The Fall of Elfen High (IC, Closed)

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Don Quixote ignored Damien's insults, instead throwing an arm around his shoulders.

"Excellent!" he cheered, "You, my good boy, shall be my new squire!

Now, squire - I have a notion. We are souls. The dragon is made of souls. Thus, we are the dragon. And if we are the dragon, then shouldn't we start exercising more friendliness to our allies?"

"What the... how the..."

Damien sighed. "I guess there's a big control room where we can press a big red button and make the dragon nice. Because it'd make just about as much sense as anything else here. Alright team, let's go find that big red button and press it."

I fully admit this is the sole reason why a big red button suddenly appeared in front of them.

[Nationstatelandsville]

"What the... how the..."

Damien sighed. "I guess there's a big control room where we can press a big red button and make the dragon nice. Because it'd make just about as much sense as anything else here. Alright team, let's go find that big red button and press it."

I fully admit this is the sole reason why a big red button suddenly appeared in front of them.

Don Quixote has been many things; patient was never one of them. Nor was intelligent.

Which is why he instantly slapped his hand down on the diamond with a shout of "Putas!" in a way that was so enthusiastic as to suggest he wasn't quite sure what that meant any longer.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Lyra watched Caspian fight the two Fae soldiers from behind her cover and smiled as he used the sword she'd granted him. "I'm glad you liked it." She called out from behind, before turning around, settling her gaze back on Ganesh. He was thankfully in a much better shape now, or at least so she believed, since his wounds had healed, though perhaps there were some that she didn't manage to heal, and she certainly hadn't managed to do much for his psyche, but then, she was no miracle worker, this would have to do. She gave the prisoner god a reassuring smile as she switched her gaze to the monster that was currently gripping the dragonstone chain with both hands despite its burning agony and trying to tear apart the links so that Ganesh could be released. She hoped it would finish the job soon, though she didn't exactly have a way to assess its progress.

The Fae Caspian shot died quite quickly. The dragonstone chains were ripped apart, freeing Ganesh, who remained shell shocked and still. "Have your monster carry him." suggested Merlin, who had now turned around. "Guard the door for me. Don't let anyone in. I'm going to perform the Gotterdammerung ritual now."

The order of "Don't let anyone in" was easier said than done, as they heard unholy and ungodly shrieks. They saw three horrific, mutated creatures approach the door. If any here were a veteran of the Abrahamic War, they may recall seeing them before, perhaps in the videos recovered from Athens or Cairo.

Nonetheless, three of them approached, holding up their arm cannons and firing at Merlin to prevent him from casting his spell. Merlin had entered a trance-like state now, gripping Ganesh's hand. His eyes were open but now completely red, his lips muttering something in a dead language none understood. A red shield of energy protected him and Ganesh. For purposes of convenience, he had placed an illusion of a red bar at the top. As blasts hit the shield, the bar would slowly start going down.

Yes, he put up a health bar. A percentage was next to it, reading 99%. Don't let it fall to zero.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

I fully admit this is the sole reason why a big red button suddenly appeared in front of them.

Don Quixote has been many things; patient was never one of them. Nor was intelligent.

Which is why he instantly slapped his hand down on the diamond with a shout of "Putas!" in a way that was so enthusiastic as to suggest he wasn't quite sure what that meant any longer.

"That means bitch." remarked one soul, who evidently had been Spanish once*.

Once the button had been hit, all hell broke loose.

The souls turned even bluer, an almost painful shade of blue. There were screams - some from the other souls, and some quite possibly from Quixote and Damien.

On the outside, to observers there, it seemed as though the dragon was screaming in agony, glowing fiercely bright blue. Arthur watched in fascination, popcorn in hand. "This is amazing." he noted, offering Gwen some popcorn. "I have absolutely no idea what's going to happen next, actually."

On the inside, memories flashed by to Damien and Quixote, memories of each other, of the souls in the dragon.

Weren was a demon soldier trying to get by, learning Orcish and Demonic in addition to his native dialect. He joined the army for the money it offered him, fighting the Fae on the Hell front, when one day he was captured and tortured...

Amy was a young girl from Gaul, killed by a Fae soldier at the age of six. Her last thought was seeing the laughing face of the soldier as she had pulled Amy's still beating heart out of her body, using only her hands.

Saul was an angel who joined the Fae out of fear, but was eventually brainwashed and forced to serve, before being killed by Lucifer himself. It was not a dramatic battle - Saul was merely one of the many soldiers Lucifer wiped out in a single stroke without battling an eye, and served no significance to the archangel at all.

These, and thousands of memories like it, flooded to them in an instant. The pain of such exposure almost destroyed them...but they survived.

Outside, the dragon stopped glowing. Inside, the souls stopped glowing, but their whispers were still heard. But the Fae no longer drove this train. That responsibility belonged to Quixote and Damien now. Damien more than Quixote, likely, since Quixote was more likely to stay to the background. The dragon on the outside was currently docile. But let's be clear here. Now, Damien was the dragon. Those limbs were his limbs. Have a blast.

Mind, the people outside may not know this. May be worth telling Gwen. Dragons speak with underlines. But if you want quotation marks, they can always change back into the physical form of Damien or Quixote.


*In actuality, he had been named Michael Garcia. He was a Colombian soldier who had fought against the drug cartels in that country, fighting in Colombia's civil war. Michael was a loving husband and father of twin girls, and a devout Catholic. He was supposedly killed, alongside his brother, when he stepped on a landmine when going out to smoke a cigarette. However, the landmine was embeded with magic, and accidentally knocked him back to the past, though his brother was very dead. He died shortly after arrival, being killed by a giant sand worm while trying to shoot it with his assault rifle.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

The Fae Caspian shot died quite quickly. The dragonstone chains were ripped apart, freeing Ganesh, who remained shell shocked and still. "Have your monster carry him." suggested Merlin, who had now turned around. "Guard the door for me. Don't let anyone in. I'm going to perform the Gotterdammerung ritual now."

