The Fall of Elfen High (IC, Closed)

[Agritum]

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.

During her teleportation from Elfen High to Heaven, Grace faintly felt as if she had been brought through the Hawaii and Mexico during the journey, only to quickly depart again towards the celestial realm. The warm sensation of the sombrero wrapped around her head swiftly confirmed said feelings.

With a distressed look, Grace removed the Mexican hat, keeping it in her hands, while observing William's battle with the strange heavenly creature. Visibly shaken by such a sight, the British girl glanced up towards Calliel, and tried to grab his attention.

"Uh...Calliel," she started "what's that thing, exactly, and should we join that red-haired man in fighting it?"

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 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.

For the first time in the whole journey to save Ganesh, Gwen was clearly startled. She had confronted some of the worst beasts in the multiverse, dragons included, but she clearly understood that something worse than anything she had ever witnessed during her life was going to happen. The arrival of the other monsters confirmed her fears.

Struggling not to cover her ears with her hands, Gwen raced to put themselves between the monsters and Lyra/Lukas, trying to shield them from the energy beam barrage by shooting Excalibur's own beams against them, much like an AA-gun.

"I'll cover your back, run!" she yelled to the rest of the group.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

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.

Calliel would have answered Grace's question, but he was busy suddenly being attacked by an ophan.

His hands started to light with a soft blue light, which he fired directly at the creature, intent on using cyrokinesis to freeze it. To Grace's question, he now replied. "Yes." he said simply.

He looked at the scene around him. Chaotic. Destructive. Is this what was left of his Heaven? He felt inherently disturbed by that.

[Constaniana]

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.

William had a very thick head, as most everybody would tell you. Thus, it didn't turn out very practical for the seraph, as William instead swung his elbow back behind him, before spinning to face the seraph with Excalibur. The knight swung his sword at the horn while trying to magically blast the seraph itself with his right hand.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

After recovering from the awful noises that had assaulted her senses moments earlier, which took some time, Lyra managed to stand up, having fallen to her knees earlier, also dropping her drawing implements. She looked at the eight monsters that had burst in through the portal, and then back at Merlin and Ganesh, noticing the decrease in the first bar and the appearance of the second one. She felt her heart sink ever so slightly upon seeing that there was 85% progress left, but then, there wasn't much she could do about it, so she simply turned back to the monsters, which were being held back at the moment by Gwen and Lukas. They were obviously stronger and more fearsome than the arm-cannon ones, though there were still a lot of those, given that many more had burst in after the first three were slain. This was going to be a troublesome battle, it seemed, and the progress bar wasn't moving very quickly, either.

Sighing, Lyra picked up her drawing implements and decided to make good use of the time Lukas and Gwen were buying her. Thus, she began drawing once again, glancing momentarily at the Queen. "Don't be silly, we can't run away and leave Merlin here, he's defenseless." She said.

After a while, dozens and dozens of alien creatures the size of a large dog, with webbed feet and large, sharp claws and fangs, and two sickles growing out of their backs began spawning in the room, rushing towards the arm-cannon monsters and the eight more powerful ones with little regard for their own well-being and only aiming to inflict as much damage as possible.

This can all likely be traced back to that one time a distant cousin gave her a copy of StarCraft for her birthday.

---

"That would explain why all these thrones appear to be weakened now." Frederick nodded at Lewis' comment as he continued firing on the ophanim. "Let's take advantage of that, then. We should finish quickly and leave. We don't know how many more of those things might be incoming."

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Merlin gripped his staff tightly. "Keep ready." he warned. "We're going to see some serious shit." He took a deep breath, slamming his staff further into the ground. Electricity began to crackle everywhere, lightning bolts smashing into the walls, shattering the glass or reflecting off it. White bursts of electricity surrounded the room, zapping many of the approaching monsters - occasionally they would hit our protagonists as well, causing them momentary pain, but it was obvious Merlin was trying to hold back.

The lightning changed into a red colour, before shifting to blue. Damien began to glow blue, each individual soul in his body now shining. Everyone else also began to turn blue (though a less intense and bright shade). Merlin coughed, blood coming out. His health bar started to go down slightly, while his body began to shine. The bar signalling Gotterdammerung progress started to shoot up exponentially.

More portals and gates opened. "Alright, we're fucking here now!" barked one man in particular. A Scottish voice. It was a white man, who was younger now, but he would still be recognisable by some as the founder of Elfen High. Valaran Fixban, who now fired blasts away at the monsters coming in. More blinding light flared, Lukas using his own sword to deflect it. A sword that some would recognise as Clarent, which in the modern day was possessed by Aleister Crowley and Elfen High.

Fixban was followed by a few dozen soldiers now, who valiantly fought off against the Fae monsters. However, that number kept growing as hundreds more began to storm into the room, which was falling apart, the walls breaking.

The ceiling shattered as a massive Vimana began firing right at it, blowing the fucking top right off.

Merlin did not let this distract him, instead tightening his grip on his staff to the point that his hand began to bleed lightly. He began to vibrate at a rapid speed. He chanted louder. Ganesh began to vibrate as well, shaking along with Merlin as Fixban helped our PCs hold off the ever growing number of attacking monsters.

Suddenly, a man walked in, parting the monsters aside as though he were Moses parting the seas. The man stood at almost exactly two metres tall, his face obscured by the helmet he wore.

However, on his head, he wore a metal crown, sticking out of his helmet, seeming to be fused with it. The only visible part of his face were two piercing blue eyes, with eyebrows that had once been perhaps gorgeously blond, befitting of a handsome young man (and befitting of the Fae theme of illusion and beauty), but were fading to grey with age.

A chill came in the age as this man entered the room, the Fae monsters bowing to him slightly. The man narrowed his eyes, starting to slowly approach Merlin. Fixban leaped in his way, blasting him with five white magic blasts. Oberon calmly brushed them aside, with a mild wave of the hand.

He started walking ever closer to Merlin, pulling his sword out, clearly ready to end this bullshit before it even began.

[Nude East Ireland]

Damien took one look at this motherfucker and knew he didn't like what he saw.

So he made the split second decision to shoot a stream of fire in front of Oberon to block his field of view, if only for a very short time. While he did this, he shape-shifted and took on the appearance of Merlin; clearly Merlin was important to this whole thing, Damien was very aware of this. So giving the old wizard any chance to get out of this mess was Damien's intention. Perhaps he could confuse Oberon. Perhaps he could save the universe and allow Gotterdammerung to happen.

