Fatebreaker

Ah, another small guild seeking to grow in the Shadow of our Illustrious Bakery. Reminds me of such memorable occurrences as the Light Alley, The Mediocrely lit Alley, and the Anti-bakery. All rose in proud defiance, and all withered and died. We shall see how long this one lasts. Good luck!

Ah, you mean this little thing? As for official application, traditionally once you made a "sale" in the intro thread you'd have officially joined our ranks. That said, we don't tend to stand on formalit, as it's liable to sink unless you properly disperse your weight. As for test subjects key ingredients, we tend to "acquire" them as we see fit. We also tend to keep our Definitely-not-a-Dismal-Dungeon® well stocked with many of our more, perishable supplies. And a word of warning on the Essence Spikes. I created them on accident, but have since done considerable research on them and they're nothing to sneeze at. Careful handling and laboratory procedures are vital to ensure there is no accidental rending or partial rending of your soul.

All this activity warms my heart. Hello new and relatively new members. I would like to extend a warm welcome and congratulate you on making the intellegent choice in joining our guild. Our goal is to spread our delectable delights far and wide. We're definitely not doing our utmost to further the Science of Hemalurgy on anyone and anything that could be conceivably Spiked. DEFINITELY not. Feel free to peruse the earlier pages of the thread to see some of the other hemalurgic baking experiments other Denizens have tried. Anything that lives can be spiked sold baked goods, and quite a few things that don't exactly qualify as "alive" too! Be bold in your experiments, relentless in your sales, and enthusiastic in our neverending pursuit of Science!

I think one could help instigate the other.

I'm always happy to help destroy things in the Dalles. We could bring the Slivers back and just go nuts, triggering Arsenal and other Guard epics to lose it.

If Science is your aim, then you have indeed come to the right place! See the quartermaster for any research materials you might need, he should be in this plane of existence. Welcome to the Madness.

Sorry for the delayed response, time distortions playing havoc in the labs recently. Blasted Chronobots can't seem to grasp the difference between a minute and a decade. Anyways, Welcome new Denizen! Glad to hear our goods were not wasted on one such as yourself. Our purpose here is the pursuit of the greatest of sciences, which we go about by doing many of the things you listed and more. Selling goods at the introduction threads is a good place to start, then follow wherever your research lead you!

Glad you found it to your tastes Unfortunately I think we were going to have a Quicksilver chase scene before he rejoined the Slivers, which would mean we'd have to retcon your last post slightly. You could write a short post about the Slivers getting to an outpost of theirs in the wilderness outside town and have them wait for Quicksilver.

And that's where our highly developed clone and parallel-universe-extricator programs come in handy!

Ah Voidus, good to see you around the labs again. It's been a while since your lab has been used, so you might want to clear out some of the accumulated phantasms that tend to hide under the lab benches. Also regarding any stray Eldritch Abominations, remember that all abominations found that are older than 3 eternities must be labled as Eldritch Deities, for the purpose of tax write offs.

We stand by our statement of quality assurance.

You know, the regular stuff: butter, sugar, shortening, eggs, a consumable Faustian-bargain generator, flour, cinnamon.

Always, Winter. Always. Now would you like a snicker-doodle of the Damned, or some "Crackers"?

Well, as the writer with access to the majority of the Slivers and Quicksilver himself, I think I could help contribute to the Destruction of the Dalles. Or at least provoking Arsenal enough to make him do it There's also the Panda sitting around somewhere if we want to add extra chaos.

New Denizens are officially Welcomed by The Committee of No Real Importance. Welcome to the ranks of Science!

Fear not, you have committed no crime, as this thread never truly dies, simply oscillates in activity. Welcome to our enlightened darkness, we're happy to accept any who seek to further the baking cause!

Welcome to the Madness. Ignore those slandering cookies, they merely seek to keep them all to themselves. In the spirit of generosity and inclusion, please accept a welcome cookie. Lastly, what is your preferred point of view for narratives?

You see, the problem is your limited concept of the grander scheme. To take the circumstance of a moment as the substitute for the rest of an ever-twisting timescheme is to confine oneself to the illusion of knowledge. The Alley, may it's ovens burn perpetually, has endured trial and tribulation. At one point it consisted of a mere 3 people. But as long as the darkness of ignorance and the haze of prejudice against the Hemalurgic arts persists, we Denizens will be there to forge onward in the name of Science! So fear not, my unenlightened friend. The Dark Alley, may its darkness illuminate the Multiverse, may seem dormant, but we've harvested enough bronze ferrings to make sleep a thing of the past, and enough cadmium ferrings to make sure the sweet, toasty, cookie-scented breath of the alley shall waft enticingly through the forums for eons to come. So the question is not when we will perish, but rather, "Would you like a Cookie?"