The order of "Don't let anyone in" was easier said than done, as they heard unholy and ungodly shrieks. They saw three horrific, mutated creatures approach the door. If any here were a veteran of the Abrahamic War, they may recall seeing them before, perhaps in the videos recovered from Athens or Cairo.

Nonetheless, three of them approached, holding up their arm cannons and firing at Merlin to prevent him from casting his spell. Merlin had entered a trance-like state now, gripping Ganesh's hand. His eyes were open but now completely red, his lips muttering something in a dead language none understood. A red shield of energy protected him and Ganesh. For purposes of convenience, he had placed an illusion of a red bar at the top. As blasts hit the shield, the bar would slowly start going down.

Yes, he put up a health bar. A percentage was next to it, reading 99%. Don't let it fall to zero.

The monster poked the shield a few times. Solid. Getting through was not an option, at least if they wanted Merlin to remain safe during his ceremony.

"I don't see how I'm supposed to carry him. Or where, for that matter." Lyra pointed out, before turning around to see the three mutants. The large round carapaced thing stood in front of the shield, as if to try to further absorb damage, keeping Merlin and Ganesh safe. The other creature, the one with the big fists, immensely relieved as it was for no longer having to burn its hands with the chain, charged at the three mutant beasts alongside a few other monsters, deeming them a threat to the safety of their 'mother', even if they focused on Merlin. Merlin was powerful after all, and they were in the middle of Fae territory. If there was someone who could get them out of there alive, it was probably him.

But, of course, this was not the reasoning of the monsters. Some of them couldn't even reason. This was what Lyra thought, her servants merely reacting to it as they were meant to.

The girl, herself, began drawing more creatures in order to better protect Merlin, having been given another emergency pad by one of her beasts. There were still a few monsters left, but she had to prepare for whatever trouble might arise in the near future. She was fairly sure that the bar wasn't meant to drop too low, after all, and if anything happened she had to be ready to keep it from doing so.

[Astrolinium]

Caspian shot at the new arrivals, though he somehow doubted this would have the effect it had had on the Fae.

[Nude East Ireland]

Damien blinked.

After a moment of silence, he changed back into his physical form - his original, English boy form. Looking at Arthur and Gwen, he had a wide grin. "This... this is fucking awesome," he noted, running up to the two. "I have no idea what the fuck just happened. There was a Mexican - lots of Mexicans actually. Well, they're not really Mexican, but that doesn't really matter. The point is, I'm a dragon now. That's right, you heard it; I, Damien Percival Seward, am a motherfucking dragon."

He looked at Gwen and smiled. "You know, I think the fact that I'm a dragon now means that our date is more likely to happen.

Also, I know Spanish fluently now."

---

Anton saw William and the seraphim. "Hang in there, kid!" he tried to yell over the seraphim song.

Assuming a crouching position, Anton pulled his right hand back and squeezed his fist tightly. Then, he ran.

And as he ran, the momentum and the speed built up. And up. And up. His fist, still held back, began to spark and burn until it became surrounded by flames. Pure, white flames. As Anton ran he felt faint. He was putting all of his energy into this. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," he muttered in-between breaths, "This is for Tim and Mary and Barbara and Minh - THIS IS FOR MY FAMILY YOU MOTHERFUCKING CUNTS!"

And when he reached one of the seraphim, he performed a mother-fucking, god-damned uppercut of balls-out, dick-waving, flame-fisting action that made the spot where his feet left the ground explode.

[Constaniana]

The seraphim simply disappeared.

They reappeared in a close huddle around William, blasting their horns even closer to his face. This time, though they played a different song. This was a song that rattled the knight's bones, turned his muscles into hot pudding, tore all his tendons and ripped his ligaments. This song melted the eyes from his skull, burned his mind alive, and stabbed hot knives into his soul.

It hurt, in other words, forcing the knight to his knees.

This degree of pain was just as alien to William as the unspeakable fear was. He was accustomed to being nigh-invincible; his skin had had become stronger than the armour of a battleship and he had his healing magic and fighting reflexes to complement his godly defence. But they were all as useful as crumbling bread against the demented blasts. Sir Nilark cursed the pain, cursed the fear, cursed Uriel, and cursed those damned horns most of all. William could be a stubborn man, and disliked kneeling in general, making exceptions to his sovereign, Hilde, and the times when he felt in a prayerful mood. He knew he wasn't the best of knights, but this was an assault on what honour he had, and it sickened him. But then he heard a faint sound, and noticed Anton rushing towards him. It was a noble gesture, but judging from what the seraphim had done so far they would simply knock him down with their cheating horns as well.

And then William grinned.

The seraphim had made a mistake. A rather costly one. Getting so close to him let them blast right in his ears, but it also put them within easy reach of his sword arm. Ignoring the pain coursing through him, William rose up and drew Excalibur. At this close a distance his reflexes were guaranteed to hit where he swung for the first few moments, and that was all it took for him to strike in a circle and bring the mightiest of swords slicing through the seraphim's horns. Anton was then uppercutting the snot out of one seraphim, and Ciel was about to smash one with her hammer, so it fell to Sir Nilark to dispatch the other two, by means of a horizontal sword swing coated in his offensive magic for extra damage.

[Nationstatelandsville]

Ciel saw the cherub and yelled in fright, raising her hammer in front of her as if to protect herself from whatever was coming. Normally, she wouldn't have reacted like this, but then, normally, she wouldn't be so scared. All this fear was being forced upon her, and it was causing her to act erratically. Thankfully, Lewis and Aziraphale, the latter only due to the circumstances, had managed to throw the cherub's blade off-course, giving her some moments to clear her head as much as she could and think of what to do now. The one thing she knew was that there wasn't a whole lot she could do to the cherub without getting some kind of magical artifact or something like that, so she figured that she'd better run elsewhere and do something about the other angels, the ones she could actually hurt.