Damien didn't really care for hypotheticals. But what he knew was this; he looked like Merlin, sounded like Merlin, and was actually standing next to Merlin by the time the fires died out. And he was ready to fight and this time he wouldn't go down easily; no, not at all.

Damien was a dragon.

So he roared, flames shooting from his mouth like a funnel to engulf Oberon in blue fire.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Damien took one look at this motherfucker and knew he didn't like what he saw.

So he made the split second decision to shoot a stream of fire in front of Oberon to block his field of view, if only for a very short time. While he did this, he shape-shifted and took on the appearance of Merlin; clearly Merlin was important to this whole thing, Damien was very aware of this. So giving the old wizard any chance to get out of this mess was Damien's intention. Perhaps he could confuse Oberon. Perhaps he could save the universe and allow Gotterdammerung to happen.

Damien didn't really care for hypotheticals. But what he knew was this; he looked like Merlin, sounded like Merlin, and was actually standing next to Merlin by the time the fires died out. And he was ready to fight and this time he wouldn't go down easily; no, not at all.

Damien was a dragon.

So he roared, flames shooting from his mouth like a funnel to engulf Oberon in blue fire.

Listening to this makes these mental images absurdly epic.

Oberon would have possibly been fooled by Damien's Merlin disguise. But then Damien breathed fire on him.

The blue flames hit Oberon, who walked through them, with merely a chuckle heard.

He grabbed Damien's head, and then stabbed him with the sword through the stomach. He slammed the sword, Damien still impaled on it, deep into the ground. He rested his foot (which wore a black steel armoured shoe) on Damien's head, quite clearly ready to crush it. His body was aflame on fire, heating his armour considerably, but otherwise only amusing him.

"Listen to me, young boy." he said, his voice sounding like a chilling Southern English accent. "I've killed hundreds of dragons in my time. I'll be glad to add you to the list."

[Astrolinium]

Caspian Lawrence, aged 39, stopped, staring at the Fairy King. He knew Damien would not be enough.

He made a point of knowing this.

He made a point of knowing it in such a way that he would remember it for the rest of his life.

Suddenly, Caspian Lawrence, age 56, appeared, a futuristic revolver -- of the sort he'd used to kill angels years back -- in each hand, barrels smoking. He wore a fedora (the proper sort, the kind Indiana Jones wears), chaps, boots, and a poncho. There was a toothpick between his teeth.

And suddenly, Caspian Lawrence, age 78, appeared, hefting the mock Excalibur into the air, astride Magnificence, the Last Unicorn. He wore a black bulletproof vest and totally rad sunglasses. Magnificence reared, neighing.

And suddenly, Caspian Lawrence, age 142, appeared, wearing a certain familiar orange space-suit, hefting a massive mining gun that he had to wield with both hands.

And suddenly, Caspian Lawrence, age 209, appeared, clad in lorica segmentata, scutum in one hand, gladius in the other.

Last of all, Caspian Lawrence, age 264, appeared. He was dressed in a white dress shirt, a plaid waistcoat, gray slacks, boots, a red car coat, and a very long scarf. His only weapon was a staff not unlike Merlin's though significantly less grand.

These six stood around Merlin.

And then, Caspian Lawrence, age 25, appeared. He was also dressed like the Fourth Doctor, and he bore no weapons. But he made seven, and that was a magic number.

Each one said quite simply, "Contact."

And suddenly they were engulfed in a very large bubble. A time bubble. Well, sort of. More of a donut, but time donut isn't a very inspiring phrase. The paradox of seven Caspians in one room had sealed them off, creating what was hopefully an impenetrable barrier -- it being composed entirely out of time itself and technically serving as a space outside of any universe -- standing as a force separating Oberon from Merlin, Ganesh, and Damien -- Damien was actually contained within the bubble/donut itself, as he was probably not so important to the process of the Gotterdammerung that he had to be actually inside the universe (in terms of the mechanics of he being inside but Oberon's foot hopefully not, well, as with anything created with such force, there was probably a bit of a shockwave that likely would have at least knocked Oberon back slightly) -- surrounding them without making them part of the bubble.

Still, each Caspian (except the last very bewildered one) stood at the ready, braced, prepared to use their weapons if the time bubble was breached.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Caspian Lawrence, aged 39, stopped, staring at the Fairy King. He knew Damien would not be enough.

He made a point of knowing this.

He made a point of knowing it in such a way that he would remember it for the rest of his life.

Suddenly, Caspian Lawrence, age 56, appeared, a futuristic revolver -- of the sort he'd used to kill angels years back -- in each hand, barrels smoking. He wore a fedora (the proper sort, the kind Indiana Jones wears), chaps, boots, and a poncho. There was a toothpick between his teeth.

And suddenly, Caspian Lawrence, age 78, appeared, hefting the mock Excalibur into the air, astride Magnificence, the Last Unicorn. He wore a black bulletproof vest and totally rad sunglasses. Magnificence reared, neighing.

And suddenly, Caspian Lawrence, age 142, appeared, wearing a certain familiar orange space-suit, hefting a massive mining gun that he had to wield with both hands.

And suddenly, Caspian Lawrence, age 209, appeared, clad in lorica segmentata, scutum in one hand, gladius in the other.

Last of all, Caspian Lawrence, age 264, appeared. He was dressed in a white dress shirt, a plaid waistcoat, gray slacks, boots, a red car coat, and a very long scarf. His only weapon was a staff not unlike Merlin's though significantly less grand.

These six stood around Merlin.

And then, Caspian Lawrence, age 25, appeared. He was also dressed like the Fourth Doctor, and he bore no weapons. But he made seven, and that was a magic number.

Each one said quite simply, "Contact."

And suddenly they were engulfed in a very large bubble. A time bubble. Well, sort of. More of a donut, but time donut isn't a very inspiring phrase. The paradox of seven Caspians in one room had sealed them off, creating what was hopefully an impenetrable barrier -- it being composed entirely out of time itself and technically serving as a space outside of any universe -- standing as a force separating Oberon from Merlin, Ganesh, and Damien -- Damien was actually contained within the bubble/donut itself, as he was probably not so important to the process of the Gotterdammerung that he had to be actually inside the universe (in terms of the mechanics of he being inside but Oberon's foot hopefully not, well, as with anything created with such force, there was probably a bit of a shockwave that likely would have at least knocked Oberon back slightly) -- surrounding them without making them part of the bubble.

Still, each Caspian (except the last very bewildered one) stood at the ready, braced, prepared to use their weapons if the time bubble was breached.

It's worth noting that the Fae are also not part of any ordinary universe.

