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[jericho-goat]

You and the Demon who converted you from a simple Ghost to the Spirit you are now face off against LAS VEGAS JESUS, and his trio of tiger underlings. Chaos surrounds you as the tigers proceed to tear into the underworldly denizens of the Wynn Las Vegas Breakfast Buffet. LVJ himself, however, remains fixated on Ancho, the Demon at the head of your party. The Tokyo Sour, the potion you were meant to finish drinking in order to complete your conversion to full Demon, sits, spilled, on the ground beside you

"Shit. Shit! Too slow..." Ancho mutters to herself. "Jericho. I'm afraid this is the end of the road for you. Demons respawn on dematerialization. Spirits just..."

The end of her sentence is cut off as the shining figure approaches. "Long time, no see, Demon scum! Give any more thought to my offer? Hesperia Jesus wants a promotion, and we can't line that up without her replacement in the wings."

"Serrano's already getting antsy? Not a chance I'm joining your side, bootlicker."

"Shame. Well, then I hope your aim's gotten better since last time." He rushes Ancho with his baseball bat

COMBAT OPTIONS:

GROWL (reduce defense by 1)

HEADBUTT (35 power, 100 accuracy)

NEGOTIATE

BLOCK

[jericho-goat]

im content enough to down the drink now

Your bartender hands you the drink. The fragrance from the layered cocktail is bright and fruity, yet masking the unmistakable aroma of whiskey. It also seems imbued with a certain energy. More interwoven with the fabric of the universe. You take your first sip.

Where the previous times you tried to eat anything at this buffet, you only felt hungrier and colder afterwards, now you feel a little warmer. An existential blush that you feel primarily in your cheeks and your goatly extremities. And, just a little tipsy, you begin to notice that this whole buffet is bustling with activity, both corporeal and non.

"Go on, keep going," the bartender cajoles. You take another sip.

In a metaphysical sense, you come to understand you have joined your bartender's party. That her name is Ancho, and that she is not the same type of entity you are. You wonder if this was a bad idea. Before you can pursue that particular rabbit, she SPEAKS a command.

"JERICHO, use TOKYO SOUR"

All at once, your thoughts cease to be your own. Memories scream past you, memories not only of your short previous life, but of every life you've led. Of golden sunrises and moonlit reveries, hard labor and endless leisure, of war, famine, disease. Memories you would like to spend a moment's reflection on, if only to get a sense of your place in the world.

But Ancho's SPOKEN command overrides your will. You try to hold the most concrete memory in your mind's eye, the memory of your last death. But without your permission, your body takes another sip of the cocktail.

Bit by bit, the details of the scene fade. The hooded figures at the edges of the room blur and become indistiguishable from the shadows that flicker in the candlelight. As if drunk, the room spins and falls away. The last thing you can hold on to is the instinctual half sensation of Dog teeth charging you, death and pain overwhelming you. And then that too is gone.

In its place, a bright whirlwind. You are in the Veil, the realm of the dead that hangs over perceptable reality. Your particular locality is Las Vegas, the infamous city of sin. Before you stands your party leader, Ancho, a Demon, as you've come to realize.

All around you, other entities mill about. Some have human forms, yet pass, grey and insubstantial, through the furniture, as if following a habitual path too well worn to be slowed down by the caprices of the living. Some, monstrous or animalistic, eye you curiously from tables near the buffet. A few humanoid forms, similar in appearance to Ancho, serve from the buffet. And, a minority among the Ghosts, Spirits, and Demons, a handful of living Humans eat their breakfast, apparently unaware of any of the supernatural activity happening in their vicinity.

"We're running out of time. JERICHO, us-"

A glowing white figure materializes with a glowing bang. Ancho is knocked away, falling against the chair you tried to start a beef with a few minutes ago. You are pushed back, but manage to retain your footing.

"Let's get this party jumpin'!"

He summons a shining white baseball bat in his left hand.

COMBAT ENGAGED: LAS VEGAS JESUS lv 112

WHAT DO YOU DO?