"Yeah... You guys handle this, I can't do shit to that thing. I'll go see what else I can do." She said, before running off, quickly noticing William's situation and attempting to help by increasing the weight multiplier in her hammer and bringing it down upon one of the seraphim.

Ow, or the angelic equivalent thereof, was the last thought that the angel had before the shattered pieces of its skull put an end to any and all brain activity, except for a dull pain that continued on, whispering to a mindless, crippled body for some time.

Swords are cool, but sometimes, nothing beats the blunt force approach.

Frederick, meanwhile, stepped to the side and then raised his arm once again, continuing to fire against the ophanim. If he could hurt them this way he was sure as hell going to abuse it.

The ophan did not seem to like this very much; and neither did the cherub accompanying it, which winced in pain.

It did not like it so much it teleported behind Fred and began desperately swinging its shield at him in a maddened attempt to kill the annoying little human.

Anton saw William and the seraphim. "Hang in there, kid!" he tried to yell over the seraphim song.

Assuming a crouching position, Anton pulled his right hand back and squeezed his fist tightly. Then, he ran.

And as he ran, the momentum and the speed built up. And up. And up. His fist, still held back, began to spark and burn until it became surrounded by flames. Pure, white flames. As Anton ran he felt faint. He was putting all of his energy into this. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," he muttered in-between breaths, "This is for Tim and Mary and Barbara and Minh - THIS IS FOR MY FAMILY YOU MOTHERFUCKING CUNTS!"

And when he reached one of the seraphim, he performed a mother-fucking, god-damned uppercut of balls-out, dick-waving, flame-fisting action that made the spot where his feet left the ground explode.

The seraph - which, like the others of its species, was surprisingly delicate - hurtled high into the sky, and smacked down on the ground next to Damien; bleeding and broken, it wailed out a cry of despair that touched every heart around it. Touched them so much, in fact, that they wanted nothing more than to die as well. For what was a world with sadness like that?

Lewis wept.

"Are you OK?" Aziraphale said, rolling his neck and realigning his spinal cord, "This is out-of-character."

Silently, Lewis wrapped his hands around his own throat, desperate to stop the air flow. Aziraphale yelped in shock and tore Lewis's arms away from him, leading to quite the awkward battle. The rest were struggling with similar feelings of woe.

The seraphim simply disappeared.

They reappeared in a close huddle around William, blasting their horns even closer to his face. This time, though they played a different song. This was a song that rattled the knight's bones, turned his muscles into hot pudding, tore all his tendons and ripped his ligaments. This song melted the eyes from his skull, burned his mind alive, and stabbed hot knives into his soul.

It hurt, in other words, forcing the knight to his knees.

This degree of pain was just as alien to William as the unspeakable fear was. He was accustomed to being nigh-invincible; his skin had had become stronger than the armour of a battleship and he had his healing magic and fighting reflexes to complement his godly defence. But they were all as useful as crumbling bread against the demented blasts. Sir Nilark cursed the pain, cursed the fear, cursed Uriel, and cursed those damned horns most of all. William could be a stubborn man, and disliked kneeling in general, making exceptions to his sovereign, Hilde, and the times when he felt in a prayerful mood. He knew he wasn't the best of knights, but this was an assault on what honour he had, and it sickened him. But then he heard a faint sound, and noticed Anton rushing towards him. It was a noble gesture, but judging from what the seraphim had done so far they would simply knock him down with their cheating horns as well.

And then William grinned.

The seraphim had made a mistake. A rather costly one. Getting so close to him let them blast right in his ears, but it also put them within easy reach of his sword arm. Ignoring the pain coursing through him, William rose up and drew Excalibur. At this close a distance his reflexes were guaranteed to hit where he swung for the first few moments, and that was all it took for him to strike in a circle and bring the mightiest of swords slicing through the seraphim's horns. Anton was then uppercutting the snot out of one seraphim, and Ciel was about to smash one with her hammer, so it fell to Sir Nilark to dispatch the other two, by means of a horizontal sword swing coated in his offensive magic for extra damage.

William's sword made it halfway through one seraph, embedding itself in the spine, before stopping.

William was too weak to continue, to laden with mourning and futility; what, exactly, was the point of fighting? What was the point of living?

As such thoughts began to consume its master, Excalibur would find itself unaffected - and pissed.

Calliel abruptly appeared, arms wrapped around Fen and Grace, sombreros planted firmly on the heads of each and a lei wrapped around Calliel's neck, sunglasses planted on his nose.

"I..." he muttered, "have no idea how this happened."

They would find the scene around them no less strange.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

After smashing the seraphim to bits, Ciel raised her hammer, resting it on her shoulder, and sighed with relief. An enemy had been slain by her hand. It was quite an uplifting thought, especially considering the nigh-crippling terror that had been thrust into her mind moments before. Looking around, she noticed that there were still a few seraphim left, and raised her hammer with both hands once again, ready to leap at one of them and crush it like she had done with its ally moments before. The magnitude of the fear that had been afflicting her was beginning to drop, and she found herself better in control of her senses and actions once again, ready to fight.

Then she dropped the hammer carelessly, letting it hit the ground with considerable force as she too fell to her knees, the seraph's cry of pain having overriden her previous intentions. No longer did she think of winning the fight, of defeating Uriel and ending the war, now her thoughts were of worlds destroyed and a dead best friend. She let herself fall to the ground just like her hammer had, curling up and just lying there, waiting for the angels to take her. She didn't feel like fighting anymore, something that was likely evident by her quiet sobbing.


Elsewhere, Frederick continued firing relentlessly at the ophanim, hoping to eventually strike at the eye amidst the spinning rings, which, he expected, would kill the thing, or at least cause it much more pain than it had felt so far. He didn't quite notice that the cherub that was with the ophan was being affected as well, focused as he was on keeping his aim steady to kill the damn thing, but he was quite alert and aware of his surroundings, and noticed when something appeared behind him, immediately jumping forward to avoid being struck by the creature, though this and the rumbling caused by the cherub's monstruous shield-bash were enough to throw off his aim momentarily.