It's also worth noting that Oberon does not give a fuck about the Caspians. He was, however, somewhat impressed. His eyes opened slightly, but then his feet crouched...and he leaped over the donut, landing next to Merlin regardless. He pulled out a dagger, ready to stab.

Now, the other forces on the side of our heroes tried to go to help Merlin - but were blocked by the time donut.

[Astrolinium]

And then, quite suddenly, the youngest Caspian faded. The universe probably went "aha!" or something, too.

And like that, the magic number had been broken and the time bubble dissipated. There was not much time, then.

Unthinking, the eldest Caspian, age 264, threw himself at Oberon. He had learned a bit of magic by this point -- as evidenced by the staff -- and was currently boosting his own ability to be a threat using that.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

And then, quite suddenly, the youngest Caspian faded. The universe probably went "aha!" or something, too.

And like that, the magic number had been broken and the time bubble dissipated. There was not much time, then.

Unthinking, the eldest Caspian, age 264, threw himself at Oberon. He had learned a bit of magic by this point -- as evidenced by the staff -- and was currently boosting his own ability to be a threat using that.

"Oh, absolutely not." Oberon said, sounding mildly amused here. "This will not be allowed to stand now."

He moved. Oberon grabbed the eldest Caspian, and moved forward into the circle of sorts that the Caspians had previously been in. "You think I don't have any experience with time, boy?" he barked. He raised his own hand, restoring the previous time bubble, though not before some soldiers had entered inside, now cautiously guarding Merlin. Oberon, however, was distracted.

He looked at the six Caspians around him, his non-dagger holding hand brushing the cheek of the eldest one. "Pathetic." he chuckled genially, looking at the rest. "Time travellers, hmm? Explorers of this world, ARE YOU?" his voice shifted rapidly from the quiet, aristocratic, grandfatherly old man who was enjoying himself to a savage beast, just barely being kept chained. The other Caspians would realise that they were frozen now in this instant of time, unable to move, unable to act. The counter on Merlin's Gotterdammerung kept increasing,

He now placed his knife underneath the eye of Old Caspian. "Just a merry band of wanderers, watching all of life, just watching o'er all.." Oberon said, his voice sing song. "Just a merry band of wanderers, watching watching all wonders, big and small." The knife was placed now directly over Caspian's eye. "But the merry wanderers realised one day that they erred." His voice became harder now, and he growled out the next words. "They attacked the King himself...and that day, they were scared."

He placed his knife now on Caspian's eye, very carefully, and very, very gently. Nothing had happened yet - Caspian wouldn't feel any pain, just the feeling of something being on his eye, and an overwhelming urge to blink.

"An adult human blinks around ten to fifteen times a day under ordinary conditions." Oberon commented calmly, sounding almost like a BBC newscaster. "That's around every four to six seconds. Though when there's an irritant, one can blink a bit more and faster than the normal. A sandstorm, a room of smoke, an onion being cut. Now, about a knife on the eye?" he purred.

Caspian's heart pounded, his eye trying very desperately to stay open. The other Caspians watched in worry and panic...and then, inevitably, Caspian would blink.

The knife sliced through his fucking eyelid. The eyelid.

It happened rapidly. He had tried to blink, and his left eyelid was suddenly in agonising pain. "Oh, do pardon me." Oberon muttered, setting Caspain calmly down on the ground as his hand clutched at his eye. "You see, the knife has many uses." he said, throwing it once in the air and catching it.

He threw it up again, caught it. "It can be used for cooking."

Throw. Catch. "It can be used for building."

Throw. Catch. "It can even, if your interests are inclined, be used in the beast with two backs." Oberon's smirk was audible.

Throw. No catch. Stab.

Oberon's knife fell into Caspian's body, landing expertly in the solar plexus. The knife dug through Caspian's body, impaling itself on the ground below as the traveller wasted his time and energy screaming and kicking. "However, I prefer to use the knife for the purpose it was originally made for. Hunting." his gloved hand brushed against Caspian's face again. He glanced up at the other Caspians, watching. He slammed his foot down on the eldest Caspian's hand, breaking it with one stomp. "This is how your journey will end, wanderers." he said in a grandfatherly, genial tone. "You've lived for centuries, an impressive age for prey animals. But every prey eventually meets at least one hunter."

His gloved right hand had remained on Caspian's face. He grabbed the man's jaw from the outside. His left hand, now free of a knife, grabbed the top of Caspian's head. He placed his fingers in Caspian's mouth. He pulled downwards.

It was a slow, methodical pull. But Caspian's jaw was pulled to an extent that a jaw should not be pulled. Then, very suddenly, it was jerked.

A dislocated jaw is usually not too serious. But occasionally, it could lead to very dangerous things. Aside from being unable to open or close the mouth properly, as well as agonising pain, it can suddenly make it very difficult to breathe due to a blocked airway.

Caspian Lawrence was currently having an extremely difficult time trying to breathe. He tried moving his other, unbroken hand, but Oberon grabbed it suddenly, twisted it, and ripped it off.

Caspian lay there, impaled by a knife. His jaw was dislocated, drooling a bit. His hand was crushed or separated from his body. He was having trouble breathing. And Oberon kneeled over his body, admiring his handiwork like an artist admired a painting in progress.

Oberon released the other Caspians from the time prison, allowing them to try to interfere. He laughed. "Did you really think you would be free calf, wandering the jungle, exploring the world and not be afraid that the jungle would have a lion?" he asked sarcastically. "Well, my little baby deer...weren't you told that the lion is still king of the jungle?"

[Nationstatelandsville]

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?"


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.

Calliel would have answered Grace's question, but he was busy suddenly being attacked by an ophan.

His hands started to light with a soft blue light, which he fired directly at the creature, intent on using cyrokinesis to freeze it. To Grace's question, he now replied. "Yes." he said simply.

He looked at the scene around him. Chaotic. Destructive. Is this what was left of his Heaven? He felt inherently disturbed by that.

Calliel's attempts were quite a failure, due to the ophan's vast heat; merely, it continued to fly closer, lighting the very air ablaze.

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.

William had a very thick head, as most everybody would tell you. Thus, it didn't turn out very practical for the seraph, as William instead swung his elbow back behind him, before spinning to face the seraph with Excalibur. The knight swung his sword at the horn while trying to magically blast the seraph itself with his right hand.

The difficult thing with launching two attacks at once is that they might just cancel each other out; such a thing happened to William. You see, no matter how good a swordsman you are, light (no matter if it is magical or physical) travels far faster than the human arm - and so his radiant blast collided with the seraph before the blade made contact.