-

23.09.25 - 009-012

Jericho Goat is an interactive webcomic. Sumbit actions via asks to this blog

[jericho-goat]

you should like, try to cast magic or interact with the world in some supernatural way, to see what influence you have. if its really you that needs her, or if she needs you. like, push out our hand to like, summon a fireball or spark or something, kinda spiderman figuring out his web. just at a chair or something. not anyone

COMBAT ENGAGED: CHAIR lv 0

JERICHO used FIREBALL! ...but it failed

CHAIR passes turn

JERICHO used SPARK! ...but it failed

CHAIR passes turn JERICHO used UP UP AND AWAY WEB! ...but it failed

CHAIR RAN AWAY

COMBAT DISENGAGED - 0 EXP, 0 GOLD

Despite trying all you can think of, you cannot best the chair in combat. The spectral woman stares at you with confusion as you, from her perspective, have a particularly intense staring match with a nearby chair. "You done?" she inquires.

You sense of anticipatory dread increases, slowly but steadily.

WHAT NOW?

-

23.09.24 - 008

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[jericho-goat]

If I am eternally bound to this realm, this veil, will I stay here until I die? Will I be able to die? Can I still interact w the earth I know? Or can I only interact w what exists in the veil?

"Oh, Jericho. At the risk of sounding overplayed, you are already dead! The Ghost of a baby goat, taken too soon. How you wound up with enough of a vendeta to hang around in the Veil, rather than pass on to Heaven as most dead infants do, I couldn't tell you."

She may not know, but your memories float, half formed, through your consciousness. Jaws and pointed teeth, above all. But something before that lingers.

A dingy room. An empty stomach. A crowd of hooded figures, chanting Latin, at the periphery of your vision. But, more immediately, a taut, muscular Dog, drooling with anticipation, immediately before you. Only half extant, yet holy and deadly all the same. Your terror, and the sigil on the floor, holding you in place. The command off the master's lips. The Dog lunging towards you. Its teeth round your neck. Death, cold and red. Death, empty and hopeless. Death, hungry.

"Of course..."

The spectral woman snaps you back to the present moment, "one of the main upsides of existing in the Veil is the ability to interact with the Earthly Realm. Heaven and Hell just get to look. If you have the know-how and willpower, you could easily fuck around with humans. Or goats. I don't really know what your deal is.

"But then, you can't just consider what YOU can interact with. You have to consider what can interact with you. A Ghost like you is benign enough to be ignored. But Spirits are volotile, dangerous even. Which is why you want to down this drink, quickly now."

She pushes the drink towards you. Why do you feel a sense of urgency in her voice? It's not just her, you feel a vibration in the air coming from everywhere all at once. Something, you instinctively sense, she couldn't do herself if she tried.

"Any more questions?" she asks.

ANY MORE QUESTIONS?

-

23.09.23 - 007

(Jericho Goat is an interactive webcomic. Send prospective inputs through the ask function of this blog)

[jericho-goat]

If I am eternally bound to this realm, this veil, will I stay here until I die? Will I be able to die? Can I still interact w the earth I know? Or can I only interact w what exists in the veil?

"Oh, Jericho. At the risk of sounding overplayed, you are already dead! The Ghost of a baby goat, taken too soon. How you wound up with enough of a vendeta to hang around in the Veil, rather than pass on to Heaven as most dead infants do, I couldn't tell you."

She may not know, but your memories float, half formed, through your consciousness. Jaws and pointed teeth, above all. But something before that lingers.

A dingy room. An empty stomach. A crowd of hooded figures, chanting Latin, at the periphery of your vision. But, more immediately, a taut, muscular Dog, drooling with anticipation, immediately before you. Only half extant, yet holy and deadly all the same. Your terror, and the sigil on the floor, holding you in place. The command off the master's lips. The Dog lunging towards you. Its teeth round your neck. Death, cold and red. Death, empty and hopeless. Death, hungry.

"Of course..."

The spectral woman snaps you back to the present moment, "one of the main upsides of existing in the Veil is the ability to interact with the Earthly Realm. Heaven and Hell just get to look. If you have the know-how and willpower, you could easily fuck around with humans. Or goats. I don't really know what your deal is.

"But then, you can't just consider what YOU can interact with. You have to consider what can interact with you. A Ghost like you is benign enough to be ignored. But Spirits are volotile, dangerous even. Which is why you want to down this drink, quickly now."

She pushes the drink towards you. Why do you feel a sense of urgency in her voice? It's not just her, you feel a vibration in the air coming from everywhere all at once. Something, you instinctively sense, she couldn't do herself if she tried.

"Any more questions?" she asks.

ANY MORE QUESTIONS?

-

23.09.23 - 007

(Jericho Goat is an interactive webcomic. Send prospective inputs through the ask function of this blog)

[jericho-goat]

I would order… Tokyo sour

The spectral bartender proffers the Tokyo Sour you ordered. Just before you drink it, she pulls it back.