By the next moment he was surprised to find that he didn't really care to continue firing.

For some reason, continuing the attack on the ophanim seemed like an entirely pointless task. There didn't seem to be much of a point in continuing to fight, either, and the dragonslayer found that death seemed very enticing at the moment. The sensation was not unfamiliar. Frederick had wanted to die before, but this time, it was quite obviously alien. Forced upon him. He could tell because he had felt that way before, and yet, it was difficult to oppose the feeling. After all, what greater comfort was there than eternal oblivion?

But then, his instincts, the instincts of a warrior, overtook his body, reminding him of the imminent threat, and his hands found themselves gripping the edge of a large shield which was about to impact him, exerting his olympian strength to keep his assailant from overpowering him.

"No, not today, either." The man said to himself as he stood his ground. He understood, it was just a trick, an illusion thrust upon him to try to make him lose his grip on reality. And illusions, he had already faced, far too many times. Jumping away from the cherub and continuing to fire at the ophanim, he let out a mental roar, the kind of bellow that did not need to be audible over the noise of battle in order to be heard.

"Keep fighting! It's just an illusion, you mustn't give in to it. We have a mission!" He shouted into the heads of his companions, hoping to keep them from doing something stupid in the middle of a war.

[Constaniana]

"Whingy cunt!" Excalibur snarled in William's mind, but the knight was too saddened by the wail of the dying seraphim to give any heed to the sword. "You didn't sink into crippling despair as London burnt around you and the undead tried to kill you! You're completely fine with the idea of spending the rest of your life with Fuhrer Titties, despite the fact that her personality can be completely summed up with the word bitch! The William I've spent the past decade isn't some crybaby who curls up on the floor because of some psychological dickery! Go with the advice of Major Badass McGun-Hands, King of the Penguins and lifetime member of the Pimpin' Badass and Cool Folks Golf Club and Spa!"

"You're doing it wrong, Excalibur," said a tired, feminine voice in Nilark's head. "At times like this there's no point trying to gently guide him. He'll thank us for this later."

"Who the hell are you?" the mythical weapon snapped.

"The first weird voice floating around in his head," Sheila snarked, before taking control of William Nilark's body again for the first time in twelve years. The knight's movements were stiff and awkward for a few moments as the A.I got used to the longer legs and burlier arms her little Eddie had grown in, but she managed to give the new allied arrivals a friendly nod before finishing the job her host had started, rending through the delicate seraphim's spine.

"Now that's more like it!" Excalibur thought, evidently pleased with the strange voice's violence. "It's been too long since I've had a good, brutal slaughter. William has too many objections like 'that's illegal' or 'substandard chips isn't a decapitating offence any more, and never has been'. This will be fun."

William's eyes had been glowing a slightly brighter shade of green because of the A.I's control, but now the sclera began to be rimmed with a dark, bloody crimson. The knight grinned as if it was his birthday and Hilde and Sophie were both naked on his bed with a cake. Excalibur swung itself at the seraphim it had been embedded in a few more times, until Excalibur was content with the mutilation. William's body then turned to the cherub that had tried clubbing Fred with a shield, still grinning widely.

"CHOMP ON THIS, YE SWEATY GIT!" Excalibur roared with William's voice, firing a large radiant blast straight at the cherub. "You're a bloody loony." Sheila grumbled mentally.

[Nationstatelandsville]

After smashing the seraphim to bits, Ciel raised her hammer, resting it on her shoulder, and sighed with relief. An enemy had been slain by her hand. It was quite an uplifting thought, especially considering the nigh-crippling terror that had been thrust into her mind moments before. Looking around, she noticed that there were still a few seraphim left, and raised her hammer with both hands once again, ready to leap at one of them and crush it like she had done with its ally moments before. The magnitude of the fear that had been afflicting her was beginning to drop, and she found herself better in control of her senses and actions once again, ready to fight.

Then she dropped the hammer carelessly, letting it hit the ground with considerable force as she too fell to her knees, the seraph's cry of pain having overriden her previous intentions. No longer did she think of winning the fight, of defeating Uriel and ending the war, now her thoughts were of worlds destroyed and a dead best friend. She let herself fall to the ground just like her hammer had, curling up and just lying there, waiting for the angels to take her. She didn't feel like fighting anymore, something that was likely evident by her quiet sobbing.

This became an exceptionally difficult action to justify when one of the ophanim appeared behind her and inched closely, burning bright with the fires of the Lord and approaching with malicious intent.

"Fuck off!" Aziraphale shouted, appearing between Ciel and the other angel, forming a dome of ice around them. But the ophan was indeed quite hot, and the ice began rapidly to melt; it took all of Aziaraphale's strength simply to maintain the shield, and the ophan was growing rapidly hotter. Moreover, the humidity from the air inside was very quickly stripped away, forcing Aziraphale to draw the water from his own body. Dehydrated in an instant, it was becoming more and more difficult to simply stay conscious.

"Damn it, girl!" he spat - or, at least, he attempted to.

Elsewhere, Frederick continued firing relentlessly at the ophanim, hoping to eventually strike at the eye amidst the spinning rings, which, he expected, would kill the thing, or at least cause it much more pain than it had felt so far. He didn't quite notice that the cherub that was with the ophan was being affected as well, focused as he was on keeping his aim steady to kill the damn thing, but he was quite alert and aware of his surroundings, and noticed when something appeared behind him, immediately jumping forward to avoid being struck by the creature, though this and the rumbling caused by the cherub's monstruous shield-bash were enough to throw off his aim momentarily.

By the next moment he was surprised to find that he didn't really care to continue firing.

For some reason, continuing the attack on the ophanim seemed like an entirely pointless task. There didn't seem to be much of a point in continuing to fight, either, and the dragonslayer found that death seemed very enticing at the moment. The sensation was not unfamiliar. Frederick had wanted to die before, but this time, it was quite obviously alien. Forced upon him. He could tell because he had felt that way before, and yet, it was difficult to oppose the feeling. After all, what greater comfort was there than eternal oblivion?