The seraph was thrown backwards five feet, before catching itself and floating in the air. Now the angel climbed higher, aiming its horn directly down, and flew towards William; blue flames, like dragonfire, billowed down at the knight.

"That would explain why all these thrones appear to be weakened now." Frederick nodded at Lewis' comment as he continued firing on the ophanim. "Let's take advantage of that, then. We should finish quickly and leave. We don't know how many more of those things might be incoming."

The ophan Fred was firing at disappeared suddenly.

And then it reappeared next to him - well, not just next to him, exactly. Around him. Two rings tumbled through the air around him, hot as the forges of Hell; his legs, obviously, were knocked out from beneath him, but he did not fall. Rather, he floated, in the dead center of the ever-hotter rings, electricity crackling between the two.

It was then that Fred probably noticed his fingers first, then his hand, and soon to be his wrist and arm and so forth - as well as his toes and feet, advancing towards his legs - turn to a dull gray stone, almost like cray, if clay was brittle and dangerously close to crumbling.

[Astrolinium]

And then, quite suddenly, the youngest Caspian faded. The universe probably went "aha!" or something, too.

And like that, the magic number had been broken and the time bubble dissipated. There was not much time, then.

Unthinking, the eldest Caspian, age 264, threw himself at Oberon. He had learned a bit of magic by this point -- as evidenced by the staff -- and was currently boosting his own ability to be a threat using that.

"Oh, absolutely not." Oberon said, sounding mildly amused here. "This will not be allowed to stand now."

He moved. Oberon grabbed the eldest Caspian, and moved forward into the circle of sorts that the Caspians had previously been in. "You think I don't have any experience with time, boy?" he barked. He raised his own hand, restoring the previous time bubble, though not before some soldiers had entered inside, now cautiously guarding Merlin. Oberon, however, was distracted.

He looked at the six Caspians around him, his non-dagger holding hand brushing the cheek of the eldest one. "Pathetic." he chuckled genially, looking at the rest. "Time travellers, hmm? Explorers of this world, ARE YOU?" his voice shifted rapidly from the quiet, aristocratic, grandfatherly old man who was enjoying himself to a savage beast, just barely being kept chained. The other Caspians would realise that they were frozen now in this instant of time, unable to move, unable to act. The counter on Merlin's Gotterdammerung kept increasing,

He now placed his knife underneath the eye of Old Caspian. "Just a merry band of wanderers, watching all of life, just watching o'er all.." Oberon said, his voice sing song. "Just a merry band of wanderers, watching watching all wonders, big and small." The knife was placed now directly over Caspian's eye. "But the merry wanderers realised one day that they erred." His voice became harder now, and he growled out the next words. "They attacked the King himself...and that day, they were scared."

He placed his knife now on Caspian's eye, very carefully, and very, very gently. Nothing had happened yet - Caspian wouldn't feel any pain, just the feeling of something being on his eye, and an overwhelming urge to blink.

"An adult human blinks around ten to fifteen times a day under ordinary conditions." Oberon commented calmly, sounding almost like a BBC newscaster. "That's around every four to six seconds. Though when there's an irritant, one can blink a bit more and faster than the normal. A sandstorm, a room of smoke, an onion being cut. Now, about a knife on the eye?" he purred.

Caspian's heart pounded, his eye trying very desperately to stay open. The other Caspians watched in worry and panic...and then, inevitably, Caspian would blink.

The knife sliced through his fucking eyelid. The eyelid.

It happened rapidly. He had tried to blink, and his left eyelid was suddenly in agonising pain. "Oh, do pardon me." Oberon muttered, setting Caspain calmly down on the ground as his hand clutched at his eye. "You see, the knife has many uses." he said, throwing it once in the air and catching it.

He threw it up again, caught it. "It can be used for cooking."

Throw. Catch. "It can be used for building."

Throw. Catch. "It can even, if your interests are inclined, be used in the beast with two backs." Oberon's smirk was audible.

Throw. No catch. Stab.

Oberon's knife fell into Caspian's body, landing expertly in the solar plexus. The knife dug through Caspian's body, impaling itself on the ground below as the traveller wasted his time and energy screaming and kicking. "However, I prefer to use the knife for the purpose it was originally made for. Hunting." his gloved hand brushed against Caspian's face again. He glanced up at the other Caspians, watching. He slammed his foot down on the eldest Caspian's hand, breaking it with one stomp. "This is how your journey will end, wanderers." he said in a grandfatherly, genial tone. "You've lived for centuries, an impressive age for prey animals. But every prey eventually meets at least one hunter."

His gloved right hand had remained on Caspian's face. He grabbed the man's jaw from the outside. His left hand, now free of a knife, grabbed the top of Caspian's head. He placed his fingers in Caspian's mouth. He pulled downwards.

It was a slow, methodical pull. But Caspian's jaw was pulled to an extent that a jaw should not be pulled. Then, very suddenly, it was jerked.

A dislocated jaw is usually not too serious. But occasionally, it could lead to very dangerous things. Aside from being unable to open or close the mouth properly, as well as agonising pain, it can suddenly make it very difficult to breathe due to a blocked airway.

Caspian Lawrence was currently having an extremely difficult time trying to breathe. He tried moving his other, unbroken hand, but Oberon grabbed it suddenly, twisted it, and ripped it off.

Caspian lay there, impaled by a knife. His jaw was dislocated, drooling a bit. His hand was crushed or separated from his body. He was having trouble breathing. And Oberon kneeled over his body, admiring his handiwork like an artist admired a painting in progress.

Oberon released the other Caspians from the time prison, allowing them to try to interfere. He laughed. "Did you really think you would be free calf, wandering the jungle, exploring the world and not be afraid that the jungle would have a lion?" he asked sarcastically. "Well, my little baby deer...weren't you told that the lion is still king of the jungle?"

Eldest Caspian's body arced with pain, his whole torso thrusting upward in a cruel mockery of orgasm. Saliva gurgled forth from his mouth. He made an awful noise -- something between a wheeze and a snort. Ggggh! Ggggh! Gggggh!

There was no thought. There was no time. Only pain infiltrating every facet of his mind. In the back of his head, he felt Peter Altier die. And that was the worst of all, to have something that had been with you for over 200 years suddenly vanished, snuffed like a light. The pain was so intense, a wave of it washing over him again and again, that he could not even muster the will to let his will falter. He remained steely strong not out of any determination, but out of sheer inability to do anything else.