"Ah, ah. This one comes with terms and conditions, sweet Jericho. Don't worry, all this cold and suffering will be done by the time you finish."

Jericho? The name feels familiar, but not quite right. Like a nickname given by a former friend. You... don't remember any other name that you go by, however. So it's no worse than any other name. Jericho.

"Here's the deal, kid. From the first sip, you are bound to this plane, the Veil cast over the Earthly Realm. You can never reincarnate as another living being, or pass on to Heaven or Hell. But, you will no longer feel this all-consuming hunger you feel now.

"From the second sip, you pledge yourself to my servitude. Now I see the look on your face. Don't think of this as some type of everlasting soul contract. Just think of it as... employment. I hire all the hungry ghosts that roll through the doors of my buffet. Plus, if you do well, this will open the path to having underlings of your own.

"From the third sip, you lose all innate memory of your previous life. You can be told what happened, learn every detail, but it will feel as if you are hearing about someone else. Your link to your past will be severed. In exchange, you gain supernatural spiritual powers, the intensity of which will vary in proportion to your karmic balance at this current moment. Whatever you're owed, you get.

"But, to get what you're really after, you would need to take that fourth sip, to finish the drink. What this does, is it instills you with the divine purpose all spirits crave. If you don't finish what you start, you'll wind up aimless and destructive. A nuisance at best, a threat at worst.

"It's a big decision, I know. I'm an open book if you have any questions, sweet Jericho."

WHAT DO YOU DO?

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23.09.20 - 006

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[jericho-goat]

"You're almost there, kid. How about a beverage to round out the meal?" A spectral bartender calls to you from behind.

"Any drink you can think of. Name it."

WHAT DO YOU ORDER?

-

23.09.12 - 005

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[jericho-goat]

eat more

Surely that last plate was an aberration. You look around and spot a large, round freezer, filled with a dozen flavors of ice cream. Each a different color, each tantalizing in its own way.

You bend down to take a bite of the chocolate, scarcely registering that your head passes through the glass, intangible.

What should be creamy, sweet, delectable in your mouth just feels. Cold. Empty.

You begin to panic. Maybe it's just the chocolate. Maybe the next one will be tastier. You take a bite of the ice cream in the next bin, yellow in appearance. Again, it is flavorless. But the cold sensation seems to be spreading, as your nose feels cold as well.

One of these has got to be substantial. You try the green, then the white. You keep going, one after the other. Until you reach the first chocolate again. The cold has spread from your face to your stomach, and eventually to your whole body. You find that your hooves, initially resting on the surface of the glass freezer door, now float, effervescent, an inch or so above where they were.

You're so cold. Why is this happening?

WHAT DO YOU DO?

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23.09.11 - 004

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[jericho-goat]

goat meat

"Ah, so this is more your style? An uncommon taste, but we accomodate all sorts here," the server behind the station says slickly. "Well, don't just stand there. Come closer, don't be shy."

You approach his station. The haunch smells perversely appetizing, smoke and thyme and rosemary. He slices off a piece and sets it on a plate before you.

You eat it. It tastes like nothing.

A dreadful pit forms in your stomach. The hunger you felt before has not lessened. If anything, it has only increased. Something must be wrong. Quick, eat something else.

WHAT DO YOU DO?

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23.09.11 - 003

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[jericho-goat]

eat food

The selection is too vast for you to make a choice, and you are overwhelmed. You begin to tremble in indecision, but then a noise startles you, and you flee behind a chair.

From behind the brightly colored furniture, you see a beautiful woman in an azure gown enter the buffet hall.

"Ah, how wonderful! They haven't run out of my favorites. The ROTATING CRAB BOIL is well stocked with CRAB LEGS, the SALAD BAR has plenty of ARUGULA, and the TINY DESSERTS STATION has enough MINATURE CREME BRULEES to last a lifetime!"

All of these choices sound appetizing to you. Quick, while her back is turned!

WHAT DO YOU EAT?

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23.09.11 - 002

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[jericho-goat]

You are the GHOST of a SMALL GOAT.

The last thing you remember was the jaws of a large CANINE closing around your neck. It seems that before this, you were a very good little goat, as now, you find yourself in a SPRAWLING BUFFET in the city of LAS VEGAS. Which is very fortuitous, as you are HUNGRY.

WHAT DO YOU DO?

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23.09.11 - 001

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