But then, his instincts, the instincts of a warrior, overtook his body, reminding him of the imminent threat, and his hands found themselves gripping the edge of a large shield which was about to impact him, exerting his olympian strength to keep his assailant from overpowering him.

"No, not today, either." The man said to himself as he stood his ground. He understood, it was just a trick, an illusion thrust upon him to try to make him lose his grip on reality. And illusions, he had already faced, far too many times. Jumping away from the cherub and continuing to fire at the ophanim, he let out a mental roar, the kind of bellow that did not need to be audible over the noise of battle in order to be heard.

"Keep fighting! It's just an illusion, you mustn't give in to it. We have a mission!" He shouted into the heads of his companions, hoping to keep them from doing something stupid in the middle of a war.

In his distraction, Fred forgot that he had a very large and very pissed giant behind him. The cherub quickly rectified this by smashing the butt of its blade into the dragonslayer's right ear - which was very painful indeed, if not fatal for a man of lesser strength than Fred.

"Dragonslayer," it growled, smiling just a bit, "Angels were born to kill dragonslayers!"

The right side of the cherub's head exploded; it fell to the ground, reforming. However, as its flesh began to mend, so too did it begin to melt - and it melted far faster than it mended. Within a few seconds, the cherub's head was nothing more than a puddle of bubbling gray semisolid; Fred's skin turned a slightly redder shade.

"And I," Lewis said slowly, approaching the dead angel, "was born to kill angels."

"Whingy cunt!" Excalibur snarled in William's mind, but the knight was too saddened by the wail of the dying seraphim to give any heed to the sword. "You didn't sink into crippling despair as London burnt around you and the undead tried to kill you! You're completely fine with the idea of spending the rest of your life with Fuhrer Titties, despite the fact that her personality can be completely summed up with the word bitch! The William I've spent the past decade isn't some crybaby who curls up on the floor because of some psychological dickery! Go with the advice of Major Badass McGun-Hands, King of the Penguins and lifetime member of the Pimpin' Badass and Cool Folks Golf Club and Spa!"

"You're doing it wrong, Excalibur," said a tired, feminine voice in Nilark's head. "At times like this there's no point trying to gently guide him. He'll thank us for this later."

"Who the hell are you?" the mythical weapon snapped.

"The first weird voice floating around in his head," Sheila snarked, before taking control of William Nilark's body again for the first time in twelve years. The knight's movements were stiff and awkward for a few moments as the A.I got used to the longer legs and burlier arms her little Eddie had grown in, but she managed to give the new allied arrivals a friendly nod before finishing the job her host had started, rending through the delicate seraphim's spine.

"Now that's more like it!" Excalibur thought, evidently pleased with the strange voice's violence. "It's been too long since I've had a good, brutal slaughter. William has too many objections like 'that's illegal' or 'substandard chips isn't a decapitating offence any more, and never has been'. This will be fun."

William's eyes had been glowing a slightly brighter shade of green because of the A.I's control, but now the sclera began to be rimmed with a dark, bloody crimson. The knight grinned as if it was his birthday and Hilde and Sophie were both naked on his bed with a cake. Excalibur swung itself at the seraphim it had been embedded in a few more times, until Excalibur was content with the mutilation. William's body then turned to the cherub that had tried clubbing Fred with a shield, still grinning widely.

"CHOMP ON THIS, YE SWEATY GIT!" Excalibur roared with William's voice, firing a large radiant blast straight at the cherub. "You're a bloody loony." Sheila grumbled mentally.

This missed, obviously, as the cherub was dead. I didn't need anyone to point that out to me.

For the time being, a seraph took the practical route and smacked its horn hard against the back of William's head, the metal warping around him.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

The dragonslayer exhaled through his mouth in a short, sharp, disdainful sound, before speaking partially to the molten remains of the cherub that had attacked him and partially to the ophan which was likely still being battered by his relentless assault, which was only temporarily stopped when the cherub's blow had caused him a rather distracting ammount of pain and made him lose his aim. "Born?" He asked with a mix of sarcasm and aggressive incredulity. "You won't kill me until you learn." He stated, not with confidence or arrogance, but with a weary severity of sorts, before stepping away from the molten pool of gray waste, continuing to fire at the ophan and crossing his right arm under his left one in order to also fire at the ophan attacking Ciel and Aziraphale at the same time.


Ciel, meanwhile, noticed an increment in the heat of her immediate area, as well as a shadow suddenly being cast over her, followed this time by a steep drop in the temperature. She noticed Aziraphale's voice shouting at an enemy she hadn't thus far bothered to look up at, likely trying to fend it off. Finally, this and the roar in her head caused her to get up and look at the scene in front of her, only to hear Aziraphale's struggled words and realize that he was trying to protect her. Why, she had no idea, it didn't seem like a very worthwhile cause to her still clouded mind, but, pushing this thought aside, she told herself that she didn't want anyone else to die because of her. Raising her hammer, she increased its weight a great deal before stepping in front of Aziraphale and attempting to bring it down upon the ophan with a battle cry.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

The Fae Caspian shot died quite quickly. The dragonstone chains were ripped apart, freeing Ganesh, who remained shell shocked and still. "Have your monster carry him." suggested Merlin, who had now turned around. "Guard the door for me. Don't let anyone in. I'm going to perform the Gotterdammerung ritual now."

The order of "Don't let anyone in" was easier said than done, as they heard unholy and ungodly shrieks. They saw three horrific, mutated creatures approach the door. If any here were a veteran of the Abrahamic War, they may recall seeing them before, perhaps in the videos recovered from Athens or Cairo.

Nonetheless, three of them approached, holding up their arm cannons and firing at Merlin to prevent him from casting his spell. Merlin had entered a trance-like state now, gripping Ganesh's hand. His eyes were open but now completely red, his lips muttering something in a dead language none understood. A red shield of energy protected him and Ganesh. For purposes of convenience, he had placed an illusion of a red bar at the top. As blasts hit the shield, the bar would slowly start going down.