The other five Caspians who remained stood transfixed. The second eldest, age 209, began to weep openly. The second youngest, Caspian, age 56, fainted on the spot, but he did not fall, held in place by time itself.

Caspians age 78 and 142 forced open a separate mental link between themselves. Their minds clung together like scared children.

Only Caspian, age 39, thought, 'Please, god, Richard, whatever, let this take long enough.'

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Lyra saw Oberon walk inside, all the monsters treating him as their king, she saw him advance menacingly towards Merlin as he performed the Gotterdammerung, and she saw him brush aside any attempts to stop him with startling ease. And yet, even then she decided to try to help the others in stopping the Faery King, as the prisoner Arthur had called him earlier. However, as soon as she touched the paper, it was set ablaze while still in her hand, much like it had happened several times already, but much more quickly. The girl looked at the burning object in her hand in utter frustration for a long time, temporarily oblivious to Caspian and Damien's entirely unsuccessful attempts to stop Oberon, as well as the fact that, while her hand painlessly burned and then healed vertiginously, one of the creatures she had summoned earlier began burning alive all of the sudden because of her.

Eventually she sighed, dropped the object, stomped it several times and had one of her creatures hand her another pad. She made a note not to try to do anything to Oberon anymore, and possibly create fireproof paper once all this was done. Either way, she noticed the broken bodies of Damien and Caspian - One Caspian, rather, and she happened to be rather surprised to notice several present. Either way, she swiftly sketched healthier versions of them and willed said changes into reality, though she didn't remove the sword that was pinning Damien down. For all she knew, it was a Fae thing too, and trying to change it was only going to get more ashes into the room.

Afterwards, she scrawled several chains on the paper, chains which were depicted as shooting forth to restrain an unseen enemy, though she was fairly careful not to depict anything Fae in her drawing. Hopefully, it would distract the Faery King. At this point, that was all they could really do: Buy Merlin more time.

---

Frederick was altogether not quite pleased with his current situation. Now, being inside the throne was probably not the worst part. He had been inside worse places, far worse places, or more disgusting places in any case. No, the problem was that, while in there, his extremities were becoming petrified, and it wasn't turning into the good kind of stone, no, that brittle thing seemed to be made in China or something.

Of course, this also put him near an eye on fire that was inside the ophan as well, and, after reviewing his situation for a moment, the dragonslayer did what seemed most logical to him.

He bit the ophan's central eye.

[Nationstatelandsville]

Frederick was altogether not quite pleased with his current situation. Now, being inside the throne was probably not the worst part. He had been inside worse places, far worse places, or more disgusting places in any case. No, the problem was that, while in there, his extremities were becoming petrified, and it wasn't turning into the good kind of stone, no, that brittle thing seemed to be made in China or something.

Of course, this also put him near an eye on fire that was inside the ophan as well, and, after reviewing his situation for a moment, the dragonslayer did what seemed most logical to him.

He bit the ophan's central eye.

This had rather the same effect as biting down on a person's beating heart; which is to say Fred killed the ophan pretty quickly. Mind you, this wouldn't have worked for anyone but Fred, because everyone else would've immediately burst into flames. Have an arm made of dragon can be very helpful.

Speaking of Fred's limbs - they reverted back to flesh as he smacked onto the ground, but were numb and unresponsive. Which was a problem in combat.

For now, though, Fred was safe. Lewis offered a hand to help him up, unaware of the circumstances.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Frederick smacked into the ground, though he hardly felt it. Numb limbs aside, he had fallen from much greater heights before anyway. Not that he didn't have some serious problems at the moment, what with his hands and legs not responding to his commands. He figured that he'd need someone's help to continue to be of any use.

Looking up with some effort, he noticed Lewis' hand and chuckled.

"Thanks, but that won't do. My limbs are unresponsive." He stated. "I suppose you can point my arms, if you want. I think I can still make them fire."

[Constaniana]

The difficult thing with launching two attacks at once is that they might just cancel each other out; such a thing happened to William. You see, no matter how good a swordsman you are, light (no matter if it is magical or physical) travels far faster than the human arm - and so his radiant blast collided with the seraph before the blade made contact.

The seraph was thrown backwards five feet, before catching itself and floating in the air. Now the angel climbed higher, aiming its horn directly down, and flew towards William; blue flames, like dragonfire, billowed down at the knight.

William was reasonably sure that he could deal with flames, even magical ones, thanks to his extremely high endurance and healing magic. The seraph wanted to directly challenge him? Sir Nilark would give it one. William quickly put Excalibur back in its scabbard as he resumed exerting more control over his body. The fear the seraphs had artificially put inside the Yorkshireman's mind had been swept away by reckless, eager anticipation. With both hands now free, William aimed behind him and fired a radiant blast at the ground, angling it so as to launch him straight at the oncoming angel. Thanks his light-speed velocity it could be assumed the angel wouldn't have the time to notice William's approach before 280 pounds of Englishman and metal slammed into it.

[Nationstatelandsville]

Frederick smacked into the ground, though he hardly felt it. Numb limbs aside, he had fallen from much greater heights before anyway. Not that he didn't have some serious problems at the moment, what with his hands and legs not responding to his commands. He figured that he'd need someone's help to continue to be of any use.

Looking up with some effort, he noticed Lewis' hand and chuckled.

"Thanks, but that won't do. My limbs are unresponsive." He stated. "I suppose you can point my arms, if you want. I think I can still make them fire."

Lewis blinked, then shrugged; and with that, foisted Fred by his hips, using one arm to keep Fred tight to his chest and the other to aim Fred's machine gun arm.

"This is the fourth weirdest way I've held a cripple," he said, aiming Fred's arm at the seraph attacking William.

The difficult thing with launching two attacks at once is that they might just cancel each other out; such a thing happened to William. You see, no matter how good a swordsman you are, light (no matter if it is magical or physical) travels far faster than the human arm - and so his radiant blast collided with the seraph before the blade made contact.

The seraph was thrown backwards five feet, before catching itself and floating in the air. Now the angel climbed higher, aiming its horn directly down, and flew towards William; blue flames, like dragonfire, billowed down at the knight.

William was reasonably sure that he could deal with flames, even magical ones, thanks to his extremely high endurance and healing magic. The seraph wanted to directly challenge him? Sir Nilark would give it one. William quickly put Excalibur back in its scabbard as he resumed exerting more control over his body. The fear the seraphs had artificially put inside the Yorkshireman's mind had been swept away by reckless, eager anticipation. With both hands now free, William aimed behind him and fired a radiant blast at the ground, angling it so as to launch him straight at the oncoming angel. Thanks his light-speed velocity it could be assumed the angel wouldn't have the time to notice William's approach before 280 pounds of Englishman and metal slammed into it.

