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Naval Monte
Postmaster-General
 
Posts: 13807
Founded: Sep 04, 2014
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Naval Monte » Wed Oct 30, 2019 1:11 pm

Secrets of the Raven

Unfortunately anything Elizabeth could say to Dawn about the others plotting against her never hand out as the chains and wires came throughout the tunnel. Because Elizabeth was not a part of the network she wasn't distracted by the awful hentai Jackie decided to flood the network with, though that made her scared when she heard the others scream in revulsion or shock before the attack occurred. 

"What the hell Jackie!" Mai screamed in outrage as she tried to fight back against the images flooding in her mind. As she almost didn't see the chains coming towards her but before the hooks can get her they were caught by Metis who summoned a pair of mechanical wings that released particles of energy as she aerial dash to grab the chains. 

Alex caught the chains in a telekinetic grip while both Terry and Elizabeth used their tenebraes to grab the chains while Wei did the same with the demonic hands that came from the ground. Rolo jumped to the right and rolled on the ground to dodge the ones aim at him. Using strength enhancing runes he would grab the chains just as Jackie mention to pull on them to bring out the one responsible for them.

The group all began to pull on the chains and wires they caught while Mai abd Theo destroyed the ones aim at the group to try and stop them. As they all pulled the chains and wires were forcibly pulled out from the floor, ceiling, and walls, leaving large gashes on the rocky surfaces as each chain lead further deep into the mines, almost telling the group that the one behind them was ahead.

However as the rocks began to fall the group can hear loud rumbling as large cracks began to form, they can feel the Earth shaking. "Shit a cave in! We need to run now!" Elizabeth shouted as she began to run as the rocks from above began to fall. Alex ephemeral body made her immune to the rock fall so she stays to channel both Aeronous and Tenebrous aether. The former was to make the group not be slowed down by air resistance as they ran while the latter made the pull of gravity lighter so they can run faster.

Rolo and Metis both benefited from the spell increase because the runesmith had speed amplification runes on him and Metis was much faster than any humans in general, still they enjoyed the new increase in their speed even if it almost caused them to collide with things.

As the group ran through the collapsing tunnel they dodged large holes forming on the ground and falling rocks and collapsing walls. Theo used his golem to create a rolling mound that smoothly moved on the floor, standing on top of it with Wei and Richard who were not the most physically capable members of the team, neither was he if he was being honest. Mai was glad that she took gymnastics courses back in her studies as she jump over large holes that form in front of her. 

Elizabeth moved to the left as a large rock nearly fell on top of her. Behind her the coat flap almost like a cape as she kept her eyes from both above and in front of her, seeing Rolo and Metis in front of her. Terry had his tenebraes deflect any rocks that would fall on top of him and anyone close to him which right now were Mai and Jackie.

The group didn't know when they reached the chamber but the next thing they knew they find themselves within a clear opening with three tunnels lay before them. Old rotten wooden boxes with rusty miner tools and a few oil lamps hanging on rusty nails greeted them. The tunnel they came from produced a large plume of dust as it cave in. The group covered their mouths and eyes as they began to cough. 

Once the dust began to settle they would see that the tunnel they came from was sealed. "Damn it, we're trapped in here." Terry cursed. Everyone else had the same concern of being trapped, most turning to Dawn as either she or her sister would be the ticket on getting out of the mines.

The concern over Dawn assisting them would take a backseat as they heard the clangs and rattles of chains coming from one of the tunnels. "So, do we stay here and fight or flee to one of the tunnels?" Elizabeth suggested. "So long as we don't split up I'm game for anything." Mai replied back. The others knew Alex would sense their powers and follow them through that if they chose to run.



Seeds of Anxiety

Herbert was a busy man, regardless of the time of date. He was the link between the Branhwrn sector and Queensport, having offices in both sectors. If he was honest he enjoyed working in Branhwrn (a nickname he preferred to use more since he can't properly say the real name) as the cases in the town aren't as hectic as those on Queensport.

Now itwasn't to say that Queensport didn't have law enforcement and citizens that are capable of self regulating themselves but in a massive city within a pocket dimension, away from the prying eyes of world governments, normalcy preservation organizations, and other occult organizations as well as the general public, the residents of the city can be more open to express themselves than those who live Branhwrn.

Both were nexus sites but with Lludw Cigfrain being in reality where humanity reside it meant that most anomalies and anomalous groups have to hide which made the town seem to be more quiet and peaceful, at least that was the illusion it had cast on AEGIS and the Celestial Order for a long time. The Crimsonites had greatly upset the natural order of the town, disrupting the delicate balance of power between the different cults and secret societies that lived in the town and committing untold amount of deaths.

The anomalous ecosystem within the town was severely hit and was now on the verge of collapsing while politically the Crimsonite left behind a massive power vacuum that was now attracting new groups to the town to fill the void with other groups who did not join the Fold War now see this as their chance to try and eliminate rivals. The fact that new creatures were now introduced or are entering the town only added more fuel to chaos occurring the town's occult underbelly.

The town was a powder keg waiting to explode and the sector in charge of it was still bring rebuild. Queensport can't assist much or take over as they are needed to monitor for any paracriminal and esoterrorist groups who would try to take advantage of the situation and stop them from going to the town. In short they were ensuring the new sector won't be overwhelmed from the many new threats now emerging.

Herbert had some much in his mind that he didn't realize that Valerian and Avarice saw him. The two would have to walk up to him and make their presence known to him. Once the two did so he would look surprised. He would try to speak but unpronounceable mumbles came out due to the pens on his mouth. Should the two help him with the pens he would say. "Thank you. It's nice seeing you here Valerian. I was beginning to worry you won't arrive but now that you are here I feel that things might begin to improve on site 49." He would look down to see Avarice.

"Why is she with you? I thought you wish to terminate her?" He asked. He would see the large crowds and come to the conclusion that maybe this wasn't the best setting to talk about what he needs to share with them. "Actually you can tell me about that in one of the restaurants. I will also ask any questions you will have on your new assignment." He explained as he looked around for a good restaurant for them to go into.

"You two got any preferences? I don't mind where we go. I've been branching my taste to try out more anomalous cuisine. A perk due to my occupation and work station. I have a feelin you two might like visiting the city where I work in. Perhaps you can go there if you ever get a time off from work?" He suggested with a smile.



The Great Wizarding Rebellion

Johann looked over at Polly as she snapped at her former comrades, telling them if the chase they have witnessed throughout the facility, the lives senselessly lost for them to break out, of how each one was no different from the liars and murders they fought before in this world that once made up the Ministry of Magic.

When Kiara mention that he might execute them the man would have been concerned that Kiara was a mind reader, but so far she showed no such capabilities before so he doubt that was the case, it was just a lucky guess. He kept a blank expression so none could know how right the girl was.

The director wanted this group killed for all of the lives lost for their misguided, sanctimonious, "mission" to "liberate" the wizards and for setting back their operations for years, one that he will admit was afraid might be one they won't be able to recover from. In his eyes self proclaimed heroes either need to be locked up for the good of society or forced to see the errors of their ways and either retire from their vignette ways or join the proper authorities if they want to make a positive change to the world.

But with these people he saw them as delusional interdimmies who are either to blind  by their distorted ideals to see the atrocities they have committed or like several cult leaders hide their malicious intent behind a veil of heroics and justice. The only thing these people deserve is a bullet through the skull and to be buried and forgotten in shallow graves.

However this was not his call, this was the Overseers call. Madison was still seen as an important figure in this world even if her image was divided among the people now. The director thought of releasing the videos of the containment breach and framing it ad Madison's doing, turn public opinion on her entirely negative and help sway the Overseers to see things in his way. But while he was willing to bring the recordings with him he felt hesitant on releasing such a terrible humiliating blow to AEGIS for the public to see, even if the public was not from his world.

As he muses on what to do with the tapes he heard Kiara confess that she and most likely Skye intentionally released the anomalies to distract the guards. The tengu snorted. "We were decoys for you? I don't like it but I do owe you for my freedom. So I will let this slide child." The Inugami frown, he seems to find it upsetting that a child was forced to make such a terrible choice.

Johann glared at her. "You realize that we were not only protecting ourselves and our world from those anomalies but also the people from this world from them as well? Not a single one belongs in this world. Some of them actively wish to bring harm to people and others are dangerous to anyone eno stumble across them without knowing what they are capable of. All of those threats are now unleashed upon the world again because of you all. Can you all say that you can live with yourselves knowing that many innocent lives will be lost because of your actions?" He berated them. His voice was as cold as the artic as he didn't hide his contempt.

"Innocent? From what we have heard the people in this world aren't so innocent as you want us to believe, especially the ones in charge." The tengu sneered back. "It's no surprise you people would work with them. Their prosecution on all things that don't fit into your delicate world view of what is normal is something you both have in common. They even exploit, imprison, and kill members of their own kind for displaying powers the rest lack. No matter what universe it is you humans are all the same." 

The blond didn't respond to the anti-humanist tengu, instead he look to Miria as she seem to somehow got the dragonflies to cooperate with her, something he didn't think was possible. "None of you will get your stuff. You all manage to cause this much destruction without your weapons. If I let you all do that then more lives will be lost."

The Inugami spoke. "People are dying regardless if we are armed or not. Right now they are giving you the choice to cooperate with us. I'm not sure what is the morality of some of my current team members on "enhanced interrogation" or mind control but we will be forced to use those if you resist." The Inugami warned him. The warning didn't faze Johann. "Go ahead, do your worst to me. But I will not break my loyalty to the Imperative and more importantly I will not break to any of you. I'm resistant to torture and mind control." He told them in a matter of fact tone.

Outside of the base with Kayta the robed individual she hit got back up with no signs of injuries, in fact there wasn't even a hint of dust or grime on their robes ad they got up. The robed figure watch her drive off as their reflection shrunk from the increasing distance. Yet she would still feel their eyes were on her even when she could no longer see thej from her rear view mirror. As the woman kept driving away from the robed figures she would still get the feeling that something was wrong. 

Should she look at the seat next to her she would she one of the daggers the robed figures held stabbed into the seat. As she looked at the dagger she would feel that someone or something was in the car with her, right behind the woman watching her.
Last edited by Naval Monte on Wed Oct 30, 2019 2:45 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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Demincia
Minister
 
Posts: 2326
Founded: Jul 08, 2010
Democratic Socialists

Postby Demincia » Wed Oct 30, 2019 7:14 pm

Secrets of the Raven
Devil's Pit Mine
Dawn Elissa


Dawn looked up at the ceiling as the tunnel began to collapse. "Well, that's problematic." she commented as everyone began to run. She didn't share the group's sense of urgency though, and stayed in place watching them leave her behind. Just after the last person made it clear, the path closed off separating her from everyone. "It's always something." she said to herself.

When the group would look back, Dawn wasn't there. As fear of her abandoning them probably set into some people, she stepped out from behind some of the old wooden crates, completely unscathed. "This place is a Health & Safety nightmare." she said, completely ignoring the fact that she should be dead.

She glanced down at her hands and realized they were empty. "Oh, bugger." she muttered and held one hand out towards the pile of rocks. Some of them shifted and crumbled a little as her scythe erupted out from the pile, causing the blockage to resettle and some smaller stones to fall. The weapon flew right into her hand, and she placed the pommel on the ground. "That's better. Can't leave the important things behind." she said.
Last edited by Demincia on Thu Oct 31, 2019 6:44 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Skylus
Negotiator
 
Posts: 6510
Founded: Oct 25, 2016
Democratic Socialists

Postby Skylus » Wed Oct 30, 2019 8:51 pm

TGWR
AEGIS Base
rough guesstimate - October/Jakel 28th, 1756 A. H./2019
Exact time - unknown


Madi looked up at Polly, wondering how the women had seemed to nearly freeze her solid.. "Polly, please unfreeze me." Her voice was hinged with annoyance and it's wasn't phrased as a question, but rather as a statement. After a few seconds, Madi tried to summon her magic to unfreeze herself, and rolled her eyes in annoyance as her plan to unfreeze herself didn't work.

"Alright, that didn't go as planned. Probably some kind of spell blocker or whatever. Johaan, I have a suggestion, if you want to hear it. How about this, in exchange for me giving myself up, surrendering, whatever the hell you want to call it. Everyone else walks free, with their stuff.

Doug risked taking one step forwards, albeit somewhat slowly due to him also being blood-frozen. "I'm sure that's not necessary, maybe we can come to some sort of agreement."

"No. That ship sailed as soon as I came back. I don't know why AEGIS has this sudden interest in me, or all of you, or what's even really happened since I left and then came back."

There was silence (or the closest thing to silence at that moment) before Madi was interrupted by Dragmire appearing nearby the group, holding a tome in each hand. The middle aged warlock appeared to not notice the group for a few seconds and then lowered one of the tomes. "Why is it that whenever I leave any of you alone, you seem to wander into situations where you might get yourselves killed?"

No one really had an answer to that and Doug took the silence as to talk again. "Look, I'm not involved in this, I was rifted here via a portal, I have not killed anyone inside this base, I have not even used any of the weapons I have on me. By all means, if you want to talk to my superiors, you can do that; I'm just stating that if you decide to prosecute me, even though I haven't done anything, - well I suppose I did break in but that's besides the point - then I suppose since I'm here you're also going to be treating me as if I'm a 'terrorist'. How about you explain exactly what's going on, because I have no idea what side of this I'm supposed to be on."
Last edited by Skylus on Wed Oct 30, 2019 8:57 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Rostavykhan
Minister
 
Posts: 2184
Founded: Sep 30, 2017
Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Rostavykhan » Thu Oct 31, 2019 12:35 pm

The Great Wizarding Rebellion
Miria


"I'm just as disappointed as you are that it had to come to this.", Said Miria, taking another small step towards Polly and Johann. "But what's done is done. Frankly, I can't afford to surrender and be left to the mercy of these Humans any more."