Yes, he put up a health bar. A percentage was next to it, reading 99%. Don't let it fall to zero.

The monster poked the shield a few times. Solid. Getting through was not an option, at least if they wanted Merlin to remain safe during his ceremony.

"I don't see how I'm supposed to carry him. Or where, for that matter." Lyra pointed out, before turning around to see the three mutants. The large round carapaced thing stood in front of the shield, as if to try to further absorb damage, keeping Merlin and Ganesh safe. The other creature, the one with the big fists, immensely relieved as it was for no longer having to burn its hands with the chain, charged at the three mutant beasts alongside a few other monsters, deeming them a threat to the safety of their 'mother', even if they focused on Merlin. Merlin was powerful after all, and they were in the middle of Fae territory. If there was someone who could get them out of there alive, it was probably him.

But, of course, this was not the reasoning of the monsters. Some of them couldn't even reason. This was what Lyra thought, her servants merely reacting to it as they were meant to.

The girl, herself, began drawing more creatures in order to better protect Merlin, having been given another emergency pad by one of her beasts. There were still a few monsters left, but she had to prepare for whatever trouble might arise in the near future. She was fairly sure that the bar wasn't meant to drop too low, after all, and if anything happened she had to be ready to keep it from doing so.

The monsters attacked the new arrivals, who blasted away with their arm cannons. It was a remarkably even fight - for the sake of usefulness, Merlin placed health bars on all the combatants - the monsters had very high health bars, much higher than Lyra's drawings.

Caspian shot at the new arrivals, though he somehow doubted this would have the effect it had had on the Fae.

Caspian's gun, however, caused a good deal of damage to the creatures, denting the health bars and causing them to scream. That distracted them enough to be further savaged by Lyra's beasts.

Perhaps now he'd see guns were helpful.

[Astrolinium]

Caspian pulled out another gun and started shooting that, too.

He smiled.

"Guns are pretty fun, though."

He kept smiling.

[Agritum]

Damien blinked.

After a moment of silence, he changed back into his physical form - his original, English boy form. Looking at Arthur and Gwen, he had a wide grin. "This... this is fucking awesome," he noted, running up to the two. "I have no idea what the fuck just happened. There was a Mexican - lots of Mexicans actually. Well, they're not really Mexican, but that doesn't really matter. The point is, I'm a dragon now. That's right, you heard it; I, Damien Percival Seward, am a motherfucking dragon."

He looked at Gwen and smiled. "You know, I think the fact that I'm a dragon now means that our date is more likely to happen.

Also, I know Spanish fluently now."

---

Anton saw William and the seraphim. "Hang in there, kid!" he tried to yell over the seraphim song.

Assuming a crouching position, Anton pulled his right hand back and squeezed his fist tightly. Then, he ran.

And as he ran, the momentum and the speed built up. And up. And up. His fist, still held back, began to spark and burn until it became surrounded by flames. Pure, white flames. As Anton ran he felt faint. He was putting all of his energy into this. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," he muttered in-between breaths, "This is for Tim and Mary and Barbara and Minh - THIS IS FOR MY FAMILY YOU MOTHERFUCKING CUNTS!"

And when he reached one of the seraphim, he performed a mother-fucking, god-damned uppercut of balls-out, dick-waving, flame-fisting action that made the spot where his feet left the ground explode.

Gwen remained still for a few seconds, evidently surprised by Damien's apparent new status as a morphing dragon, but quickly regained her composure. She was used to witnessing strange thing, anyways.

Ignoring his date talk, the British queen sheathed Excalibur and began to speak. "First of all, now you will explain me what exactly happened when you and that Spanish-speaking man were swallowed by that dragon. Secondly, you must tell me where that man is, right now. I guess he didn't make it, did he? Thirdly, I'm single and I'd prefer to remain so, thanks."

[Nude East Ireland]

Damien blinked.

After a moment of silence, he changed back into his physical form - his original, English boy form. Looking at Arthur and Gwen, he had a wide grin. "This... this is fucking awesome," he noted, running up to the two. "I have no idea what the fuck just happened. There was a Mexican - lots of Mexicans actually. Well, they're not really Mexican, but that doesn't really matter. The point is, I'm a dragon now. That's right, you heard it; I, Damien Percival Seward, am a motherfucking dragon."

He looked at Gwen and smiled. "You know, I think the fact that I'm a dragon now means that our date is more likely to happen.

Also, I know Spanish fluently now."

---

Anton saw William and the seraphim. "Hang in there, kid!" he tried to yell over the seraphim song.

Assuming a crouching position, Anton pulled his right hand back and squeezed his fist tightly. Then, he ran.

And as he ran, the momentum and the speed built up. And up. And up. His fist, still held back, began to spark and burn until it became surrounded by flames. Pure, white flames. As Anton ran he felt faint. He was putting all of his energy into this. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," he muttered in-between breaths, "This is for Tim and Mary and Barbara and Minh - THIS IS FOR MY FAMILY YOU MOTHERFUCKING CUNTS!"

And when he reached one of the seraphim, he performed a mother-fucking, god-damned uppercut of balls-out, dick-waving, flame-fisting action that made the spot where his feet left the ground explode.

Gwen remained still for a few seconds, evidently surprised by Damien's apparent new status as a morphing dragon, but quickly regained her composure. She was used to witnessing strange thing, anyways.

Ignoring his date talk, the British queen sheathed Excalibur and began to speak. "First of all, now you will explain me what exactly happened when you and that Spanish-speaking man were swallowed by that dragon. Secondly, you must tell me where that man is, right now. I guess he didn't make it, did he? Thirdly, I'm single and I'd prefer to remain so, thanks."

Damien smirked.

