to laze around in my house and demand scratches and whatnot) and getting back to reading about the exploits of the Root’s while muffled Caramelldansen is being Blasted downstairs.

That’s gonna be troublesome… I am no good at giving therapy, living for so long and dying every once in a while to go Chillax Hell, and then getting kicked out for something stupid like “Not being in the Death Book”, they don’t mind the Demon Genocide, gives you no other choice than to find peace within yourself, really. Not that I really have much of “Character Development” left anyway~

…The Byzantines have made what now? Flame-spewing metal-thing… that’s just a flamethrower!

We’re so stealing dat.