One more step. She stopped. Her entire body ached, itched, burned. The sensation was familiar to her. She knew that Polly could manipulate the metal in their blood. She was using more iron to make herself armour. Miria wouldn't be able to attack her, then. She grimaced, her jagged teeth gleaming - an attempt to be intimidating, or a sign of her discomfort and pain? "I have someone waiting for me back home, and I'm trying my hardest to not break down and join Madi and Kiara in their murder spree, but I'm not going to just give up now so that I can get locked up in solitary for the rest of my life, or get executed, and leave that person wondering where I ever went, and why I never came back."

Her grimace twitched, and relaxed. "I didn't want to break out.", She said, directed just as much to Johann as Polly. "I was just fine staying put in my cell and waiting to be released, but I had to run because when my door was kicked down, I had a giant deer monster that wanted to eat me, and my choices became staying put and becoming its appetizer, or running away, and between you and me? I'd rather run away. I didn't kill anyone, I just wanted to not get eaten, and now our choices are to get out of here, or get captured again? I'd rather escape. Not being in a cell and being killed are kind of my priorities right now."

She moved her arms a bit, gently jostling the wounded dragonfly. "And I'm kind of also assisting others in the same endeavour."

Katya

What did she do? Katya didn't want to stop the car, in case those people would be able to catch up. At the same time, it was dangerous to turn around and start shooting when she was speeding down an unfamiliar road. hitting one of them and speeding off didn't seem to deter them, and if one of them was in the car with her, then that meant that they didn't have much trouble dealing with physical barriers anyway. She did, though, and if she crashed the car or spun out, it would be her who was injured.

Her stomach began to feel weak. She was...nervous? Scared? She didn't know what to do in this situation. She hadn't expected it, and now that it was happening, she didn't know how to proceed. What could she do, other than endanger herself, or surrender? She didn't even know what they wanted with her.

Katya sighed, closed her eyes, and took in a deep breath...then she opened her eyes again. Her knuckled whitened around the grip of her pistol. Did they know that she perceived them? Maybe. She didn't know, but would it be better to pretend like she didn't, or to move slowly and hope they told her to freeze? No. Katya was in a life or death situation, as far as she knew, and it seemed like she was going to be hurt any way, so she may as well put up some fight. She began to turn her head slowly, as if she were being cautious, or simply scanning her environment, and then...she quickly spun around, thrusting her gun out towards the backseat.
Last edited by Rostavykhan on Thu Oct 31, 2019 12:38 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Speyland
Diplomat
 
Posts: 626
Founded: May 19, 2018
Ex-Nation

Postby Speyland » Thu Oct 31, 2019 6:45 pm

Ryo Hazuki
Shenmue Universe

It was midnight in Sakuragaoka that Ryo is trying to see the black hole himself. No more than four police officers can be seen patrolling while Ryo is hiding behind the car. "I need a rock to distract them." Ryo said to himself as he grabbed a rock that he found on the ground. He then threw a rock far enough for them to notice it. "Who's there?" One of them asked. "Let's go find out!" One of them said as all of them went after the rock. "It worked." Ryo said happily as his plan worked. He slowly walked towards the black hole at the construction site and examine it. "I wonder what happens if I touch it." Ryo said curiously.

Ryo touched the black hole only to get quickly sucked by it.
Last edited by Speyland on Fri Nov 01, 2019 5:18 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Naval Monte
Postmaster-General
 
Posts: 13807
Founded: Sep 04, 2014
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Naval Monte » Fri Nov 01, 2019 9:09 am

Secrets of the Raven
Devil's Pit Mine


"I agree with you there on not leaving important things behind." The group would see Alex's head phasing through the rocks followed by her shoulders, her hands down to the forearms as well as the right foot and ankle also stuck out. "Nice to see you join us Alex. I was worried we might leave you behind." Rolo said, glad to not lose another member of the team. 

Alex would fully phase through as she shrugged. "How can I lose you guys? Your auras are like a lighthouse to me." The lich would hear the chain rattles. "Bugger, that is the one who set the chains on us isn't it?" Once more Elizabeth would tell the group that they need to leave now, but it was too late for them to do so.

From the ceiling more chains and barbed wires came down in a swarm, yet none came down for the group. Instead they descended like a curtain to cover the tunnel entrances, blocking them off from the group. From the center of the room blue flames would erupt. The group would be hit by the overwhelming scent of sulfur, rotting meat, burnt metal, boiling chemicals, and blood. This scent was a familiar one for the group.

From the flames a figure emerged. The figure's torso, shoulders, and arms were covered in a black knights armor with a few red outlines. The armor lack both a helmet and leg armor plates, mainly because the knight lack legs and a head. Instead a mass of chains replaced the legs as the demon floated in the air. On his left hand, being held by long, thin, and crooked boney fingers was a massive skull. It was human like in shape yet it was missing the bottom jaw bone and it had saber tooth canines and bluish purple orbs of flames inside the sockets of his eyes. On top of his head was a golden crown with jewels such as rubies, sapphires, emeralds, pearls, and amethysts. Each jewel was within the gaping mouths of a demon.

On the right hand were more chains but the chains connected to a large metal sphere that had scythe like blades on its sides, almost like they were claws. On the top of the sphere was an eye like symbol with the spot where the pupil should be having a thin spike jetting out. From the same fire a horse emerged. The horse was red in color, both because of the rust and blood on the armor but because of the bloody muscles and organs exposed to the world. The horse was extremely thin, it was practically skeletal. The armor was more of an exoskeleton for the horse with some parts being transparent. The group would see blood vessels and plastic tubes crisscross inside the horse. 

On the back the horse had metal wings yet being held by hooks were flaps of stretched out skin being used as the membranes for the horse, the flaps of skin had faces on the upper parts. On the head was a long drill acting like a unicorn horn and from its frothing mouth were long fangs. The empty sunken in pits for eyes burn with twin orbs of raging embers as it as it let out a loud and distorted version of a horse call.

"Sorcerers, Witches, you all stand before the presence of the Great Duke of the Infernus. I am Berith. I was called upon this world to prevent you from venturing further into my summoner's domain. Your persistence has earned my respect so I will give you all this final chance. Leave this place now or I will be forced to end your lives." The greater demon warned, his voice echoing throughout the chamber even though he lacks any proper means to speak to them.

Elizabeth step forward. "Look I appreciate that you are willing to show us mercy. However you must know that if Andarta and her cult succeeds with their ritual than you will either be killed or will never be allowed back to this world. You show enough control to not kill us immediately so why can't you fight against the binding spell that holds you?" Elizabeth asked, curious on why the duke was still following through the binding even though he was still in enough control to not start fighting against them moment he saw them.

The fiery orbs seem to dim slightly. "The silver ring used was not only forged within the foundries of the Aetherium, but it was encrusted with soul gems and etched with powerful goetic sigils. It is those properties that prevent me from fully breaking out of my bind." He would explain. 

Elizabeth was going to suggest on breaking the binding but she would suddenly be pulled back by her mother just as the metal ball would slam down where she was, easily breaking through the ground. "My summoner figured out that I was delaying my orders to kill you all. You must either weaken me to make banishment possible or find a way to break the binding spell." He explained as the horse's drill began to rev up. It would charge towards Rolo he would jump out of the way, Metis would do the same as the horse continue to go after her. 

The horse would keep on going, it's hooves burst into fire as it reach the wall and place its hooves in the wall and defying gravity began to gallop on the wall. Theodore ordered his golem to form hands to grab the infernal horse. As two large stoney hands grew from the wall they would come down on the horse but the creature jump off the wall. At first it was falling down with it's back towards the ground but the horse would right itself and with a few flaps on its wings it would begin to soar to the air and fly in the chamber 

The horse would fire a massive jet of burning plasma from its horn at hands, destroying them and the wall ae molten rock fell on to the ground. Theo would summon clay tentacles with spikes sticking out. He would thrust his arm out and order his golem to open fire on the horse. As the spikes flew out the horse would dodge the spikes with surprising fluidity and grace, occasionally firing a beam of plasma to destroy some of the spikes it felt it could not dodge.

Berith was swinging the bladed ball over his empty hand before flinging it to Elizabeth but a shadowy tendril would emerge and defect the ball away from her. The ball would fly towards Dawn but as it got closer to her it's direction would change thanks to Alex moving it with her wraith abilities. The ball would instead fly close to to by the side but Dawn would feel the ground she was standing on sink as another tentacle would grow. The limb would swing and hit the ball, sending it soaring high into the air.

The greater demons arm was left up high and pulled back as his steed saw the ball flying towards it, the horse was charging a beam to fire the ball away. Just as it was going to hit it Berith would suddenly snap his right hand forward, causing the ball to move upward and only make glancing hit on the horn. As the ball made a wide arc to go back down on the occultist he originally targeted the horse would fire the beam on the path the ball was going through. As the beam hit the chamber wall more molten rock would slough down as lava. The intense light caused the tentacle to dissipate as black smoke as the ball finally emerge from the beaming, glowing red hot due to the heat. 

Elizabeth already ran from the spot so when it hit the ground she was stabbed and squashed. But she was caught off guard as the moment the ball hit the ground an explosion would go off. The shock wave would send her flying while she can feel her sink burning from the blast of heat. As the witch hit the ground Alex would fire off arcs of electricity st the demon, furious for it harming her daughter. The greater demon groan in pain yet he still continue to swing his weapon despite the pain, only making Alex increase the voltage of her attack.

The greater demon saw Terry channeling for a spell and as he throw his weapon at the mage Metis would dash forward with a double bladed axe. She would jump up in the air and swing at the ball, causing another explosion. The automaton would fly towards the wall and bounce off it as she landed face first on the ground. The automaton was not damaged by the stunt, burns and cracks covered her as her axe's blade shattered to pieces. Yet the ball flew back to the demon, sticking to his chest and causing another explosion that sent even Berith floating back. 

As the smoke cleared they can see the dent and puncture holes made to his chest armor, yet like the electricity it did not phase him and he resumed swinging his weapon. Elizabeth would be getting up, albeit with help from Terry. She ignored the burns and cuts, or the fact she felt her bones felt busted and her organs were moved around. "Terry I need your help to draw several magic circle. "I'm gonna call up some help to deal with this demon and hopefully either sent him back or distract him long enough to undo the binding on him." The man agreed as he used the tenebraes he stil had to draw magic circles on the ground.

Berith would swing his weapon towards the golem and while a wall was erected it would be blown to pieces, making the golem forms dome to protect his master and the beast master and the infernal blood mage from the molten shrapnel. The eyes of the demon would fly out of his sockets, enlarging as more air was fed to them. The eyes would fire out smaller firey projectiles at Jackie and Dawn.


The Great Wizarding Rebellion

"Don't let her go Dahlia. You're doing a good thing be keeping her in place." He complimented the girl. When Madi mention that a spell blocker was in place he found the piece of information interesting. It would appear the Thaumatology department would have been wrong on relying on just wards to trap her if thaumaturgy couldn't release one from Polly's grip. The director could see her being perfect for apprehending thaumaturges and other anomalies. So long as they aren't powerful reality benders or can counteract her abilities or nullify it.

The ghoul would soon offer him a deal, her life for the freedom of everyone in the group. He looked over at the group, his gaze taking harsh look on the likes of the to yokais and at Kiara but softening slightly on people like Miria and Bilbo. "Protocol has it that I can not let any if you escape without the explicit orders of the Over, especially if they broke out of containment." Before the tengu can say anything Johann raised his hand to stop him.

"But I believe a compromise can be reached." Those words surprised the group but those who knew AEGIS already suspected that there was a catch to their deal. Sure enough those suspicions would be true with the next words to leave Johann's mouth. "In my world there a law for thaumaturgy called Equivalent Exchange. The basic tenant of Equivalent Exchange is as follows: "In order to obtain or create something, something of equal value must be lost or destroyed.""

Those words made the inugami look at him with a solemn expression while the tengu look furious. The woman hid her face behind her hair while the more animalistic anomalies of course didn't quite grasp what he was going with. Chances are few of the sapient members of the group didn't grasp where he was going with this either.

"You want me to release 19 beings for the price of one, that is an unequal trade off. That is unacceptable. One life exchanged will only get you one life released. You will need to hand over more people in your group if you want more to be released." He explained to the witch.

The man wasn't too pleased with the idea of letting them go so willingly but he was hoping to use this predicament to either tear this rag tag team apart or get them to argue with themselves long enough for him to contact help to get him and Polly out of this mess. 

Mirira soon stepped up to try and talk with Polly. She tried to be intimidating with her grin but the diminutive girl barely faze the much taller director. She told her that she has someone who was waiting for her and that she will do anything to get back to them, even if it means she breaks down and joins the murder spree.

However the mention of the demon deer made Johann show worry. He took out his radio. "Jin, is the deer and satyr out?" He waited to hear from the immortal. The radio would blare out and he would soon hear Jin replying back. "Sorry sir but they are. The satyr is out on the landing pad killing us and the deer is still in the halls. It's fighting against the Brutalizer." The immortal told him.

Johann had to curse his luck. Some of the anomalies he wish were still contained were now loose. He needs to get to the armory before any of the two do. They must not get what is stored in there. Ganondorf soon reach the group, asking why whenever the elf was left alone he got in trouble. Doug would of course try to defend himself and mention that he was rift in, but acknowledged that he did break in and that was his crime.

Doug would hear something that Link would have wished to have heard the guards back in his cell said. "You assisted with us back in Malachor V. I found it odd why you were with them but if what you say is true than we can't lock you up seeing as your nation is with the same Union as ours. But next time make sure you get clearance to enter our facility." 

Johann would explain to Doug that the group he was with were a group causing trouble in the English countryside and accosted a valuable informant which hot them involved. He would tell Doug that rifts brought over several anomalies that were in their custody and the facility they were in was to store them. They were helping the British government in reclaiming the anomalies while they try to bring order to the country after London was destroyed in an anomalous incident. 

"I'm glad the anomaly call War isn't with the group. 836 only was able to destroy London because he released it from its prison." Johann explained.



When Kayta turn to point her gun at the backseat she found no one there, the seats were empty. Should she look at the knife that was stabbed to the seat next to her she would find it gone too with no signs of damage on the seat. 