"First of all, we met the souls previously consumed by the dragon and convinced them all to break free of its control. Secondly, Don Juan McDumbass is probably inside of me with the other souls. Thirdly, I'll take that as a maybe. And you're very welcome, madame."

He looked into the air and spat out a ball of fire, which gradually grew larger until it silently disappeared somewhere high in the sky. Evidently having an idea about his newfound power, Damien decided to take on the appearance of Jade Gates - because deep down, Damien still really hated James - before also trying out Crowley, Lewis, and Sanchez. Returning to his original human form, his grin was a bit adorable, like a child with a new toy. Yet something about it was terrifying.

[Nationstatelandsville]

Gwen remained still for a few seconds, evidently surprised by Damien's apparent new status as a morphing dragon, but quickly regained her composure. She was used to witnessing strange thing, anyways.

Ignoring his date talk, the British queen sheathed Excalibur and began to speak. "First of all, now you will explain me what exactly happened when you and that Spanish-speaking man were swallowed by that dragon. Secondly, you must tell me where that man is, right now. I guess he didn't make it, did he? Thirdly, I'm single and I'd prefer to remain so, thanks."

Damien smirked.

"First of all, we met the souls previously consumed by the dragon and convinced them all to break free of its control. Secondly, Don Juan McDumbass is probably inside of me with the other souls. Thirdly, I'll take that as a maybe. And you're very welcome, madame."

He looked into the air and spat out a ball of fire, which gradually grew larger until it silently disappeared somewhere high in the sky. Evidently having an idea about his newfound power, Damien decided to take on the appearance of Jade Gates - because deep down, Damien still really hated James - before also trying out Crowley, Lewis, and Sanchez. Returning to his original human form, his grin was a bit adorable, like a child with a new toy. Yet something about it was terrifying.

Marvelous work, squire! Don Quixote shouted in his head, Now, onwards, to victory! These monsters must be stopped!

[Zarkenis Ultima]

The monsters attacked the new arrivals, who blasted away with their arm cannons. It was a remarkably even fight - for the sake of usefulness, Merlin placed health bars on all the combatants - the monsters had very high health bars, much higher than Lyra's drawings.

Caspian shot at the new arrivals, though he somehow doubted this would have the effect it had had on the Fae.

Caspian's gun, however, caused a good deal of damage to the creatures, denting the health bars and causing them to scream. That distracted them enough to be further savaged by Lyra's beasts.

Perhaps now he'd see guns were helpful.

Lyra watched as her monsters battled the other monsters (Who were, surprisingly, much uglier this time), simply hanging back and observing them, noticing that health bars suddenly appeared on top of everyone present. Lyra saw the ones belonging to creatures hit by the arm cannons drop considerably, most of them being struck down by one blast, though a few did manage to continue fighting after taking a hit. As she watched this all transpire in front of her, Lyra became curious and looked up, noticing a tiny little red rectangle above her. She sighed. It probably made a lot of sense for it to be that small and she knew it, but she wasn't exactly happy to see it illustrated like that.

Either way, she continued watching the fight, and saw that Caspian's gun did a lot of damage to the armcannon-wielding monsters, and so she had an idea. Quickly, she began drawing, eventually causing something to appear next to her: A revolver.

If revolvers had been invented for people twice as big as humans, anyway. And what better creature to wield such a weapon than the vaguely humanoid creature that was twice as tall as a grown man and had appeared next to Lyra moments afterwards?

The creature began firing at the enemy as well as the girl continued drawing, wondering if she'd actually need more of those things to keep the arm-cannon monsters away from Merlin.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Gwen remained still for a few seconds, evidently surprised by Damien's apparent new status as a morphing dragon, but quickly regained her composure. She was used to witnessing strange thing, anyways.

Ignoring his date talk, the British queen sheathed Excalibur and began to speak. "First of all, now you will explain me what exactly happened when you and that Spanish-speaking man were swallowed by that dragon. Secondly, you must tell me where that man is, right now. I guess he didn't make it, did he? Thirdly, I'm single and I'd prefer to remain so, thanks."

Damien smirked.

"First of all, we met the souls previously consumed by the dragon and convinced them all to break free of its control. Secondly, Don Juan McDumbass is probably inside of me with the other souls. Thirdly, I'll take that as a maybe. And you're very welcome, madame."

He looked into the air and spat out a ball of fire, which gradually grew larger until it silently disappeared somewhere high in the sky. Evidently having an idea about his newfound power, Damien decided to take on the appearance of Jade Gates - because deep down, Damien still really hated James - before also trying out Crowley, Lewis, and Sanchez. Returning to his original human form, his grin was a bit adorable, like a child with a new toy. Yet something about it was terrifying.

Very nice. commented Michael Garcia in their head. But don't you have a mission to get to? Like helping out your friends and Merlin?

[Nude East Ireland]

Damien sighed. How many Mexicans are inside my head right now? I guess it doesn't matter.

He proceeded to where Merlin and company were, noting the presence of monsters. "What's up, bitches?" Damien announced. He proceeded to assume the form of a dragon, breathing wave upon wave of fire onto the enemy monsters.

"Damien Seward, monster hunter and dragon, at your service." Certainly he would need to explain to Merlin and Caspian and Lyra and everyone else, but for now he hoped they would just accept this and allow him to destroy these monsters.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Damien sighed. How many Mexicans are inside my head right now? I guess it doesn't matter.

He proceeded to where Merlin and company were, noting the presence of monsters. "What's up, bitches?" Damien announced. He proceeded to assume the form of a dragon, breathing wave upon wave of fire onto the enemy monsters.

"Damien Seward, monster hunter and dragon, at your service." Certainly he would need to explain to Merlin and Caspian and Lyra and everyone else, but for now he hoped they would just accept this and allow him to destroy these monsters.

Damien felt a sudden jolt of pain in his head. I'm Colombian. rebuked Garcia.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

The monsters attacked the new arrivals, who blasted away with their arm cannons. It was a remarkably even fight - for the sake of usefulness, Merlin placed health bars on all the combatants - the monsters had very high health bars, much higher than Lyra's drawings.