William and the angel collided; the angel was pretty thoroughly dead before it even hit the ground.

But this is the thing with launching something at light-speed; as per the laws of energy, it builds up quite a bit of kinetic energy. This kinetic energy, ultimately, is what killed the seraph. Being hit with a human being at the speed of light is more or less equivalent to being smacked in the face with a brick, assuming said brick weighed as much as the Sun.

Another law of energy is Newton's third; which most know in the terms of "any action releases an equal and opposite reaction". In other words, when hitting an angel with a brick as heavy as the Sun, there is quite a bit of recoil flying back into your arm. kinetic energy redirected. This is especially painful when the brick is you.

By all means, then, William was dead too; but a certain magical aura dubbed by some as "protagonist-centered immortality" prevented his death. Instead, he was simply a shattered, splintered wreck of a man without a single unbroken bone in his body and a few organs reduced to pulp. For his part, Aziraphale teleported William back to the ground, rather than let him fall.

"You're a dumbass," the angel sighed.

"Worth it," Lewis said.

"You'll need a healer," Aziraphale concluded. It was, really, quite obvious.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

"Oh, absolutely not." Oberon said, sounding mildly amused here. "This will not be allowed to stand now."

He moved. Oberon grabbed the eldest Caspian, and moved forward into the circle of sorts that the Caspians had previously been in. "You think I don't have any experience with time, boy?" he barked. He raised his own hand, restoring the previous time bubble, though not before some soldiers had entered inside, now cautiously guarding Merlin. Oberon, however, was distracted.

He looked at the six Caspians around him, his non-dagger holding hand brushing the cheek of the eldest one. "Pathetic." he chuckled genially, looking at the rest. "Time travellers, hmm? Explorers of this world, ARE YOU?" his voice shifted rapidly from the quiet, aristocratic, grandfatherly old man who was enjoying himself to a savage beast, just barely being kept chained. The other Caspians would realise that they were frozen now in this instant of time, unable to move, unable to act. The counter on Merlin's Gotterdammerung kept increasing,

He now placed his knife underneath the eye of Old Caspian. "Just a merry band of wanderers, watching all of life, just watching o'er all.." Oberon said, his voice sing song. "Just a merry band of wanderers, watching watching all wonders, big and small." The knife was placed now directly over Caspian's eye. "But the merry wanderers realised one day that they erred." His voice became harder now, and he growled out the next words. "They attacked the King himself...and that day, they were scared."

He placed his knife now on Caspian's eye, very carefully, and very, very gently. Nothing had happened yet - Caspian wouldn't feel any pain, just the feeling of something being on his eye, and an overwhelming urge to blink.

"An adult human blinks around ten to fifteen times a day under ordinary conditions." Oberon commented calmly, sounding almost like a BBC newscaster. "That's around every four to six seconds. Though when there's an irritant, one can blink a bit more and faster than the normal. A sandstorm, a room of smoke, an onion being cut. Now, about a knife on the eye?" he purred.

Caspian's heart pounded, his eye trying very desperately to stay open. The other Caspians watched in worry and panic...and then, inevitably, Caspian would blink.

The knife sliced through his fucking eyelid. The eyelid.

It happened rapidly. He had tried to blink, and his left eyelid was suddenly in agonising pain. "Oh, do pardon me." Oberon muttered, setting Caspain calmly down on the ground as his hand clutched at his eye. "You see, the knife has many uses." he said, throwing it once in the air and catching it.

He threw it up again, caught it. "It can be used for cooking."

Throw. Catch. "It can be used for building."

Throw. Catch. "It can even, if your interests are inclined, be used in the beast with two backs." Oberon's smirk was audible.

Throw. No catch. Stab.

Oberon's knife fell into Caspian's body, landing expertly in the solar plexus. The knife dug through Caspian's body, impaling itself on the ground below as the traveller wasted his time and energy screaming and kicking. "However, I prefer to use the knife for the purpose it was originally made for. Hunting." his gloved hand brushed against Caspian's face again. He glanced up at the other Caspians, watching. He slammed his foot down on the eldest Caspian's hand, breaking it with one stomp. "This is how your journey will end, wanderers." he said in a grandfatherly, genial tone. "You've lived for centuries, an impressive age for prey animals. But every prey eventually meets at least one hunter."

His gloved right hand had remained on Caspian's face. He grabbed the man's jaw from the outside. His left hand, now free of a knife, grabbed the top of Caspian's head. He placed his fingers in Caspian's mouth. He pulled downwards.

It was a slow, methodical pull. But Caspian's jaw was pulled to an extent that a jaw should not be pulled. Then, very suddenly, it was jerked.

A dislocated jaw is usually not too serious. But occasionally, it could lead to very dangerous things. Aside from being unable to open or close the mouth properly, as well as agonising pain, it can suddenly make it very difficult to breathe due to a blocked airway.

Caspian Lawrence was currently having an extremely difficult time trying to breathe. He tried moving his other, unbroken hand, but Oberon grabbed it suddenly, twisted it, and ripped it off.

Caspian lay there, impaled by a knife. His jaw was dislocated, drooling a bit. His hand was crushed or separated from his body. He was having trouble breathing. And Oberon kneeled over his body, admiring his handiwork like an artist admired a painting in progress.

Oberon released the other Caspians from the time prison, allowing them to try to interfere. He laughed. "Did you really think you would be free calf, wandering the jungle, exploring the world and not be afraid that the jungle would have a lion?" he asked sarcastically. "Well, my little baby deer...weren't you told that the lion is still king of the jungle?"

Eldest Caspian's body arced with pain, his whole torso thrusting upward in a cruel mockery of orgasm. Saliva gurgled forth from his mouth. He made an awful noise -- something between a wheeze and a snort. Ggggh! Ggggh! Gggggh!

There was no thought. There was no time. Only pain infiltrating every facet of his mind. In the back of his head, he felt Peter Altier die. And that was the worst of all, to have something that had been with you for over 200 years suddenly vanished, snuffed like a light. The pain was so intense, a wave of it washing over him again and again, that he could not even muster the will to let his will falter. He remained steely strong not out of any determination, but out of sheer inability to do anything else.

The other five Caspians who remained stood transfixed. The second eldest, age 209, began to weep openly. The second youngest, Caspian, age 56, fainted on the spot, but he did not fall, held in place by time itself.