She would feel no hint of there ever being a presence in the car. She would most likely feel very confused and paranoid over what just occurred, wondering if the events that transpired were real or if her overworked mind hallucinated the knife and her anxiety made it feel that one of the robed figures was in the car with her? Regardless she can feel relief that she was now safe.

Yet the moment she looked on to the road she would see a lone robed figure standing in front of Katya, holding the same knife she saw stabbed on the seat. The figure stood still as a statue even as the car sped towards him.
Last edited by Naval Monte on Fri Nov 01, 2019 10:32 am, edited 5 times in total.
Naval Monte- The Mediterranean crossroads of mind-controlling conspiracies, twisted dimensions, inhuman depravity, questionable science, unholy commerce, heretical faiths, absurd politics, and cutting-edge art.

Make wonderful memories here, in Naval Monte.

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Demincia
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Demincia » Fri Nov 01, 2019 7:19 pm

Secrets of the Raven
Devil's Pit Mine
Dawn and Celeste Elissa


Dawn appeared in front of Jackie suddenly, taking all of the hits from the fire for her. The Primordial didn't react as the flames impacted her and curled around her body. "Honestly, that's just insulting that you thought it would work." she said. Her eyes snapped to the ball flying through the air and an idea came to her.

A rift opened near her and Celeste stepped out of it, this time holding a large warhammer. She readied her grip and swung at the orb like it was a baseball, aiming to send right back into the demon's chest. "About time something interesting happens." she said.

"I know how much you enjoy hitting things." Dawn replied, moving in front of Terry and Elizabeth to give them some cover. "You'd be so upset if you missed out."

"You're so considerate." Celeste turned over her weapon to the spike and took a swing right for the platemail looking to pierce it.

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Rostavykhan
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Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Rostavykhan » Sat Nov 02, 2019 12:28 pm

The Great Wizarding Rebellion
Miria


Equivalent Exchange? Nonsense. Magicians might have believed in that there Johann was from, but Miria was different. Janavar believed in death and entropy. They could just be rid of the man blocking their path and be done with it.

No. No, that wasn't her. Miria was just angry. They were all so close to escape, it wasn't fair for them to be held up now. That was why she was annoyed. Just letting one person out wasn't good enough! She growled, dug her heels in, and glanced Madi and Kiara's way, her frustration getting the better of her. "We don't have to do this, right?", She asked, impatient. "We can just...ugh!"

She stopped herself right there. Another annoyed sigh escaped her, her entire body deflating for a moment. As if reminding herself not to get too worked up, Miria closed her eyes and took a moment to breathe. She was still feeling a little sick after her breakdown earlier, so stressing out now would only make her worse.

Katya

Nothing. Nobody was there. Katya didn't believe it. She saw the knife there, so something had been inside of her car. She looked back quickly - no knife. She knew it had been there, but now it wasn't? Something was clearly wrong. She quickly glanced back again, into the back seat, even onto the floor, certain that she would see something, yet she was disappointed to find nothing. That only worried her more. Something was messing with her head.

Katya grunted and cursed under her breath. Her muscled relaxed only a little, if only because she wasn't immediately in danger, but the sight of the figure ahead of her as she turned back around made her tense right back up. She was fast enough to realize what it was ahead of her, but still so sudden that she couldn't help but jump. She floored it, realizing that hitting it probably wasn't going to hurt it any way, hoping that it would at least get the hint that she wasn't interested and leave her alone. She sure as hell wasn't going to try to stop, knowing that if she did, whatever was after her would certainly try to stab her, or worse.
LEARN TO HATE ; TOTAL HATRED FOR TOTAL WAR
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Menschenfleisch
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Founded: Nov 01, 2017
Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Menschenfleisch » Fri Nov 08, 2019 7:10 am

Secrets of the Raven | Jacquelyn

Jackie hadn’t planned on her ‘attack’ having such an effect on the group, nor had she expected it to occur at the same time as the Crimsonites’ assault. She wasn’t sure whether to defend her actions, to try to ignore what had happened or to apologise profusely. However, of those options, only one of them appealed to her present emotions: thus, she stayed quiet and hoped that nobody brought up either the unfortunate timing of her little ‘joke’ nor whether it had been in good or bad taste - because the answer to that question was pretty fucking obvious. The bright idea that she’d had to pull down the chains also ended quite poorly, resulting in the group tearing out great chunks of the landscape and causing a cave-in. Jack saw it coming from a mile away, both with her genre-savviness and her eyes. However, unlike the rest of the group, she was not an acrobat. The whole team was swallowed up by a thicket of dense smog and while the others retained an awareness of their surroundings, Jackie did not. She collided with walls, scrambled along the mineshaft’s edges, trying to find some solace or safe spot. Between the dust and the tears in her eyes she couldn’t see a thing, and she soon found herself almost totally lost, blindly stumbling toward the sound of footsteps which were growing more and more distant. She didn’t feel any resentment toward them for leaving her: how could they be expected to put their own lives at risk for her sake? The only thing that she felt now was an overwhelming panic as the light of survival grew dimmer and dimmer. For a moment, she thought she saw a silhouette in the haze, and the embers began to glow once again - but then she tripped over an outcrop of fungus, hitting the floor hard. Rocks rained down on her back and she tried to raise herself off the ground only to lay one of her palms upon the tip of a crystal formation. It pierced her skin, eliciting a sensation not unlike plunging one’s arm into a bucket of syringes.

Despite the pain and the dust, Jacquelyn pushed onward. She wasn’t scared, just… tense. Being tense sounded less severe than being afraid, but the word itself undersold how potent it was. Every minute little muscle in her body, even the ones she didn’t know she had, were utterly taut. She felt like a spring being squashed flat, about to either snap or thrust upward with tremendous force. This was the sensation of fear sans the belief that the future was uncertain. She knew that her future was already determined, so why should she worry about it? What she was feeling right now was just a physiological response. It wasn’t logical, she couldn’t die. Thus, she managed to separate herself from the situation presented before her as if it were just a video game or movie. The excitement she felt, the apprehension that her situation elicited; those were desirable things, for they were emotions arisen from a work of entertainment. A rock struck her on the side of the head, causing her to cry out. She slipped on a lump of moss and hit the wall, inadvertently pressing her face against the rock. Her throat was filled with chalky dust which soaked up her saliva, rendering her efforts to breathe both painful and vain. She was not afraid, she reminded herself. In a moment, some salvation would present itself. Aha! The bottle! She put her hand on her belt, only to cut her hands on broken glass. Her flask of twister had shattered, spilling it on the ground beneath her feet. Her foot sunk into the earth, squelching and warping like hot, fresh toffee. The earth closed in around her, and all went dark.

Half a minute later, something began to seep through the barrier of rock. A tendril of skin, bulbous like a peach, pushed itself through a tiny gap between two large, oblong stones. It fashioned itself into a hook-like utensil and pulled more of its body through the hole. IT looked like a sausage was being pushed through the gap in the barricade. More limbs and appendages began to push through in other places, slowly coalescing in one location. A great lump of flesh came tumbling toward the ground, from which a rather familiar face emerged. ”Dicks.” Jackie pawed at her tongue, coughing up clouds of soot. ”I had to eat rocks to survive. I was stuffing dirt into my gob my the handful, and you bastards were just standing around? Unbelievable..” IT wasn’t real anger by any stretch of the imagination: she made those accusations with a cheeky tone to her voice. IT was just enough to conceal her legitimate loathing and terror. Did none of them consider her? Had any one of them even thought, for just a moment, to check that she was with them? Was she really so alone, despite how many were around her? The thought terrified her more than the cave-in ever had. Terry hadhardly protected her; he’d been too caught up in ensuring his own escape which had been significantly easier than hers since he could fuck with space and time like they were drunk sorority girls and he was a 20-something Michael god damn Buble. She reached into her mouth with two fingers and pulled out a long, amorphous lump of yellow-gray goo: it looked like rock but it had the consistency of gasoline jelly. She tossed it on the ground, whereupon it splattered and solidified. Alex poked her head through the barrier shortly after Jack, greeting them with a rather unnecessary amount of cheer. ”Glad to see that you’re doing all right, ghostie. Though, it’s not as if you were at risk in the first place. Come to think of it, how come you haven’t phased through the floor and told us where we were going?” She guffawed. ”Nah, just messin’. You’re not stupid enough to have not thought of that before.” She turned away in order to speak to Liz, only for chains and flames to begin bursting from the walls and floor. The smell was anything but subtle: it was a noxious miasma. To the others, it was merely physiologically repulsive. To Jackie, those smells reawakened old memories, too. Burning men, vomit on the floor. Dead children, numbering by the thousands, slotted into holes in the wall. Cities, cinders. IT didn’t mean anything to her: she was merely watching the events of a movie play out. However, the contents of said film were repugnant like nothing else. These nightmares had been growing longer as of late. They’d begun as mere moments of recollection - still images, like war photos - and had lengthened from there. She spent hours inside her own head pulling the fingers off a man and making them grow back. Over time, her efforts dislocated each of his tendons, ligaments and joints. There was a satisfying pop, like plastic wrap being pierced, whenever one of his synovial packets gave way and split. She twisted his fingers the wrong way, wearing down the cartilage over time so that his finger bones grated against each other with a slow, grainy scraping sound. She was the eagle, and he was Prometheus: every night she would extract his eyes. At first, she did so with acid and scalpels, burning away the flesh on his face so that his eyeballs dangled from threads of muscle - no longer contained by his sockets - and later with her fingers, breaking his skull into so many fragments that she could simply reach in and pluck them out like they were plums in a wooden bowl. She fed them to him, putting them in dumplings whose wrappings were his skin. She flensed the flesh from his bones with surgical precision, leaving him as a naked nervous system for months: no bones, muscles, eyes or ears - just a brain, a spine and a mass of pink tendrils exposed to the elements. She left him out in the windy desert during the day, when the winds would whip the sands up in the air and each grain that fell on his naked nerves would feel like a thousand fingernails being ripped from his digits, and at night she would soak him in vinegar or honey. She did something different each day, never allowing herself to be consistent. She stopped his heart once, depriving him of oxygen. She let him feel his body rotting away, she let him fester without being able to breathe, blink or speak out. She cooked parts of his body with a lighter and ate him alive, picking bits off every day. She doused his eyes with hydrochloric acid, weaved barbed wire through his skin and clipped his teeth with a bolt cutter. Why did she do this? What was the purpose? Experimentation. He was her guinea pig, a soldier who’d come very close to ending her, cursed with the same immortality that Jack’s ally, Gwen, had possessed. She was curious as to what methods of torture were most effective, was all. But there was something else in here, a memory buried further down. Jack touched it, and screamed. She fell to her knees, butchering her throat: she grabbed a knife with which to punch through her eye, and was only stopped by Mai who tackled her. That memory, that bubble of experience, was what the man had felt. Her old self, the Jacquelyn she had been, had enlisted the help of a psyker: Tim. And every day, at noon, she had beseeched him to transfer the memories of that man - her test subject - into her own mind. All that torture, all that pain, had been her own. Her coldness and brutality bordered on the insane, and yet all of her reasoning for doing it was so mundane and logical that Jack couldn’t find any flaw in it. Her old self had lived through months of unending agony, willingly, just because she was curious; and not once had she faltered or hesitated, so intense was her pragmatism that she hadn’t even flinched when Tim made her live through twenty four hours of pain. A single moment of that ordeal, a mere millisecond of it, had driven Jack in the present to try to kill herself.

Four hundred and twelve days later, Jackie woke up. She sat up, gently pushing Mai to one side, and scraped the nail of her thumb over the back of her hand. She tore up a strip of skin, creating a gash which blood seeped from aplenty. And… nothing. She was aware of the pain, every single facet of it. She could name the nerves that were causing it, describe the structure of the wound and identify each and every one of the membranes and body parts that she had damaged, and yet she could not flinch. She couldn’t suffer. Her gaze fell to the ground, and she swallowed deeply. Her vision blurred, her sleeve came up, and before she knew it she was silently smearing the back of her arm with her tears, clenching her teeth so hard that it felt like they would burst. Her body shook and she was wracked by phantom sobs. ”Haven’t you taken enough from me?” Her question was lonely, quiet and calmly delivered. She watched as Mai turned away from her, leaping into the fray. Berith… the thing’s name was Berith. It smelled like an abattoir and looked like a charnel house fashioned into a weapon. ITs armour was dark as ebony midnight and its flames were bright and pure. The thing was beautiful yet terrible; not beautiful in the way that people were; its beauty was more platonic, more indescribable. It felt like she was looking upon a god, a creature whose worth was a million times her own. She could toil for millennia, and she would achieve but a fraction of what this deity could do with just a word or a flick of its wrist. Its body was cosmic poetry: it rhymed with itself, resonating with a rhythm deeper than mere music or sound. She felt like a weevil listening to an orchestra, unable to piece together all the noises she was hearing and yet remaining aware that it was part of a vast symphony nonetheless. She was… nothing, really, before this thing. She was utterly paralysed by her fear of her past, the vaults of hate and cruelty locked away inside her own brain, and that mania was only exascerbated by the infernal automaton that stood before her. She felt like she was a prison designed to suppress the worst urges of a monster, an entity whose very gaze could set worlds alight and whose words inspired anarchy under the pretense of revolution. She knew - without having any proof yet with utter conviction nonetheless - that she could kill this thing before her. She felt herself sinking into the ground and looked at her hands. They were golden, and the rock beneath them gave off a dull orange hue. She plunged her hands into her lap as if to extinguish them in a basin of water. ”Npo. Shut the fuck up. I don’t need you. Her breathing was ragged and her mind was in shambles. She didn’t know what to do besides watch and wait. She was caught between three worlds: the insurmountable titan that stood before her, ready to break her in two; the authors who presided over everything, directing her toward an enigmatic yet predestined future as slowly and as surely as water down a funnel; and herself, that monster locked up in between the folds of her mind. The worst thing was that it never tried to take control: she was the one who accidentally came into contact with it, those buried instincts and memories which - if remembered in their entirety - would certainly banish her humanity and reduce (or… elevate?) her beyond (or beneath) anything she could imagine.