In keeping with old habits, I have emerged from the shadowy realms where things of little and great relevance to reality occur and brought with me a post. At best you may find it engaging, at worst it will remind you of that one food you couldn't stand as a child, but were forced to eat anyway. Enjoy

Quicksilver danced with Death atop a tower of silver. His was a world of steel and fire, of iron will and burning rage. As Arsenal poured out the force of his fury in endless waves of destruction, Quicksilver fought back with relentless determination. "Come on, you shackled slave," he shouted at his unseen foe, "show this city that you're more than just a glorified pet!" This was what he craved, what his mind hungered for: a contest of giants, a clash of Gods. The metal he controlled had ceased to be a tool and had become an extension of himself. His shining arms of steel swirled around him like serpentine messengers of destruction. They twisted and spun, tearing apart Arsenal’s missiles with incredible speed and power. Some were caught, some destroyed, some deflected and sent shooting into the city. Smaller tendrils grew from the base of the pillar of metal Quicksilver had formed, seeking out nearby sources of metal to absorb and use. Cars, fire hydrants, anything Quicksilver's innate metal sense could detect was harvested to replenish any metal lost to some of the more powerful missiles. It helped that Arsenal kept building missile rigs, which provided a useful source of metal, but he wasn’t sure if it was going to be enough. He couldn’t afford to come up short in a battle like this. A missile ricocheted off a tendril and slammed into the street with a thunderous explosion. Quicksilver gritted his teeth, knowing this was more than just a physical battle, it was a contest of wills. Quicksilver could sense Arsenal’s rage growing with each passing second as the attacks grew increasingly wild and powerful. An epic like Arsenal, one who tried to control their urges of destruction, had to bottle up their never ending rage. This conflict of their will and innate, destructive purpose built a pressure like a smoldering volcano. Crack the thin crust of self control, and the molten rage would erupt out, bringing with it destruction and death. The choice to hold on to the facade of humanity grew more and more difficult with each second of indulgence. Arsenal was leaving that choice farther and farther behind, until eventually his choice would be final and his rage would be fully unleashed on the world around him. To get Arsenal to lose control would be more devastating than killing him outright. Quicksilver fought the urge to go for the rival epic directly, forcing himself to focus on the missiles. He wanted to destroy Vondra's spirit, not just his empire. It would be so much more satisfying. It felt like the battle had lasted for eternity, as Quicksilver deflected missile upon missile, destroying rig after rig. The explosions became a drumbeat, building to a crescendo of pure destruction. But then the missiles had stopped. Somehow, Arsenal had resisted the allure of total release. He had forfeited the game, depriving Quicksilver of the total victory he hungered for. He roared with primal fury, the cry resonating through the metal encasing him. He had been cheated, his triumph snatched from his very hand! Rage bubbled up like molten steel, roaring for retribution for this unacceptable indignity. But soon his iron will reasserted itself, bringing him back from the roaring tide of blood-lust. This was not a total failure, despite his initial disappointment. He took in the surrounding city, gazing upon the destruction wrought by their battle. It was as if the apocalypse had come to rest on this small city. Homes were leveled, buildings were in flames, the damage was catastrophic. People would be dead, others homeless, and the rest angry. This would be a heavy blow to the stability Vondra’s regime and the credibility of his word when it came to controlling epics. And on top of that, his Slivers had escaped the guard. What did these failures say about the power of the Guard and their ability to protect their citizens. The one significant downside had been those CHAMP missiles. Most if not all of his surveillance grid had been wiped out in a single attack, which was a devastating loss. The Guard would pay for that. It might very well be time for Quicksilver to initiate the Descent Protocol. But for now it was time to disappear, but not before leaving a parting gift. Quicksilver sucked the remaining metal off the Guard’s Central command and formed it into a statue. It was a 20 foot statue of Arsenal, standing tall with a wrathful gaze. His left hand was tightened around fracturing cross, while the other held aloft a missile. The base was rooted into the ground with long steel spikes and inscribed upon it were the words “Will gods be content to serve men?” It was the work of a moment. But it’s message would be lasting. Quicksilver then collapsed the pillar he stood on, transforming it into a sea of metal that floated around him as he sank to the street. Once he was at ground level, it swirled before transforming into a rushing river, propelling him down the street like a flood of mercury. It was time to regroup and start the next round of this game. And it would be started on Quicksilver’s terms. Pray to whatever god you serve, Stephen Vondra, for this nightmare is just beginning. Your dog has tasted freedom, and neither he nor your subjects will be content with this arrangement for much longer. The Dalles is beginning to fracture," He he casually reached out and tore a squad car in half without so much as a passing glance. "and I'm about to make it so much worse."

Remember, Fellow Denizens, to be careful with Spambots lest we incur the Wrath of Chaos and his mighty Banhammer. Be sneaky about it, and remember to use plenty of distilled pseudo-gelatin when insulating the central processors. But otherwise, knock yourselves out!

Thank you one and all for your contributions, these additions are being noted. However we are still in need of recreational activities for the students to engage in when not in class. Please continue to help us build a better experience for our treasured students. I'd say soon, but time is relative, so no one knows.

Welcome, Rage. Please make yourself at home, but mind the Tarsiers as they tend to go for the trachea. We ask that all incoming Denizens make a sale on the introduction thread. Happy Baking!