Caspians age 78 and 142 forced open a separate mental link between themselves. Their minds clung together like scared children.

Only Caspian, age 39, thought, 'Please, god, Richard, whatever, let this take long enough.'

"Oh, this cannot be allowed." Oberon mused. He grabbed Caspian's head again, a blue tendril of magic coming out of his hand and into Caspian's eyes. The tendril found the Peter Altier that was beginning to die away, and immediately grabbed it, keeping it alive and awake to experience every moment.

Softly, a song was heard to all present.

He's a-coming, do you hear the King?
He comes ever closer, with gifts only he can bring
The King is very close now, you can see his crown
He will come and burn you down.

"It seems only fitting that you two will die together." he said with a chuckle. "But let's not make it too fun..." With a sudden blast of blue light, Peter felt his mind open back up. All those memories he had suppressed or held back, all that mental torture...it was back in a flash. All the memories from before he met Caspian suddenly hit him like a brick all at once, smashing his sanity. Oberon sadistically threw in some fake memories as well, as well as amplifying some old doubts and old worries.

All Hail The King, All Hail The King
As he comes, the children sing
He brings his gift, raining it down on you
When we accept, he leaves to do it elsewhere anew

He's a-coming, do you hear the King?
He comes ever closer, with a gift only he can bring
The King is patient, the King has waited
He has come to burn this Earth he's hated

He finally left Caspian go, looking at the injured child. He reached down to pull out his dagger...

He noticed Caspian start to heal (due to Lyra's magic), though the dagger remained impaled in his body. No mere sketch would remove that. And it would be much more difficult to remove the mental wounds. Even with the healing, those unseen wounds would stay for quite some time. And the traveller didn't have very much time.

Oberon stepped on Caspian's leg a last time, smashing it.

Then suddenly, from behind him, he was suddenly struck by a broomstick.

Standing behind him, glaring, was a pissed off Richard, who had appeared from a portal.

[Astrolinium]

Caspian screamed as the healing magic entered his body, restoring his ability to do so.

As his body healed and his mind melted, a curious thing happened -- he and Peter Altier became one. The partition between the two was dropped, and they merged, swimming about in each other's consciousnesses.

London bridge is burning down

Caspian tried to double over, but his body refused him. He screamed, "Vernon! Vernon! No, god, fuck, no! Hell, Damien, Gabriel, who's left? Don't leave us, you bloody cunt! You selfish fuck!"

Jacob lead him to the entrance to his room, and told him to wait there for a moment. He walked into his room, closing the door behind him. A bit of rustling was heard, and then the door opened, and Jacob exited, holding what looked like a small, very shiny, metal item, about the size of a softball. Jacob looked down at it, and after a brief moment, it transformed into a G.I. Joe sized figure, modeled after the fourth doctor. "Here," Jacob said, offering the metal figure to Caspian. He didn't say what it was to him, no matter how much he wanted to. In fact, it was the last thing he had to remember his mother by, but he thought Caspian needed it more.

burning down

Blood began to leak from the corners of his eyes. Blood and salty tears, stinging, but Caspian could barely see. He was in Maine, Peter's life flashing before his eyes, the boy's father on top of him, he barely seven, thrusting again and again, all the while the scared young boy chanting in his head, chanting, 'Please Lord make it stop make it quick let it end let him finish please please oh god please i don't want this no no no no noooooooo god please'.

Caspian blinked and took the toy. He didn't understand - couldn't understand - how important it was to Jacob, but he did understand that it was significant. This was Jacob making up for the scarf. This was a connection, a physical object connecting him and Jacob now. Also, he seemed to understand that this wasn't just any old toy. He examined the toy and hesitated for a minute, as if to see if anyone else was around. Then he threw his arms around Jacob, pulling him close. He whispered, 'Thank you.'

BURNING DOWN

Caspian was seventeen 18th August 1980 again and the plane was going down, down, down, further, the water was coming,o h g o d, oh GOD, going to crash, crahs, where's mum and dad, can't see mum and dad MUMMY! MUMMY! sir sir have you seen my mummy where is she i've lost her and i can't seem to find her MUMMY! DA! DA! the plane's going down into the deep blue sea we have to go BANG! The plane hit the water with all the force of a nuclear explosion, the impact ripping it apart. Water surrounded Caspian the Doctor will save us!, infiltrating his every hole, invading, probing, groping, burning, and then suddenly blackness

Jacob hugged him back, a tear rolling down his cheek, now that Caspian couldn't see his face. Truth be told, this was the biggest thing he had ever done in his life, or at least it felt like it. Maybe he was putting too much effort into this early on, but he thought it was more than worth it. He rubbed Caspian's back softly, and responded with an almost inaudible whisper, "You're welcome."

His body would never be found in the wreckage.

London bridge is burning down

"I don't even know what's wrong or right," he said quietly.

Jacob smiled politely at him, and put his hand on the boy's hand, pulling it away from his face and holding it softly. He cradled his hand with both of his, trying to comfort the boy. The view of the boy's rear did in fact entice him, but he was trying not to be too forward.

"Well... Everything is right. You just have to decide what's right for you," Jacob said, trying to make things seem good to the boy, "For instance... This seems right to me."

"Why is everything so bloody difficult?" he asked exasperatedly.

Caspian leaned forward and awkwardly hugged Jacob again. Then he realized that this wasn't going to work, one on the couch one off, so he got off the couch, kneeled down, and tried again, which worked much better. He said, "And then that... that Angel guy... had to... he..."

Now Caspian was crying again. That scarf had been precious to him, very precious.

Jacob hugged him tightly, and shooshed him, "Shh, calm down. It's okay... It's okay. I know it meant much to you, but he didn't know. He did try to fix it..."
He stood up, and held his hand out. "Come with me, I want to show you something."

Caspian hesitated, but after a moment he did take Jacob's hand, looking perhaps a bit quizzical. He said, "Alright. Lead the way."
Hopefully wherever Jacob led him, there would less crying.

Caspian held on to Jacob, continuing to hug him. He'd cried enough today alone to know the shake in the voice that accompanies tears, and so he knew that Jacob was either shedding them or on the verge of doing so. He said, "I think this gift is important to you. I'll be sure to take good care of it."
He closed his eyes and tried to enjoy the hug, which was less difficult than he thought it might end up being.

My Fair Lady

The small figurine of Tom Baker was still in Caspian's pocket to this day. It was in each of the Caspians' pockets, right this very second.