Jacquelyn knew not to move when Berith attacked her; or had she not received the opportunity to move in the first place? Dawn appeared before her in an instant, or had she been there before Berith had attacked? Had Dawn already interceded before Jackie had reacted? The order in which the authors wrote her story was completely separate from the order in which events actually transpired. She swore that she remembered events from days in the future, after a new AEGIS cell had moved into town, but that wasn’t possible… right? And what did it fucking mean? Did it mean that she was destined to survive this, or was that a future that hadn’t been set in stone yet? What was happening to her? Who was she? The ground seemed to throb to the beat of her heart. Little bits of debris jittered and sparked around her, remaining in constant flux as they were molten, cooled and then molten again. She hoped, as an orphan would hope for presents at Christmas, that she would be able to move past her… well, her past. That possibility was distant, impossible and surrounded by insurmountable barriers, but it was her fantasy. She wanted to be strong by her own merits, rich by her own efforts. Stories could go on forever, she understood that she would have all the time in the world if she so chose to pursue that avenue, but looking at herself as she was now, alone and panicked, fighting herself and fighting for herself while everyone around her was doing their damndest to do the right thing - even Andarta - was... it was depressing. It was so, so tempting to seize the name Vanth once again, to embody power and sun. She could be the Earth’s second star, reality’s equal, god’s twin. She could be something vast, something eternal and unfleeting; a thing whose deeds were left undoubted and to whom desire was no less than utter achievement. She had been the Horsemen, she could be Eden. And yet, right now, she was just a tiny mote of cosmic ash stuck between two worlds.

Revelation. A puncture in the chassis of ignorance. She was selfish. How could she justify this apathy? She was a doctor, idle before her patient. She was a parent, facing away from her starving child. She was a soldier, refusing to defend her allies. No, no! That was Andarta’s philosophy! Jacquelyn scrabbled through the dust inside her own head, looking for some moral code or set of ethics that she could agree with. Standing by was not an option: that had gotten Terry nowhere. He had wallowed in self pity and greed for years, whittling away his years with booze and routine. She didn’t want to be that pitiful, pitiable sort of person. Something else, another! Should she be a hero? No, that would make her like the former Andarta, spiteful without end and devoured by self-righteousness. Did she want to pitch her strength to the aid of some other cause, whose judgement she could undoubtedly trust more than her own? That had been Alex’s plot, and it had ended in tragedy for her; the Celestial Order, that organisation which she had trusted to act in service to the greater good, had torn her away from her daughter. It was an unacceptable creed, an amoral stance. Jackie then considered simply removing herself from the world and using her abilities to bring herself pleasure, but that seemed just as selfish as standing by and doing nothing. Elizabeth had done exactly that until very recently, having spent her days endlessly cycling through a schedule of drinking, partying and investigating cases not for the money but the thrill of it. And though that seemed like an ideal fantasy, Jack couldn’t help but notice how deeply unhappy Elizabeth felt, with nothing to anchor her down. There. She’d exhausted all the options presented to her. She realised, then, that every single person in her life represented a path that she shouldn’t take; they were all illustrations of the wrong way to live. So… what was she? What was she an illustration of? What did she represent? The worst of humanity, she assumed. A cowardly, self-indulgent wreck who neither wanted to act or wanted to be irrelevant; someone who, because they knew they were living in a fiction, didn’t want to immerse themselves in the plot and yet didn’t want to exist outside of it either. She was indecisive, powerless and insecure. The strength that she’d known all her life had always been borrowed, if not from her past self then from the Ashwoods’ coffers. She was, in a word, pathetic; a Mary Sue stuck in the body of a real person, condemned to live in a world which did not cater to her like she was an infant.

So be it. Her confused, discordant thoughts suddenly coalesced into one undeniable solution: spite. ”Fuck you. I’ll be your god damn puppy, and I’ll enjoy myself while I’m at it.” Keep going, she told herself. Keep going, and deny them the satisfaction of seeing her break. She raised herself up and cooled down her hands. She didn’t need the other one any more: it was no longer that one’s story. She knew that logically speaking, she couldn’t land a hit on either the horse or Berith; both of them were not only faster and stronger than her but also formed from rocks, which she had nowhere near the strength needed to shatter. However, she still had a few flasks of alchemical Aqua Regia on her, which she had (rather smartly) decided to keep in a polystyrene lined steel flask, rather than in easily shattered glass bottles. The idea, however, wasn’t to come up with a logical plan but rather a dramatic one. Logic and the laws of physics weren’t the factors that were going to affect the outcome of this battle but rather the authors’ intent and desire for a good story. As long as she played into that, her victory was relatively assured. The domes that Berith erected after the destruction of the earthen wall were immediately suspicious; there were definitely other people in this room. In fact, it would’ve been kind of shocking if the Crimsonites hadn’t taken advantage of Berith’s overwhelming power and deployed more troops to take the group down. Surely, they hadn’t expected knife-wielding cultists and metal hooks to pose any real threat to them? But going after the mages was a bad idea. She’d certainly be overwhelmed, even killed on the spot. Elizabeth and Terry were coming up with a plan at that very moment; that much was clear to see. That left one dramatic course of action to pursue. She sprinted headlong into the molten storm surrounding Berith, climbing up a stone spire and leaping on him. She unstoppered her flask of solvent and doused his head in the cyan mixture, causing thick brown fumes to rise into the air as metal and stone began to boil and dissolve. She invited retaliation by doing so, of course, and so she used his shoulders as anchor points with which to flip into the air and land on his back, avoiding the trajectory of the metal ball which had been causing the group so much trouble. It was exceedingly obvious to her, and yet apparently not so to the rest of the group, that Berith could only really use it against people he could see, like how a sniper could only use their gun on people in their sights - as redundant as that sounded. She was out of explosive and decaying rounds, but she was well supplied with other kinds of ammunition. She coated Berith, point blank, with webbing, taking advantage of the fact that his body was covered in chains - and therefore easily tangled objects - to immobilise him. She became a wraith, weaving between the folds in his armour. He was fast, but she was able to read him almost instinctively. It was a killer instinct left over from her previous persona, she mused, while avoiding each of his hands, both of which were thrown at her simultaneously in an attempt to crush her; a very, very easily exploited mistake. As those two hands came together in the location where she had just been she webbed them together and grabbed one of the long chains on his body, leaping to the ground and tying it around a stalagmite. She covered that in web as well, just to be sure. Her goal wasn’t to take down the demon lord, since that was just an unrealistic fucking premise. Her plan was both to distract him long enough to allow Lizzy and Terry to get him on their side as well as to attract the attention of another combatant. She couldn’t actually hurt Berith, but she knew that she could definitely pierce the horse’s skin given a little acid to work with. If a mage went after her, that would be even better: humans were squishy and easy to knock down, making the summoners behind Berith and the horse her ideal targets.

The Great Wizarding Rebellion | Kiara and Polly

“This is a stupid fucking plan, Johann. And I didn’t release the anomalies! Are you seriously trying to bargain with us when all you have is a child? Think for a bloody fucking second, will you? If anyone wanted to stay behind for fear of retaliation, they would’ve gone back to their cells already! The people you’re talking to are the ones who took the initiative, not a bunch of apathetic drones just tagging along because they couldn’t think of anything better to do. Any ten of us could kick your ass: the kid included. It was a generous enough proposition to allow one of us to come to harm, since we’d effectively be trading our most expendable and easily intimidated member for not having to fight your little monster there - but ten? That's past pushing your luck, and it's more like hitting it with a train! You’re just a self righteous loon, an utter retard who managed to claw his way up to the top by sucking his superiors’ dicks and talking big, underdelivering and then managing to weasel his way out of it. I don’t think that I need to remind you that you were the one in charge of regional acquisitions, as well as for keeping this site secure. You think Circe’s going to let you go? What about Marshal? If you fight us, you make twenty enemies with no reason to keep you alive. If you let us go then at the very least, we won't have any grudges against you. There is no scenario where you come out with what you want, pencildick.” This was a balancing act. Go too far and Polly would attack, probably incapacitating the whole group. Say too little, and Johann would try to stop them, resulting in a fight. She had to convince him, or the girl, to back off. “Polly. Who do you want to be remembered by? Bureaucrats in their ivory towers toasting each other because they managed to bring you on board, or by your friends? And stop acting like working with AEGIS makes you an arbiter of truth. I tried to keep everyone else safe, but I only got released as the breach was winding down, and-... fuck me, I… Johann’s right, in my case. I am a hazard, but everyone else here has someplace that they belong. Maybe some of us are real hazards, but others - like Miria - just want to go home. You can’t just lock all the world’s evils in a box. AEGIS was a bad idea to begin with; a stopgap solution to an unsolvable problem.” Polly shook her head, lowering it so that she could only see the group’s feet. “Do it for your friends, at the very least. Are you really going to put Miria behind bars just to curry the fav-” ”Shut up! I know what you’re doing. As if I’d let you guilt trap me.” Polly was irritated, but not angry any more. ”I only stopped you to hear why none of you tried to save any one. Only a handful of you gave me a reasonable justification.” Johann froze, his eyes rolled up in their sockets and he collapsed a moment later. ”I have no clue what’s going on. The one thing I’m certain of, however, is that I don’t hold all the cards. I know that some of you need to be stopped - I won’t name names - but I also know that I couldn’t stop any of you. If I was to attack just one of you, everyone else would gang up on me.” Both Polly and Kiara were playing into game theory. In this case, the only logical decision that Johann could’ve made was to let the group go, since any other course of action would’ve undoubtedly resulted in Polly’s defeat, leaving him open to retaliation. His rage had gotten the better of him, which surprised Polly. She lowered her hands, voice quibbling. ”I don’t know who to believe, but… I’ll stick with AEGIS. I’ll be able to do more for you from within than without. But know this, too: I’m watching. And if any of you act out of line, I’ll fucking bury you.” Kiara chortled, breaking out into hysterical giggles. Ahuhu… h-holy crap...” She was sweating bullets and on the brink of bursting into tears. She was so unstable, so at a loss for words. The stress of watching people dying before her, the utter panic that’d seized her, had left its emotional mark. “Strong words. Strong words coming from the seven year old, but okay. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Last edited by Menschenfleisch on Fri Nov 08, 2019 7:25 am, edited 1 time in total.

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The Japanese Americans
Envoy
 
Posts: 344
Founded: Jun 24, 2018
Left-Leaning College State

Postby The Japanese Americans » Sat Nov 09, 2019 2:06 pm

TGWR
Lee
An AEGIS Base

Lee had absolutely no idea where all these people were coming from, nor what exactly was happening. Honestly, if he hadn't been to elven cities before, he would've freaked out by now. He was confused by what was going on, but he at least knew that this was basically a massive prison break and that there was a lot of magic residue everywhere. There were arguments galore, and he didn't understand most of them. He was also slowed down for some reason, something was trying to slow him down from the inside. Even worse, he felt incredibly irritated all over his body, like all his cells had an itch. On top of all that, something was restricting his magic. Grinning, he realized that if he learned the Telekinesis Skill he would be able to use it since it was more like a superpower instead of magic. He wouldn't even have to say Telekinesis out loud since it was also purely a mental power.

"Inventory." He grabbed the Skill Book and brought it out. When the System asked whether he wanted to learn it or not, he clicked 'Y', fully knowing that he would call attention to himself. As the book fragmented into brightly glowing scraps of energy, they fused with him, granting him with complete knowledge of the Skill and the ability to use said Skill. It also made him shine a bit. There. Now he would be able to defend himself some if things went bad, which seemed likely. Then it seemed that the conflict had died down for some reason now that some guy had fainted while Lee had been learning the Skill. Well, he had done that for seemingly nothing, as far as he could tell.
I'm an autistic 19 year old who used to read a library's worth of books.

Call me JA. It's easier than typing out Japanese Americans.

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Naval Monte
Postmaster-General
 
Posts: 13807
Founded: Sep 04, 2014
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Naval Monte » Sat Nov 09, 2019 3:21 pm

Secrets of the Raven
Devil's Pit Mines


The bolts of fire hit the demon lord's armor but as fiery sparks shot out from the impact the attack did little to harm him. Demonic resistance or in this case immunity to fire made the deflected attacks harmless to it. Berith was ready to swing his weapon once more but the demon lord soon saw a surprise challenger in the form of Jackie.

The demon lord was going to leave her last as she wasn't even involved in the fight until now. As the demon lord saw the girl leapt from the spire he sends out his weapon stop her, he even expected the molten storm to get her if his weapon didn't do the trick, an assumption that would be proven wrong. Despite the odds stacked against her Jackie manage to land on the demon lord, scurrying about him like a spider on crack as she began bob and weave into the folds of his armor.

The eyes floating around in the chamber widen when the demon lord felt the girl was on him and was inside his armor. The skull would surround itself in a fiery aura as it levitate, giving his other hand the freedom to search through his armor to find Jackie. As the demon tried to search for Jacquelyn it can feel something being applied to the chains. Just as it thrust two hands into its armor to get where it felt Jackie, however that proved to be a mistake as it felt something sticky being applied to its hands. Berith tried to pull out his hands but found that no matter how hard his pull his hands would not be released, he practically ignored the one chain tied around to a stalagmite and web it too.

From the air the horse saw its owner tied up and when it saw Jackie it threw its head back as it charge for its beam. The horse let out a loud nyah as it fired a beam of plasma at Jackie. As the superheated stream of plasma came down the former walking nuclear reactor would see a massive claw of fire suddenly appear from her point of view and block the attack. Looking at where the claw connected to she can see the almost demonic looking fire spirit that was bound to Mai. The college student herself having her burnt arm and side of her face burned up with intense flames due to unleashing her familiar. "Nice work there Jack. I didn't know you where part spider monkey though." She joked. 

"Looks like I was wrong about you. You can't fight worth shit but you still find other ways to save our sorry asses." The horse flew back as the fire spirit threw a large ball of plasma at it, causing it to hit the lower wall of the chamber instead once gravity forced it to fall back on the ground. With the battle raging none would notice that something moved beneath the ground where the fireball almost hit.