Caspian's gun, however, caused a good deal of damage to the creatures, denting the health bars and causing them to scream. That distracted them enough to be further savaged by Lyra's beasts.

Perhaps now he'd see guns were helpful.

Lyra watched as her monsters battled the other monsters (Who were, surprisingly, much uglier this time), simply hanging back and observing them, noticing that health bars suddenly appeared on top of everyone present. Lyra saw the ones belonging to creatures hit by the arm cannons drop considerably, most of them being struck down by one blast, though a few did manage to continue fighting after taking a hit. As she watched this all transpire in front of her, Lyra became curious and looked up, noticing a tiny little red rectangle above her. She sighed. It probably made a lot of sense for it to be that small and she knew it, but she wasn't exactly happy to see it illustrated like that.

Either way, she continued watching the fight, and saw that Caspian's gun did a lot of damage to the armcannon-wielding monsters, and so she had an idea. Quickly, she began drawing, eventually causing something to appear next to her: A revolver.

If revolvers had been invented for people twice as big as humans, anyway. And what better creature to wield such a weapon than the vaguely humanoid creature that was twice as tall as a grown man and had appeared next to Lyra moments afterwards?

The creature began firing at the enemy as well as the girl continued drawing, wondering if she'd actually need more of those things to keep the arm-cannon monsters away from Merlin.

They blew the enemy arm cannon monsters out quickly, though twenty more came in.

Merlin muttered to himself, Ganesh's hand in his own. "I, Merlin the Bastard, known also as Myrddin Wyllt and Ambrosius Aurelianus, wizard of Camelot, sorcerer of Cymru and failed protector of Arthur, am to merge the worlds as one and remake them." he said in a dark and ancient tongue, a tongue which brought fear to those who heard it. I understand that this may not properly convey the fear a normal person would feel when they hear Welsh, but description was never my strong suit.

He began to glow an even brighter red, shining - his health bar began to slowly trickle down of its own accord, as he was using his life energy to perform this ritual.

As Damien-dragon burst in, so did someone else. Lukas, wielding a bloodied sword, burst through a nearby wall, coughing. "Set has been delayed." he explained. "He's out for now. But not for too long. Get this ready- and hurry."

A portal was opening now. Then another. And another. Finally, four portals stood, one on every side of the room. Lukas stood next to Merlin, looking worried. Out of the portals came through eight more monsters. A horrific screeching sound was heard by them, which caused some bleeding ears to those who heard it, sounding like an inherent violation in their soul.

BWOOOOOOORRRRRNNNGH Another horrific noise was heard, though the source was not visible, causing Lukas to cough and wince, and sending chills down the spines of the PCs. Merlin and Ganesh, however, seemed entirely unaware of anything going on around them, stuck in a different magical reality.

Another bar appeared over Merlin. It said simply "Gotterdammerung Progress: 15%". It slowly increased, but he needed more time.

Lukas gestured at one of the new monsters with his sword. "Let's go." he said, as she suddenly grabbed one of Lyra's arm cannon monsters and sliced it clean open with her sharp claws, screeching as she did so.

Lukas ran at it, his sword slicing at her claws, clanging sounds heard. The other creatures began to fire blue beams of energy either at Damien or Lyra, deeming them the major threats.

[Nationstatelandsville]

Damien sighed. How many Mexicans are inside my head right now? I guess it doesn't matter.

He proceeded to where Merlin and company were, noting the presence of monsters. "What's up, bitches?" Damien announced. He proceeded to assume the form of a dragon, breathing wave upon wave of fire onto the enemy monsters.

"Damien Seward, monster hunter and dragon, at your service." Certainly he would need to explain to Merlin and Caspian and Lyra and everyone else, but for now he hoped they would just accept this and allow him to destroy these monsters.

Damien felt a sudden jolt of pain in his head. I'm Colombian. rebuked Garcia.

What are these strange lands of which you speak? Quixote asked, They do not sound near Kabul at all.

[Nationstatelandsville]

The dragonslayer exhaled through his mouth in a short, sharp, disdainful sound, before speaking partially to the molten remains of the cherub that had attacked him and partially to the ophan which was likely still being battered by his relentless assault, which was only temporarily stopped when the cherub's blow had caused him a rather distracting ammount of pain and made him lose his aim. "Born?" He asked with a mix of sarcasm and aggressive incredulity. "You won't kill me until you learn." He stated, not with confidence or arrogance, but with a weary severity of sorts, before stepping away from the molten pool of gray waste, continuing to fire at the ophan and crossing his right arm under his left one in order to also fire at the ophan attacking Ciel and Aziraphale at the same time.

With the cherub dead, the ophan began to move noticeably slower, its attacks much weaker.

"Ye' think these things fuel each other, maybe?" Lewis asked, "When I read the Bible, I remembered 'em bein' best pals, cherubs and thrones; maybe they didn't get everythin' wrong?"

Ciel, meanwhile, noticed an increment in the heat of her immediate area, as well as a shadow suddenly being cast over her, followed this time by a steep drop in the temperature. She noticed Aziraphale's voice shouting at an enemy she hadn't thus far bothered to look up at, likely trying to fend it off. Finally, this and the roar in her head caused her to get up and look at the scene in front of her, only to hear Aziraphale's struggled words and realize that he was trying to protect her. Why, she had no idea, it didn't seem like a very worthwhile cause to her still clouded mind, but, pushing this thought aside, she told herself that she didn't want anyone else to die because of her. Raising her hammer, she increased its weight a great deal before stepping in front of Aziraphale and attempting to bring it down upon the ophan with a battle cry.

The ophan, realizing this, teleported away.

But, when it reappeared just five feet from Calliel, it began to sputter and scream, dying a slow and painful death; that is, until it noticed another angel in front of it. A treacherous angel.

It was then that the ophan threw itself at full speed at Calliel, ready to burn him to ash in an instant.