And in his last moments, it provided him some small amount of comfort to know that he had indeed taken good care of it.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Calliel would have answered Grace's question, but he was busy suddenly being attacked by an ophan.

His hands started to light with a soft blue light, which he fired directly at the creature, intent on using cyrokinesis to freeze it. To Grace's question, he now replied. "Yes." he said simply.

He looked at the scene around him. Chaotic. Destructive. Is this what was left of his Heaven? He felt inherently disturbed by that.

Calliel's attempts were quite a failure, due to the ophan's vast heat; merely, it continued to fly closer, lighting the very air ablaze.

Calliel blinked. He didn't expect that.

Therefore, his other solution was to pull out a handgun and try to shoot the damn thing to death.

[Nationstatelandsville]

Do you remember what TV static sounds like?

No, you don't. You've never seen a TV in your life that makes static like that. Aleister Crowley has, but it had been so long, even his memory of it had warped; not that that was particularly remarkable for Lucifer, given how many of his memories were twisted, but still.

It was for this reason that Crowley's head was suddenly filled with something not entirely unlike, but also not entirely like, the actual sound TV static makes.

The picture around him blurred - to be a bit modern, though barely by the standards of the 2030's, a ring of buffering appeared between Crowley and Uriel. Uriel's expression made it clear he was both aware of this effect and immensely unhappy with it.

"Testing, testing," croaked a voice from nowhere. American. Male. A touch, just a touch, of lightness to it.

"Uh, yes, hello," the voice said, "Can you hear me? 1. 2. 3. Can you hear me?"

The voice cut out abruptly. The static returned.

Then it disappeared again.

"Goddamn it..." the voice muttered.

A soft click.

Carry on, my wayward son...

Click.

That's one small step for...

Click.

GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL!

Click.

Don't you cry no more!

Click.

"Ah!" the voice said; only it wasn't a voice anymore. It was, instead, a flesh and blood man (or as much as a psychic apparition could be) waving his arms about in a hurried, manic way. He was somewhere upwards of fuck-billion years old, a bit tall, and not at all unlike a turkey. He smiled devilishly and bugged his eyes out; something about him was a bit familiar.

"Shoddy connection," he said, "Excuse me. You are, uh, Mr. Aleister Crowley, right? Last time we got Mark Sheppard. That was awkward."

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Do you remember what TV static sounds like?

No, you don't. You've never seen a TV in your life that makes static like that. Aleister Crowley has, but it had been so long, even his memory of it had warped; not that that was particularly remarkable for Lucifer, given how many of his memories were twisted, but still.

It was for this reason that Crowley's head was suddenly filled with something not entirely unlike, but also not entirely like, the actual sound TV static makes.

The picture around him blurred - to be a bit modern, though barely by the standards of the 2030's, a ring of buffering appeared between Crowley and Uriel. Uriel's expression made it clear he was both aware of this effect and immensely unhappy with it.

"Testing, testing," croaked a voice from nowhere. American. Male. A touch, just a touch, of lightness to it.

"Uh, yes, hello," the voice said, "Can you hear me? 1. 2. 3. Can you hear me?"

The voice cut out abruptly. The static returned.

Then it disappeared again.

"Goddamn it..." the voice muttered.

A soft click.

Carry on, my wayward son...

Click.

That's one small step for...

Click.

GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL!

Click.

Don't you cry no more!

Click.

"Ah!" the voice said; only it wasn't a voice anymore. It was, instead, a flesh and blood man (or as much as a psychic apparition could be) waving his arms about in a hurried, manic way. He was somewhere upwards of fuck-billion years old, a bit tall, and not at all unlike a turkey. He smiled devilishly and bugged his eyes out; something about him was a bit familiar.

"Shoddy connection," he said, "Excuse me. You are, uh, Mr. Aleister Crowley, right? Last time we got Mark Sheppard. That was awkward."

"What the fuck is this?" asked Crowley, looking at his brother Uriel, confusion overriding their current fight.

Uriel frowned. "I know who he is." he glanced around. "If he's here, things are in motion. It may be best for me to see myself out here." Uriel said, disappearing.

Crowley stared at the mysterious man again. "Alright, Yank. You have my attention. What the hell's going on here? And stop bothering Mark Sheppard, he gets enough death threats because people keep confusing him for me."

[Nationstatelandsville]

"What the fuck is this?" asked Crowley, looking at his brother Uriel, confusion overriding their current fight.

Uriel frowned. "I know who he is." he glanced around. "If he's here, things are in motion. It may be best for me to see myself out here." Uriel said, disappearing.

Crowley stared at the mysterious man again. "Alright, Yank. You have my attention. What the hell's going on here? And stop bothering Mark Sheppard, he gets enough death threats because people keep confusing him for me."

"Call it a 'desperate measure'," the man said, his smile never failing, "These are, after all, quite desperate times. You know that by now, yes?"

He began to wring his hands together, an eager, nervous energy in his old body.

"The angels call it 'Old Night'," he said, "in case you forget. A dark age of dark creatures primordial. A time before the Gotterdamerung and the Lord himself, a time of Ancients. A time of Fae. These times are returning. But you knew that.

What you didn't know is that it is coming very soon. No, not 'very soon'; right now. The work of Yahweh is being undone."

[Nightkill the Emperor]

"What the fuck is this?" asked Crowley, looking at his brother Uriel, confusion overriding their current fight.

Uriel frowned. "I know who he is." he glanced around. "If he's here, things are in motion. It may be best for me to see myself out here." Uriel said, disappearing.

Crowley stared at the mysterious man again. "Alright, Yank. You have my attention. What the hell's going on here? And stop bothering Mark Sheppard, he gets enough death threats because people keep confusing him for me."

"Call it a 'desperate measure'," the man said, his smile never failing, "These are, after all, quite desperate times. You know that by now, yes?"

He began to wring his hands together, an eager, nervous energy in his old body.

"The angels call it 'Old Night'," he said, "in case you forget. A dark age of dark creatures primordial. A time before the Gotterdamerung and the Lord himself, a time of Ancients. A time of Fae. These times are returning. But you knew that.

What you didn't know is that it is coming very soon. No, not 'very soon'; right now. The work of Yahweh is being undone."

"I almost feel like approving of that." Crowley noted. "Fuck him. Seriously, and with all passion intended-" His voice began turning more Scottish as he spoke, representative of Lucifer's old accent. "Fuck him. What work of his? What's coming undone then, hmm? He didn't create this world." A pause as Crowley remembered the Gotterdammerung. "Well, not all of it and not all by himself." he conceded.