"You still got anymore of that web or was that your last supplies of the stuff?" Mai asked her. The fire starter would look up at the demon lord and would lunge for Jackie, grabbing her and pulling her away as the demon tried to fly after the two, being stuck in place by the trapped chain. "Just out of curiosity, how strong are those webs and how much heat they can take?" Mai asked as steam began to come off the demon lord as his temperature rose.

The two would suddenly hear a menagerie of different sounds coming from Elizabeth and Terry as multiple rifts appeared around them, all floating in the center of the magic circles made by her. "Bollocks, I hate showing off sometimes." She said in a hoarse and tired voice as though what she did was exhausting her. "But I hate disappointing my audience more than feeling like shit." She would move her hand forward, pointing at Berith. "You know the drill boys. Fuck him up!" She ordered, things emerging from the rifts.

All at once, a petrifying roster of esoteric, incomprehensible entities emerged from each one. From what Jackie and Mai saw, there was a dark blue, human-sized eagle that seemed to be composed of ice, some kind of colossal, demonic samurai with a flaming sword, a six-legged creature with large jagged blades jutting out of each corner of its body, a zombified gunslinger seemingly left over from the old west, carrying giant revolvers made out of writhing, grey flesh, and a ghoulish humanoid with 4 horns, 5 eyes, 6 arms, and a giant, glowing green eyeball on its torso, amongst many others.

Elizabeth sighed upon seeing the unsightly creatures that she summoned. "To think that all of my years of being a monster magnet would pay off." She almost fell to her knees but Terry caught her. "I think you should rest now Liz." The witch shook her head. "I'll rest once we free the demon lord and get the mage who summoned him." She looked towards the creatures she summoned as they surrounded the demon lord, smirking as the samurai raised his sword and sliced into his armor.

"Which shouldn't be too long after the mess I made. Wasn't expecting Jackie to jump in like that but that made things better. Now those sorry wankers have to come out to bail out their demons." She told Terry. The eagle flew after the horse as it fired off icicles like projectiles. From the wall a Saint worm with three heads, each connected to a humanoid torso with long skeletal arms with the head of eyeless canines began to sniff on the wall, leaving behind a coat of slime as it search for something.

Behind Elizabeth, floating inches from her, was a massive black rock with the frontal section cleaved off to show a reflective metal sheen, runic writing was visible on the mirror. Fused to the rock on the left side was a humanoid body seemingly made of marble with angelic wings found on his back and three rings attached to the right side of his face, the figure had six eyes and a nose but no mouth. Chains around the rock and the angelic creatures lower abdomen. There were many weapons embed on the back of the rock and from it a spear was being pulled out of the rock telekinetically, the sound of metal screaming against rock can be heard as well as metal being banged on as the horn creature pounded on the demon lord.

With the spear fully unsheath it would point the spear at its abdomen and stab itself with its own weapon. The creature made a strange sound as it pulled out it's spear, blood gushing out and falling on to Elizabeth and Terry. Terry tries to pull back from the blood fall but Elizabeth tried to keep him on the spot. From the spot the wound was bloody bubbles began to form and soon the wound began to heal. Down below the blood began to sink into their bodies and any injuries and feelings of fatigue would have vanished as well. 

"Much better. Now I can begin to break the binding curse." She exclaimed with a wide smile as she began to trace a magic circle with her knife, ignoring Terry's baffled look at what just occurred. "You are just going to pretend that the angel didn't bleed on us aren't you?" He sighed as he facepalm. "I don't know what I was expecting from you." He muttered as he reach down to grab her, pulling Elizabeth up as he let his tenebraes make the magic circle. It was a much faster effort.

Mai looked at the spectacle with surprise too, but not just because of the angel's antics. "Multi summoning! That midget can summon multiple creatures at once without spellnotes! I thought only thaumaturgical computers can do that!?" She exclaimed. She heard of how Elizabeth was a prodigy with magecraft but what she just pulled was something she had never heard the witch do before. Heck her mother never tried to do a similar stunt like her.

"Summoning multiple creatures at once without assistance isn't impossible but it isn't really worth it." Mai would be surprised to see Alex floating by her and Jackie's side. "Also she didn't do that without assistance. She had a couple of magic gems and spell notes prepared specifically to do that. But I'm guessing she hadn't had enough of them considering she had to use that angel to help restore her energy." 

Mai would ask Alex how long was she with them and why she was here. The lich shrugged. "I'm one of the few healers of this group so I'm here to check up on you two. I was going to help Lizzy but she seem to have things under control." Mai asked her about why the angel stabbed itself the lich will say. "Those types angels are infamous for being extremely dedicated to protecting their Summoners, even if it brings them harm. What it did was typical for its type." She explained in a monotone voice. 

From the air the horse was caught by a creature bellowing out thick plumes of black smoke that produced screaming faces; each taking on the form of either distorted human faces, demonic beasts, and grotesque aliens. Glowing patches of reddish orange light can be seen from the cloud, almost like something was burning within it. From the cloud  bulging eyes protrude out as well as monochrome tentacles that end in disturbingly human-like hands and white insectoid legs wrap themselves around the horse a the eagle began to scratch the horse, its scratches freezing the flesh of the horse. The eagle rip out chunk of its flesh.

Between Berith and Elizabeth was creature that look similar in form to a tree, having a stalk coming from the floor and two limbs/wings-like extremities that branch into minor parts. Its main body is of red color. In the junction where the three main parts meet, it has a yellow eye with a red iris, as well as smaller eyes on other parts of its body. The creature did nothing as the demon lord looked at it. 

As Berith took out his two eyes to shoot at the summons the eyes were immediately fired upon by the cowboy while other monsters kept attacking the demon lord. Earthen spikes grew round Berith and stabbed him. The tree like creature would send out thorny branches out to stab the demon like it sent out a barrage of spears at it, each stab doing both physical and mental damage.

The canine worm would stop in track from it's search as it began to howl, letting its owner know it discover something. The canine began to dig in the wall. As pieces of rock fell from the wall a streaming chains ending in serrated spears came out from the wall, tearing through the worm as they went down to Elizabeth, only to be intercepted by the angel who took the blow for her. The angel let out a moan as the chain retracted back, taking chunks from its marble like flesh, and tearing more pieces from the worm as it fell on the ground. The body began to violently seize and thrash as the three torso heads fell off, feelers bursting out from the gaping hole as a massive maw filled with razor sharp teeth and a ring of black eyes came out. 

The cloud monster would burst into flames, the creature screaming in agony as it let go of the horse as the eagle bite hard one of its wings, breaking a bone. The creature glide down with its single good wing but it walked with a limp as the right front leg was broken. From the ceiling stalagmite began to fall down, the cloud monster and worm both being impaled by the falling rock while the other creatures dodged it along with the others from the ground, though Alex simply used her powers to make the stalagmite fall away from Jackie and Mai.

Yet while that one issue was dealt with a new one would appear as a black cloud appeared in front of Jackie, Mai, and Alex. The former firebrand and the current one would both begin to spin as their bodies twist into the ground, stopping until only their heads were visible. Alex looked at the two but soon would feel her body freeze as another paralyze hit her. From the smoke a black robed individual emerge carrying a crossbow with a revolver chamber and retractable bayonet blade attached to the weapon.

"That stunt you and Ashwood pulled threw off our plans slightly firebrand but that isn't going to be enough to stop us." He told her as he pulled on a lever, pulling out the blade. "Andarta needed you for the ritual but I think she might find using your soul for it would be easier to work with." He aims the blade at her forehead and was going to plunge down to end Jackie's life when a spectral fist punch the mage from the side, suddenly him flying. Looking to where the fist came from they would see a distorted gorilla-like creature with overly large arms and many ghostly arms on it's back. The two would feel the ground beginning to spit them out as their bodies spun again until they were released.

Mai began to stretch her body as she was glad to be free. She turns to face the mage who trapped her and Jackie, the man held his crossbow at his other arm as the other hang limply by his side. He would aim and fire a bolt at Mai who she simply set on fire, causing the projectile to explode. Mai shielded herself from the blast with her elemental spirit blocking it from her. With the mage he teleport it by Alex's side. He took out an amulet and began to chant.

Alex tried to break free from the spell he had her on but she felt her body moving against her will, her hands turning into claws as sparks moved between them. She would aim at both Mai and Jackie, the sparks now growing in intensity. Alex would scream out for them to dodge before lightening fired out from her hands. The first bolts manage to strike Mai on the back before she had a chance to dodge, making her fall face first on the ground. 

Should Jackie dodge the first strike she would see Alex preparing another one for her as she fired another lightening bolt at Celeste. From behind the mage Terry's tenebraes tried to stab the mage with shadowy tendrils and Wei' demonic arms tried to grab him but a barrier kept them away from the mage. A new golem grew from the ground and it began to join the battle. 

From the ground below Dawn more chains came out bd following them was another mage who wore a gauntlet producing crimson sparks. The mage grab the chains and the electricity traveled from them and to Dawn, electrocuting her. The voltage would be enough to burn most people and boil the fluids inside the human body. More dark appeared as demonic looking swords suspended in the air appeared, being held by translucent robed figure. Berith's eyes were glowing when they appeared. The demonic swordsmen flew to the twins, Rolo, the three mages on the golem, and finally towards Jackie and Elizabeth.



The Great Wizarding Rebellion

Gunshots rang out as Jin took out a massive lycanthrope with his twin machine pistols. The immortal was dressed in the new battle armor made during the war against the First Order and Venom. It consisted of a few plates of graphene and carbon fiber to cover parts of the body like the forearm, elbow, and bicep, a similar arrangement to the legs, followed by torso plates and a helmet followed by visits and a gas mask. There was even plates covering the back of his hand and his boots. Jin's armor also came with a pauldron and half a kilt, the front side being exposed to give his legs the freedom to move. His helmet had both a camera attached and attendees for better communication and sensory capabilities. 

The armor had a pack attached to his back and while he wore the traditional uniform behind the armor he also wore a nano weave bodysuit behind it. Rounding out are exoskeleton frames, a special feature made for him due to his rank. However the others wearing the armor also had the exosuit frames as the task force they were a part of required it. As members of MST Nova Hammer this containment breach was why they were made, to stop it before it can get any worse.

"How close are we to the director Athena?" He asked as he and the others ran down the hall. In the way they saw zombies dressed as Confederate soldiers, Jin and the others shot them in the head before the zombies can open fire on them. "Just take the elevator up or down the stairs to the floor above you and the left followed by right. Go straight and then take a hard right, go past three halls and take another right and you will reach the director. Be aware that he isn't alone. Polly is with him but they are surrounded by Madison and her team as well as a few escaped anomalies." Jin thanked the Oracle as he follow through her directions.

After blasting several malfunctioning combat droids he led his team to the stairs, taking out a giant spider with the head of an old man who was sucking the fluids out of an intern who unfortunately was caught by his web, they made to the exit where they made their way through the hall. Using the Psi-Link function within their helmet they communicate telepathically and the Siren-VIs they used the Augmented Reality functions in this visors to see a layout of the base. A few broke off from the main group to flank the enemy group.

By the time they reached the hall were the director was they stopped so as not to be spotted. They waited until the other team was in position to strike with them. One of the team members released a nano dust cloud from a canister to see ahead. The group saw that Johann was down on the ground and saw the ground that surround him. 
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Demincia
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Postby Demincia » Sat Nov 09, 2019 4:43 pm

Secrets of the Raven
Devil's Pit Mine
Dawn and Celeste Elissa


Even with chains around her body, Dawn managed to shrug. "Really? This is the best you could come up with?" she asked. She grabbed one of the chains with her free hand and yanked on it with the strength of a god to pull the mage on the other end towards her. "Get over here." she said. The electricity coursing through her should have been cooking her alive, but didn't seem to be bothered by it in the slightest.

Celeste turned and glared towards Alex after being struck. A rift opened right behind the mage and Celeste thrust her hand forward, forcing the lich into it. Luckily, the Primordial was at least kind enough to provide breathable air in the otherwise empty void she'd created. The rift closed up in an instant. "That problem will have to wait, more pressing ones are at hand." she said.

The Spacecrafter waved one hand at the line of swordsmen and a rift opened up on either side of the lineup. Suddenly a loud horn sounded as a freight train appeared from one rift and sped across into the opposite one, right through the line of demons. Once the train passed through, the rifts closed.

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Naval Monte
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Postby Naval Monte » Sat Nov 09, 2019 5:21 pm

Demincia wrote:---


Alex looked at Celeste with fear once she saw that her attack made contact. The lich can feel the rift forming behind her and she let out a yell as she was sent back. The other mage growl once he saw that he was now absent a lich. He would command the spectral swordsmen to strike at Celeste but he would lose a large number of them by a train that plowed through them. "What the fuck was that? I call hax on that!" He complained before dodging a fireball from Mai.

"Oh it's fair for you to summon a demon lord on us but we can't use divine intervention? Yes I can see how we are cheating." The girl said sardonically as her spirit unleash a wave of fire towards the mage to which he would be protected by the barrier. The mage would fire another bolt which this time Mai left alone encase it was an explosive dart but she unfortunately gave him the chance to teleport.

The mage pulled back from Dawn as he took out a jewel, muttering an incantation as a stream of fire pour out like a flamethrower to incinerate the goddess. More of the hooded swordsmen would fly towards Dawn to stab her while the others still fought Celeste.
Last edited by Naval Monte on Sat Nov 09, 2019 5:22 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Demincia
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Postby Demincia » Sat Nov 09, 2019 5:37 pm

Secrets of the Raven
Devil's Pit Mine
Dawn and Celeste Elissa


Dawn appeared behind the mage and grabbed his shoulder. "You're really starting to get on my nerves, much more of that and I might actually get angry." she said. She spun him around to face her, and when their eyes met they weren't in the mine anymore. They seemed to be standing the the tropics judging by the temperature, but the plant life was totally unrecognizable.

"Have you ever been to America?" she asked, looking around. "Not that you could have ever seen it like this." she added immediately after. "This is the Morrison Formation, or at least it will be in 150 million years. Unfortunately you won't live to see it." she pushed him forward and caused him to stumble into a large pile of dirt, rocks and ferns. In the middle of the pile were several large eggs. Just as the man would lay eyes on them, a growl from behind would send a shiver down his spine. "You're trespassing, and mama isn't happy." Dawn said before disappearing. The man turned around to see an Allosaurus staring him down for touching his eggs. In the moments before he died, he could at least know he's the only human that could answer the question on what a dinosaur really looked like.


Celeste wasn't nearly as dramatic as her sister though, she preferred to dispatch her foes much more quickly and with less grandstanding. She simply cast them into the galactic core without any speech, no pomp and circumstance, and certainly no explanation. Dawn reappeared at her side, and shook her head. "So much anger built up, you'd be wise to give up before she releases some of it." she cautioned to the mage.

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Naval Monte
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Postby Naval Monte » Sat Nov 09, 2019 8:24 pm

Demincia wrote:...


With the death of the mage Dawn would suddenly be consumed by flames and encased in an Earthy prison. Celeste would feel her body freezing from her neck below follow by having all the air in her body being sucked out. Four mages would come out, each wearing gauntlets imbued by their chosen element. "That was for our brother you false goddesses!" The woman using the water gauntlet spat out. 


From the three entrances three more mages appear, from the center was the one that tried attack Jackie. The mage from the left tunnel commanded the golem to continue on its fight against Elizabeth's summons as the right one was chanting a spell along with the center mage who appeared to be chanting a command to Berith.
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Demincia
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Postby Demincia » Sat Nov 09, 2019 8:49 pm

Secrets of the Raven
Devil's Pit Mine
Dawn and Celeste Elissa


Dawn stepped in line with the mages from behind. "Man, I bet whoever's in there is having a bad time." she said looking at the dirt coffin. She looked at the mages. "Hold on, weren't there four of you a second ago?" she asked, then looked back at the prison. "Wait, if I'm out here, does that mean one of you is... Huh. What a way to go." She looked at the other side of the line of mages and Celeste stepped out of a rift, completely unharmed. "How nice of you to join us." she added.

"You don't honestly think you have a chance of making it out of this alive, do you?" Celeste asked, gripping her hammer to swing again.

"It doesn't matter what they think, it doesn't change the future. Overconfidence is a flimsy shield." Dawn said, leaning against her scythe.

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Postby Rostavykhan » Sun Nov 10, 2019 10:23 am

The Great Wizarding Rebellion
Miria


"Whoa, is he okay?", Miria asked, taken aback by Johann's sudden fainting. She stepped back to give him some space. For a moment, she was tempted to check to see if she could help with anything, but she already had her dragonflies to handle. Besides, he was kind of blocking their path, and even if she didn't want to see the guy get hurt, she didn't think they had the time to go helping him out, especially since he would probably try to stop them again the moment he regained consciousness.

It sucked; Miria sort of maybe understood how the guy felt, it it was stress or fatigue. His ass was on the line because of them, apparently. Miria still felt sick and dizzy from her own breakdown earlier. He had her sympathy, but...she would have to feel bad about it later.

Miria shook her head, the dim light gleaming off of her glasses. "This isn't good; if someone sees him knocked out, they might think we did this! Um...um...we should run!", She said, nodding eagerly. She began to bounce up and down, nervous. "Come on! Madi? Polly? I don't think it's a good idea to stay put any longer. I don't want to leave the guy here, but our first priority should really be to get out of here without being hounded by any more AEGIS people. I say we take the chance we have now. No fighting, and no picking who leaves and who stays!"
LEARN TO HATE ; TOTAL HATRED FOR TOTAL WAR
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Naval Monte
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Postby Naval Monte » Sun Nov 10, 2019 4:14 pm

Demincia wrote:---


When the mage in charge of the others was done with his chant he would he would give the group a sadistic grin was the demon lord's eyes began to glow. Berith began to channel his demonic power to pull forth something from the Infernus.

Berith would be forced to summon a group of demons to the fight. The ground tumor as cracks form until the earth split open to unleash fire. From the flaming pits hands grip the ground and pulled up several bodies from the holes. Once the figures were pulled up the holes began to close on their own.

The figures wearing black cloaks with their heads covered by an iron helmet with plastic pipes connected to the back and thin bladed horns facing forward to the side, the face if the helmets had demonic grinning faces etched into them.

From their thin fingers they held different weapons, most being scimitars. "Shit, Desprayes." The twins would hear Wei shout. The demons moved swiftly around the battlefield, almost like black streaks as they charge towards the twins, Mai, Rolo, and the golem trio. On the golem Wei was doing some sort of meditation ritual while Theo ordered his golem to sway out of attacks and attempts to climb ut while attacking the demons.

Yet his efforts would still live an opening for one Despraye to jump up and land on the golem, the demon landed in front of Wei. It would raise it's blade to strike down the mage and it did so Richard tried to warn his comrade but the blood mage refuse to budge out of his meditation. As the blade came down time felt as though it was slowing Dawn to a crawl for Richard as he was reaching for a vial containing a creature he washing to save for later but now needs to use to save Wei.

But the action would not be needed as Wei suddenly caught the blade between the palms of his hands. The demon was stunt by the action but it's surprise would increase as he turn his hands and broke the blade in half, where he would then plunge the blade straight into its mouth and through its head. The demon walked back as it gurgled from the blood pooling in its throat, dropping the handle of  its sword. Wei would plant his foot on its chest and kick the demon off the golem. 

Richard can see from his angle that Wei's muscles not only appeared to be bulging out and tense but on the back of his neck grotesque and bulging black veins can be seen. When the mage turn not only did he see more of the black veins on Wei's face but his eyes rolled back to reveal white orbs. "I will distract these demons. You guys get up on the ceilings now." Before any of the two can stop him the sorcerer jump off the golem.

He would take a few steps away from the golem when his enhanced eyes saw a demon running towards. The mage would thrust his hands and left foot out, the former grabbing the demon by the wrists while his foot tripped up the demon. He would have the demon rest on his back before flipping it over and on it's back on the ground before delivering a powerful fist 9n to it's helmet, creating a very noticeable dent as he knocks it out.

Grabbing on to its sword the man would display superhuman speed and reflex as he not only quickly manage to intercept another slash from another Despraye but inhuman strength to stand his ground. These sudden inhuman abilities would aid him as he mixed his sword based martial arts to fight against the Desprayes that came after him and the other two while Theo and Richard began to go up the wall to avoid the demons

As Wei fought against his demonic combatants several Desprayes ran towards Dawn in order to stab her at the sides. Celeste would be surrounded as different Desprayes aim from all sides of her. In truth the many Desprayes they had after them where one, they used their speed and magic to creat copies to try and confuse them.

The mages on the other hand realize that the one who was trapped in the coffin was the firebrand. Normally he would have perished but he wasn't an ordinary human back in life, he had an anomalous property that was waiting for the right occasion to awaken and Dawn put him in the right condition to awaken said property.

As the other mages cursed the two goddess for yet the lost of another family member, the coffin began to melt as fire burst out from the cracks. The group would see a growing humanoid figure of fire from where the mage stood as the coffin melt and crumbled into a molten mess.

The more he grew the more the chamber's temperature grew and the more oxygen he began to steal from everyone else. The wind mage created a dome of air for the others while the water mage made it cold to protect them from the heat. The earth mage Mace Dawn and Celeste's feet sink into the ground so they will be killed by either the Desprayes or by the fire.

Mai would unleash a dome of fire to try and stop the Desprayes but would find they are immune to fire. She would dodge but would scream in pain as her arm was cut off. She would turn around and began to run as her fire spirit punch the demon away. Another tried to chase her but it would be struck by lightning from Rolo who manage to use a rune to make the blades of the demons bounce off his hardened skin. The runesmith would punch the demons helmet and he would dent it on the face, forcing it to take a step back before he planted his foot on its chest and kick it off its feet.

Once the demon fell on its back he would strike it's chest with his hammer, unleashing a burst of electricity on it. He would deliver a second strike but he quickly moved his hammer to intercept the blade of another despray. Wei was keeping the ones on him and the other two mages busy with the demonic arms, even though the demons were cutting through them.

Terry was protecting himself and Elizabeth from the Desprayes while Jackie had the gorilla who not only caught one with its ghostly hand but was now beginning to beat the demon with all of its fist, both the physical and spectral.

Yet that distractions was all one Despraye needed to dash towards the former firebrand with its sword, ready to cleave her head off.
Last edited by Naval Monte on Sun Nov 10, 2019 5:19 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Naval Monte- The Mediterranean crossroads of mind-controlling conspiracies, twisted dimensions, inhuman depravity, questionable science, unholy commerce, heretical faiths, absurd politics, and cutting-edge art.

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Demincia
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Postby Demincia » Sun Nov 10, 2019 6:58 pm

Secrets of the Raven
Devil's Pit Mine
Dawn and Celeste Elissa


"You're as persistent as you are stupid, I'll give you that." Dawn said as the mages kept attacking them. "It seems you can't figure out that you can't hurt us." She looked over at the newly emerged fire mage. "Get rid of him please, Spacecrafter." she asked.

A rift opened up behind the mage and Celeste thrust her hand forward again, launching him into a different reality. "I told you mortals never learn. You'd think they'd be more cautious, given how easy they are to break."

Dawn didn't respond but looked down just before the earth swallowed her legs. "You can't honestly think that would work." she sad before vanishing again. She reappeared next to the earth mage and lifted him up by his neck. She didn't even look at him as he rapidly began to age backwards in her grip, shrinking back to a child then infant and fetus until he disappeared entirely. "And just like that, he was never born." Dawn said to the two mages still alive. "You really should give up." She glanced over at the others in her group and rolled her eyes.

She appeared behind Mai and grabbed her shoulder with one arm. "Hold still." she said firmly and jabbed her severed arm back in place and the wound began to close. "Do you feel like we're babysitting?" she called behind her.

"Generous of you to call them babies." Celeste answered, looking at the demons around her. "I'd say more like insects, because they're easy to squash." she raised one hand suddenly, and the ground beneath the wind mage erupted upward, slamming into the ceiling.

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Menschenfleisch
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Postby Menschenfleisch » Mon Nov 11, 2019 1:00 am

Secrets of the Raven | Jacquelyn

In spite of Berith's overwhelming strength and surprising speed (for something of his size), Jackie's webs appeared to be more than a match for him. His hands, now stuck inside his own body (which she imagined to feel quite uncomfortable, even for an entity as eldritch and unflappable as the demon lord) were no longer able to fend off the rest of the team's attacks. She felt kind of bad for him, knowing that he didn't actually want to fight them. However, inevitably, she ran out of web and was forced to disengage. She still had a significant stock of frost, shock, tranq, fire and tagging rounds but she didn't see how they would help her deal with the demon. She'd exposed her webs to various physical tests and so she knew a few key details about them. When exposed to low temperatures, they hardened and became brittle, which would allow Berith to shatter and escape from them. They were resistant to fire but fell apart when heated to exceptional temperatures. Perhaps she should've used metal cable rather than hemp when she'd manufactured them? Bah, it was too late to be regretting past decisions now. Incoming! The stone horse coughed up a beam of white gas at her: about three thousand five hundred degrees Kelvin, if her estimates were right. She felt a pang of shame whenever she used a skill inherited from her predecessor, since she knew that she hadn't earned that instinct, so she tried to avoid doing so as much as possible; every now and then, though, a random thought would occur to her out of the blue. She readied a frost round, doing some quick math in her head. The plasma bolt would have a greater surface area and temperature – and therefore it would radiate more heat – if she hit it late in its flight path but if she allowed it to come too close to her the concussive blast produced by the sudden interaction between two regions of extremely different temperatures would, at the very least, burst all the capillaries in her nose and perforate her lungs with holes. She didn't know what the specific heat capacity of the plasma bolt was but assuming that it was formed out of nitrogen, two frost darts would be enough to cool it down to a nonlethal temperature. She was just about to pull the trigger when something else came between her and the bolt; a pyre of flame as massive as a bus and built like a brick shithouse. Mai was a lucky girl, having access to such a buff fire elemental. The creature caught the beam in its hand, causing the back of its wrist to bulge like there was a snake coiling around beneath its skin. It drank all of the projectile's heat up, causing its arm to visibly swell. So, it was an Emissary-esque entity, was it? To be quite honest, Jack was a little miffed by being saved: she'd done all that math for nothing.

Jacquelyn turned her head to face Mai, her ostensible saviour, whose arm and face were covered in burns; ridges and lumps of skin formed when molten deposits of fat cooled and when one's muscles atrophied in the aftermath of severe damage. She flinched, every inch of her body stiffening, before she got over her fear and stood up straight. The cavern rattled and trembled beneath her feet, shaken by great explosions and impacts. Jack had to be shout to be heard over the din; ”I didn't know either. I expected to end up as a red smear.” A sizeable clayfall came down upon them, showering their clothes and hair with powdered stone. ”Good to see ya, though.” She half-heartedly scowled at Mai's compliment; ”Oh come on, I tied up one guy. Keep calling me out for my bullshit, sis! God knows that I need it.” She took a moment to check her stock of ammunition. ”Hmm... outta heavy hitting stuff. No web, either. It's not as if I'm totally out, though. I've got a ton of miscellaneous garbage; generic reagents, healing potions, et cetera.” Jackie prepared to defend herself when Mai lunged at her, only to realise that the girl had knocked her out of Berith's reach. The webbing around his body was quite flexible, if difficult to break, meaning that there was quite a lot of give; the pyro had really saved her life there. The two of them landed on the floor quite hard, though Mai took the brunt of the impact. Though, her clothes were rather heavily fortified, whether with magic or technology; she was a little scuffed, sure, but not injured by any means. Jackie leapt to her feet, taking in her surroundings as she spoke. ”The webs aren't exactly built to stand up to volcanic temperatures. I expected to be roping together collapsing rope bridges or pinning down attack dogs, not double-binding demon lords!” The cave was filled up with little stony formations and rock dunes, preventing Jack from looking very far. Each and every location that she couldn't see was potentially the home of an enemy; she had to keep her wits about her regardless of where she was and who was with her. After all, her story-relevant companions couldn't be expected to do everything for her, right? She was legitimately resentful of the way that Mai praised her, though. It felt unearned, like the authors were patronising her for doing something that hadn't really required any bravery or strength on her part: merely skill and instinct. How was being undeservedly strong worthy of anyone's praise? Although, she had to admit that she'd technically proven Mai wrong: the whole reason that the girl had told her to stay behind at the mansion was because she believed that Jacquelyn was going to prove to be a liability.

Just as Jack was about to engage the horse, having decided that using any of her current darts against Berith would only prove to be counterproductive, Elizabeth called everyone's attention to her with the summoning of a veritable menagerie of strange and eclectic entities, each more kooky than the last. There was the giant samurai, with red ethereal armour off of which crimson mist rolled as if their armour was made of tinted dry-ice; it moved quickly, far more so than a thing of its size could be expected to move, and swung its sword with both finesse and precision. At last, Jack thought. A giant which wasn't depicted as slow and clumsy! There was also the ice eagle, which rather reminded her of Pet Shop from Jojo's Bizarre Adventure. She really was some thirsty weeb's wet dream, wasn't she? A strong bricc gamer girl with an interest in anime: she felt at once reviled and amused. ”Fckn weeb. I'm even less accessible than a 2D girl: there's literally no artwork out there of me, voice acting, or anything.” Oh, if only she knew about Tataia. Her blood curdled in her veins when she looked upon the gunslinger who had maggots in place of eyelashes and grey, blotched lumps of soggy porridge hanging from his hands rather than fingers (how did he fire his guns with such malformed digits?); his appearance killed the mood faster than her predecessor had killed the narrative tension. There were bloody dozens of the things, presumably not loyal to Liz but rather bound, bought or outright feral. They gave Berith a hard time, but knowing the tropes of the narrative, he wouldn't be defeated by a bunch of extras: a protagonist would have to free him - that was the only logical conclusion to the fight, considering how the authors had set it up. Then again, the emergence of a plot twist remained a possibility, however unlikely it seemed; the person writing her arc was a bit of a hack by her estimation. What was she supposed to be, a kickbucket to be punished for possessing traits that hadn't been hers to choose in the first place? She honestly didn't know whether she was supposed to be a lampooning of typical Mary Sues and fetishised female characters or if she was both of those things being played straight. Was her author a smelly, decrepit middle-aged bastard trying to escape reality, or were they a self-indulgent and pretentious solipsist trying to write an unwanted and irrelevant commentary on imaginary, unimportant problems? Regardless, she found them contemptible.

Jackie suddenly found herself dizzy and burried up to her head: the packed earth around her pressed down on her with an excessive pressure, squeezing the air from her lungs and pinning her arms to her side. She snarled and tried to shake herself free, only succeeding in shifting her head about a bit. Seriously, what kind of ass-pull overpowered ability was this?! If Diana had been able to do this she would've fucking annihilated Kyle, no doubt about it. She hardly even registered who her attacker was, and she hadn't even noticed that a stalagmite had come within a few metres of impaling her earlier. There was a black cloud before her, swirling and moaning. A grizzled man stepped through the dark mist. He had black boots and pants, and his upper body was entirely covered by a similarly midnight-shaded cloak. ”Holy shit,” She remarked. ”Don't go tripping over now; you might cut yourself on all that edge.” She honestly wasn't sure what to do other than stall and wait at this point; she had no access to her arms or any of her weapons. She was, essentially, a talking flower. ”What the fuck are you on, mate? I thought we already established that I don't have a soul – or at least, Mephistopheles didn't want mine. Besides, didn't she want my flesh, and not me? Ah fuck, what do I know? I'm just an archetypical clueless protagonist.” He raised the crossbow above her head, the tip of the bayonet shining wickedly. Already, she could feel a spectral pain building on the crown of her head where she expected him to strike her. She squeezed her eyes shut, apprehension beginning to overtake her. Help arrived in the form of a massive ghostly gorilla, whose arm was completely overgrown with dozens of individual arms: some ape-like, some petite and human. What was that thing, a... gorilla spider? Sporilla? Gorider? She spun around like a corkscrew, bursting out of the ground and immediately falling over, folding her hands over her mouth so as not to throw up. ”Is the spinny bit really necessary?” She muttered, wiping spit from the corner of her mouth. Who'd pulled them out, anyhow? She assumed that the mage's death (she'd heard the telltale squelch and pop of someone's spine detaching from their brain stem as he'd fallen down) wouldn't have resulted in her and Mai being released, but again; who was she to question how this world's magic system worked? The dust in the air stung her eyes, forcing her to squint: in doing so, she nearly missed Alex, who launched bolts of lightning at the two of them while they were still on the ground. Jack, who was significantly more athletic than Mai, due to a mixture of her predecessor's exercise routine and her genes (neither of which were a result of her actually putting any effort into maintaining her fitness), rolled to one side. She didn't do so in order to dodge Alex's attack – the witch's controller wasn't that slow to react, and Jack could only make it so far – but instead in order to allow her to reach into her pocket and pull out an iron knife, the blade of which she oriented toward the bolt. The weapon drank up the lightning blast, turning red, then yellow, and then finally bursting and spraying incandescent shrapnel in all directions. The hilt of the weapon kept much of it from hitting Jacquelyn but a few shards fell upon her clothes nonetheless, forcing her to leap to her feet and tear off her jacket, throwing it on the ground as fires broke out all over its surface. That had been a very, very close call. Mai, who'd been in the business of fighting mages like Alex for years, had been knocked flat on her face by the attack. Jack knelt beside her, weaving her arm under the firebrand's elbow and standing her up, trying to carry her to safety. ”C'mon, extra. You're coming with me.” Mai's life was legitimately in jeopardy here, since she was but a minor side character; that meant that she was expendable, or even intended to die in order to up the tension of the scene. For once, she felt as if something was at stake.

Jacquelyn ducked behind a crescent shaped formation of stalagmites, keeping herself out of Berith's sight. The ground here was damp and thick with purple moss, so thick that it felt like she was walking across a blanket or a forest floor. She laid Mai down against a stone pillar and unstoppered a healing flask; ”I'm not actually sure this'll do anything, since it's supposed to heal surface wounds only. Can't do any harm, though.” She slowly tipped it into Mai's mouth; the pyro wasn't unconscious but she was dazed and only just regaining her motor functions. There were lightning burns on her neck, adding to the maze of burns already present all over her body. They faded as she suckled on the bottle, but they did not disappear. The potion could help her body replace destroyed tissues but it couldn't fix damaged cells, mental defects or cardiac arrhythmia. A faint whistle in her left ear alerted her to the approach of something, though she didn't know what. Something flitted into the alcove, appearing briefly in her periphery, and she had just enough time to turn and spot her adversary; a floating red sword formed from jagged obsidian. Its edge was slick and puffy, like flesh, and she watched as it oriented itself toward her and dived straight toward her heart. She didn't have the skill nor the reflexes to catch the blade and thus she simply leapt to one side. The sword overshot, but still managed to adjust its trajectory enough to tear through Jacquelyn's abdomen, leaving a thick gash on the side of her torso, just beneath the armpit. She almost collapsed as a wave of malaise and exhaustion ran through her. Lifting the fabric to glance at the wound, she noticed that it wasn't bleeding at all. In fact, it was dry and crispy: like paper. The sword hovered some number of metres away: its blade was painted with her blood, far too much to have been plausibly drawn from the wound. Its edge expanded as it drank up her blood, causing tumorous growths to spread across the surface of the weapon. The sword, now, had a hilt covered in bits of bone and wrapped in what appeared to be dry skin. Its blade was still largely obsidian, but it had stretchy webbing all over it. Tiny toothlike formations sprouted from its pommel and tip, and a cluster of eyes sprouted from its hilt. There were dozens of them, all packed together into a sphere about as wide as a tennis ball. They stared her down, each iris adopting a different, constantly changing colour. She would've called it beautiful, if its depravity weren't so apparent. It shook, as if to suggest laughter, and sprung at her again. Jacquelyn tried to reach for her last remaining weapon, a pocket knife she'd packed for sawing through hemp and fabric, only to realise that her hand wouldn't respond to her commands. That was the arm on the side of her body which the sword had cut; it was utterly paralyzed. All she could do was make her fingers twitch and even then it felt weak and delayed. She saw her reflection in the surface of the sword: she was pale as a sheet. Just one glancing blow from that thing had left her almost unable to move. If it were to lodge in her, she would surely die. Her left hand shot to her right and lifted it up, operating her dartgun manually so that she could shoot a flaming phial in the direction of the blade. Burning turpentine spilled over it, conflagrating and producing pale, acrid fumes. Though it stripped the flesh from its body and caused its eyes to burst, spilling transparent humours on the ground, the attack did nothing to stop its flight. In fact, if anything, the sword seemed even angrier now. Having seen her initial gambit fail, Jackie dropped her arm and pulled the flask of Aqua Regia from her pocket, intending to force the sword to plunge into it and dissolve itself. However, rather than trying to impale her, the sword diverted itself at the last second and curved straight toward Mai, who was still unable to defend herself. The girl tried to summon a flaming defence, but Jack already knew that it wouldn't work: this sword had survived exposure to the platonic concept of burning itself; she wondered whether she would've been able to destroy it through heat alone even in her heyday. She panicked, dropping the flask and desperately searching for some other alternative.

So neither fire nor flesh could hold the thing back. What, then, could stop it? It was a last ditch gamble, and a terrible stupid one at that, but Jacquelyn lobbed all her flasks of healing fluid at the ground beneath the sword. It shattered on a tiny nodule of rock, spilling the bottle's contents over the moss below. The mass writhed and exploded upwards, growing faster than Jack's eyes could track them The sword's blade plunged into the sudden thicket, becoming entangled in vines and grassy fur. The tip of its blade was but an inch from Mai's face before it came to a halt. At that point, everything but its pommel had been completely covered in plant matter; it was well and truly entangled, though that didn't stop it from thrashing around in an attempt to escape. Apparently, the sword lacked the ability to assimilate plant life, which... come to think of it, could've easily not been the case, at which point Jackie would've well and truly screwed the pooch. Oh well. Luck was luck, she supposed. She drew the sword from the mound of moss, holding it in place with both hands. The sword was capable of moving itself around at great speeds but its impressive mobility owed to its lightweight construction and not its strength. She was able to control it with some difficulty and soon she had it wedged between two rocks, whereupon she prepared to snap it into pieces. However, before she was able to do so, its hilt collapsed and formed a dozen saw-toothed mouths. She dropped it at once, but not before they'd latched onto her hand, digging into the flesh of her fingers. She resisted the urge to drop the blade, however, and instead she forced her hand deep into one of the mouths: so far that it was no longer able to bite down. She grabbed its tongue, preventing it from moving away. She reached for her alchemical acid, only to realise that her other arm was still paralyzed; she'd essentially just fed the damn thing her only good limb. The blade dissolved and turned into a fleshy worm that engulfed her limb up to the elbow, steadily picking her apart. Its teeth slid up the length of her body, slowly approaching her shoulder. It didn't bite particularly hard or deep, but the inside of its body was covered in rings of sharp, barbed teeth. She could neither pull it off or kill it, for fear of stabbing herself. Its skin was spongy and had a lot of give: she tried to bludgeon it by slamming her arm into a jagged piece of rock but all she did was bruise herself and leave an insignificant dent in the thing's body. She could feel her skin being peeled off; her arm, beneath the thing's flesh, was already dessicated and powerless. She was left with only two good limbs: her legs. What was she going to do with those fucking things, though? Nudge the monster to death? She screamed, openly and loudly, as it rendered her arm into little fibrous pieces. She could hardly even stand now; she could only just wriggle along the ground. It was so heavy, and she was so tired...

The flask! She'd dropped it earlier! Jacquelyn's head swivelled toward it. Would it be enough to kill this thing off, though? It was already creeping over her shoulder and digging into her shoulder plate. The sensation was agonising, like sandpaper was being scraped over her bones while razors were used to pick bits off of her. She clenched her teeth until her gums began to weep a thin, sickly trickle of blood. Her heartbeat grew faster by the moment. Her body lacked the necessary blood to keep her alive: any moment now she'd fall unconscious, and the thing would consume her utterly. She realised that she was afraid. But, afraid of what? Surely, she couldn't die. Death was an impossibility, a faraway concern that she'd never had to trifle with. Death? Ha! She was the protagonist! She couldn't die. They wouldn't let her die, would they? Surely not. But as her thoughts grew murky and oxygen deprived, her fears grew more extreme and illogical. Maybe this was it. Maybe the authors had switched gears and were killing her off for the sake of the narrative. Maybe her death was supposed to be the instigating event for someone else's transformation? When she finally reached the flask, she was utterly delirious with blood loss and anxiety. She wrapped her teeth around the lid, twisting her head in order to undo the cap. It seemed to take an eternity to turn yet millimetre by millimetre, inch by inch, the lid did rotate. She pulled her head back once the cap came off and spat it away. Aqua Regia spilled on the ground, eating at the moss and stone below. She rolled over, placing her arm in the puddle. The creature hissed and roared; it gargled and undulated, seeming to scream. She smirked, assured of her victory, only for the thing to grow appendages which it wrapped around her throat. They were meaty, rubbery things: almost like rubber pipes. They constructed about her neck like a noose, crushing her windpipe like a plastic cup. The thing expected her to move, to reach for her throat, to do anything but stay still, yet she refused to move. She was at once convinced of her death and her survival; either way, she had no reason not to take the bastard leech with her. She could feel her arm getting lighter: the stench of rotting, burning flesh rose into the air. And finally, the thing stopped thrashing. It went utterly limp, its bottom half having turned to brown slag. Chunks of flesh bobbed up and down in the acid, steaming and hissing. Necrotic lumps of muscle and marrow gathered at the puddle's edges, borne on currents produced by the vigorous and effervescent reaction between the stuff and her blood. The worm on her arm had been halved and it transformed, before her eyes, into a simple flat obsidian blade covered in cracks, from which a viscous red substance poured. There was far too much of it to be entirely her own. It had to have been drawn from the sword's other victims, she presumed. She rolled over, away from the pool, and lay there gasping. Her right arm, the first one to be paralysed, regained feeling after a few moments and she pulled the thing's appendages from her neck. Its limbs were stretchy and covered in puckers that wouldn't have been out of place on an octopus' body. She saw her reflection in the roof of the cavern. She had a ribbon of purple bruises around her throat, and she was as pale as death itself. On one side of her body there was a shallow, dry gash which a thick black sludge oozed from. On the other, her whole arm had been skinned. The muscles, arteries and veins present beneath her skin were all exposed, yet all were as dry as desert sand. They didn't glisten, and were so shrivelled that they seemed to have adopted the texture of cured meat or jerky. Her injuries were severe, but her life wasn't in immediate danger. She noticed that her arm was hard like a candy apple and covered in a rigid yellow film. It was obviously the worm's saliva; a resin used to seal its victims' injuries so that none of their blood would go to waste. Despite the fact that it was an obvious Deus Ex Machina, she felt rather thankful for the resin's existence.

Jacquelyn clambered to her feet, clutching the wound on her chest. Her right arm hung, utterly useless, by her side. Her dartgun had been destroyed by the worm, greatly reducing her tactical abilities, though that hardly seemed important in the face of losing an entire arm. She picked up a stone and prepared to smash the sword to pieces, just to make sure that it went down. Mai, this whole time, had been elsewhere: the battle between Jack and the blade had gone down unnoticed by the rest of the group, somehow. The timeline was... wonky, to say the least, and Jackie had no interest in untangling that particular mess. The sword, however, began to shout. “Wait! Christ, hold up!” Ah fuck. Was this a trap? Under any other circumstances she would've shattered the blade there and then but knowing that it could speak and grow eyes gave her pause. “Ow ow ow, you fuckin'... Lucifer, what'd ya do to me?” The sword flipped over, revealing a beady cat's eye and a mouth filled with identical, wide-topped teeth. ”You got what you deserved, asshole. You tried to kill me! Or is this another one of those binding situations?” “Yes! Yes, it's the second one, I mean. Name's Alasehir, and for the hate of God, don't kill me. Mage's orders, y'see?” ”And why should I take your word for it?” “Why the Heaven d'you believe that Berith's telling the truth? That guy used to be the Capo Dei Capi of a water smuggling ring.” ”Water?” “Yeah! The deadly poison. What, I thought there was loads of it up here?” ”No, it's just that... I wasn't expecting that answer.” She paused, lowering the rock a little. ”Well shit, this leaves us at a bit of an impasse, doesn't it? Can't kill you, can't let you go... but there is a way I can work with you.” “There is? Mind- HEY WHAT THE HEAVEN ARE YOU DOING?! LET ME GO, YOU FEISTY CU-” Alasehir's next words were muffled by Jacquelyn's jacket, which she wrapped around it and tied to her belt. ”You're my informant now. Speak up, by the way. I can hardly hear you.” A moment of silence followed, then a sigh. “Fine. I guess this is better than bein' shattered, anyhow. Well then, lead the way, missy.”

Jackie emerged from her little alcove just in time to see Berith summoning the legions of Hell to his aid. The ground opened up like a dog's bumhole and began spewing 'Depsrayes' from the (presumably irritable) bowels of the earth. The whole battle seemed to have devolved into a no-holds-barred clusterfuck. An orgy of violence? A gangbang of gore? She left it to the reader's imagination. There was a fire mage going super saiyan (and then there wasn't, but she didn't like to admit how absolutely fucking useless she was compared to Dawn and Celeste), Wei was pulling an Exorcist on their asses, Mai lost her arm (and then she got it back)... ”Oh shit, arm loss buddies! Wait, nevermind. Fckn' gods. Leave some for the rest of us, would ya?” She mumbled, entirely aware that the two of them could hear her. She didn't actually know whether the twins' abilities superseded the authors': or at least, whether they superseded the authority of her author. She hoped not, since disappearing without a trace and having her existence retroactively nullified would probably inconvenience her in the long run. “Oh, wow! Look! You see the one on the right? That's Hirifligraes Xeliphentria Gadrecietri Buntaviscti! I used to make racketeering runs with him!” ”You mean that one?” Jack pointed at one of the Desprayes who was engaging Wei. The two clashing momentarily before the Celestial Order operative gained the upper hand, crushing the demon's head and mask with his bare hands. “Motherfucker.” The two of them were so busy conversing that Jacquelyn hardly had time to respond to the arrival of Elizabeth's ghostly gorilla, which seemed to be doing quite well for itself. It grabbed one of the demons and began tenderising it with its knuckles, easily breaking all the bones in their body before throwing their limp cadaver to one side like a wooden puppet. However, another came at her from behind, reaching out to behead her. “Get down!” Alasehir yelled, while simultaneously pulling her toward the Depsraye. ”You're giving me mixed messages here, mate!” She cried, fumbling with her dart stock and lobbing a freezing dart at the charging demon. It froze stiff and fell over under its own momentum; its arms and legs shattered on the floor, leaving it immobile. Apparently, demons didn't do well with the cold. “It's not my fault! And can you please stop hurting my pals? That poor bastard's going to get reincarnated as an imp now, you know that?” ”I don't know what that means, and I honestly don't care. Which way's your controller, by the way?” Alasehir tried to move toward the Eastern wall, where there were a number of little caves and rocky formations, each of which could be hiding her target. “Ignore that; it's my controller. Move in the opposite direction.” ”Right. That was predictable enough.” She sprinted toward the Western side of the room, keeping an eye out for the mage in charge of Berith. It was unlikely that they'd be out in the open, considering the importance of their mission. Then again, the possibility that Berith and Alasehir were lying to the group remained. However, she opted to go for the simpler explanation and decided to trust the sword, despite how stupid that decision may have been in any other world not governed by the laws of a story.
Last edited by Menschenfleisch on Mon Nov 11, 2019 1:02 am, edited 2 times in total.

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Menschenfleisch
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Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Menschenfleisch » Tue Nov 12, 2019 10:39 pm

Seeds of Anxiety

Basalt flowers sprouted from the green and sandy soil, shrouded by eternal midnight and within the shadows of towers so great in girth and height that they resembled Atlas’ arms. A yellow dot rose above the horizon to the... East? No, no. The light was downward and to the left at around a thirty five degree angle. Illumination was scarce here, not least because the dark gobbled up all luminescence. The tortured air, twisted like a prisoner on the rack, bent light in strange ways. Adam held up an iron lamp, watching mellow patterns spread out before him. His lantern threw dappled patchworks of light out, covering the earth and the structures around himself with frayed, tattered rays. A faraway whistling alerted him to the approach of his companion, Courtesy. She was a warden of reality, much like himself. It was a self-imposed title that entailed no creed or loyalty. Unfortunately it did carry some unfortunate implications and pretensions, though that ensured that it was only ever adopted by those truly seeking to protect the wider world. It was a thankless job, one where trustworthy colleagues were difficult to come by, let alone agreeable ones. He and Courtesy had been in the business for twenty years each, and had been working together for half that time – well, 'business' was a bit of a misnomer, it was more like volunteer work – and in that time they had been graced and cursed in equal measure by what they'd seen. He lay awake at night sometimes, thinking of angry worlds and eldritch locales beyond his meagre capacity for understanding and reason. The land beyond the Galleria, Edifice, was rather living up to those expectations. He would turn to his right and be staring at the sky, or take a step to his left and walk a mile backwards. His arm was under his knee, his eyes were swimming in an inky void: nothing here made logical sense, yet all of it felt right; his intuition was working better than his thinking mind. Courtesy cut her shrill whistle off, tapped her cheekbone with her index finger (or was that the tip of her nose?) and gestured at a titanic spire of black, gnarled stone behind and to the North-'neath of herself. Adam had to lean in and squint in order to make out what she was doing. Neither text nor speech were legible here. Words and letters leapt off the page and sank into endless oceans of paper so that paragraphs might take fractions of a second to comprehend while individual words could take hours to finish reading. Complex sounds were distorted too, adopting a coarse and eerie property to them, like the discomforting texture of vellum made of bats' skin.

Adam tended to travel light. He had flares, rations, a flask of water, two knives, a pistol and an aetheric satchel, his weapon of choice. It was a modest affair, little more than a leather pouch at first glance. Underneath that animal hide however was a flexible container made of adamantium mirrored scales, forming a suit of reflective chainmail that kept the aether within the bag from spilling out. It was a complex device suitable for almost any task. In the past, owners of such objects used them to construct buildings, counterfeit currency and provide energy for thaumaturgic rites of all natures. He was wearing a blue naturalist’s uniform: a tidy grey coat with a breast pocket and hidden compartments on its inside just visible enough that they could be plausibly explained to be regular pockets rather than places to hide contraband - he was only a warden in his off time, and the goodwill of the people simply wasn’t enough to earn him a living -; smart brown trousers tucked into long leather boots, the iron soles of which were worn to grit and featureless as polished ivory save for tiny chips and scars on their edges; an indigo cape thrown over his shoulders that enswaddled his upper body and reached his hip; and a stole painstakingly crafted from the webs of two dozen wick-weavers or more. Little bits of carapace still dotted its mellow, golden surface. It was warm and reassuring against his skin, like the touch of a lover or the comfort of a pet. Courtesy was in civilian plainclothes: a smart maroon trench coat, black pants and white soled sneakers. She did, however, cover her eyes with a set of brassy goggles with lens of green glass. She’d tied her hair into a bun: the strands resembled forks of fire, betraying her heritage. Adam approached her, looking upward as he did so. They were in what he could only assume used to be a street of some kind, though the linear and orderly topology of this place had long since fallen apart and decayed into a veritable labyrinth of dead ends. Space here was fractured like an overtaxed bone. The ground beneath him was chalky and covered in a layer of green sediment, beneath which there was some sort of slick, black substance that resembled mold yet was as resilient to damage as concrete. The jagged shapes of what may have once been plants sprouted from the gaps between the pavement and the buildings around them, which were sparse and low. Most seemed to be made of dark, rigid rock. However, they were warm to the touch and pudgy like sponges. One in particular stood out to them, however. It was taller and larger than the rest and lay behind a barred fence. Courtesy slid her rifle - the only weapon that she’d brought with her on this particular expedition - off her back and disconnected the bayonet, using it to slice through the fence. The bars clattered on the ground like they were made of glass, spraying black chips in every direction. The two of them squeezed through the gap, setting foot upon the lawn that lay beyond.

Adam considered the monolith before him. Was it a manor? No, it more resembled a spire than any sort of permanent habitation. Whatever purpose this place had once fulfilled was now lost and inscrutable, never to be reclaimed. There was nothing of importance outside the building beyond a few hundred square feet of empty, (possibly) flat land. They approached the front door, a two-inch wide crack on the negative seventh third storey of the building and walked through. Courtesy raised her rifle as they were gobbled up by the manor, staring down her weapon’s scope. Incandescent ribbons of crimson light emerged from the tip of her gun, bathing the wall in a bloody light almost as if the rifle were a flashlight. The building’s interior was no less distorted than the world outside, but many of the original furnishings had been preserved. The floor beneath their feet was soft, red and velvety but simultaneously slick and oily, as if covered with the membrane of an egg. The walls were made of black brick with pale mortar between them, with rich yet featureless tapestries hanging from them on stone pegs: this world had been extinguished so thoroughly that even the looters had lost hope and laid down to die. The foyer was small and crammed with strange artifacts. Bronze globes, golden trophies, blank paintings, blades and crates lay all around, creating a treacherous quagmire of scrap and rubbish in which anything could be hiding. It was obvious that none of this had been touched in a very long time, for it was covered in frost and undisturbed dust. A table had been set in one corner of the room, bedecked by empty bottles of schnapps and untouched, unrotted portions of biscuit and jerky. There was but one door besides the one that they’d entered through: it was on the ceiling, between the North and East walls. Intuitively, Adam reached out and pulled it to one side like a curtain, widening the tiny slit between the doorframe and the door until it was large enough for both he and Courtesy to pass through.

Beyond was a corridor. Mercifully, space within the house seemed to be far more stable than that without. One side of the hallway was covered in doors whereas another was completely taken up by rows upon rows of identical windows, each covered by a thick orange curtain. Creamy white light dribbled through the panes and pooled on the sills, giving the hall a ghostly pale hue. Adam pulled back a curtain to find that there was nothing beyond but a faint black-and-white outline of what may have once been. There were people outside but their faces were indistinct and lost to time. His mind was unable to comprehend the nothingness and so it filled in the gaps with his dreams, providing increasing texture and detail to what lay beyond the glass. The sky slowly adopted a cyan texture, bright and harsh like wet paint. A bundle of distant apparitions were gifted faces from his subconscious: they rather resembled the friends he’d made and left behind in high school, though their bodies were still undefined. Was that his mother he saw standing underneath the cypress tree with a basket of prunes in one hand? No, this was just an illusion. He pulled himself back and set the curtain back in place. They were just ghosts, the shadows and imprints of what had once been people. Courtesy, however, was captivated by the sight. Her eyes were glazed over, her breathing slow and unsteady. He tapped her on the shoulder: time to go. This place was not without its hazards.

She shrugged him off. Just a moment more, she promised herself. She saw her sister amongst a white field, her features gaining clarity by the moment. This was a memory that she thought she’d lost forever, marred and annihilated by the passing of time. She wanted to stay just a little longer, just long enough for all the details to come back to her. Her sister’s hair was just as she remembered it; sulphuric yellow with a streak of orange near her brow. Her kindly eyes with oblong pupils and orange irises: they were familiar yet forgotten. He tugged at her more insistently, forcing her to break eye contact. She was suddenly filled with an unexpected anger, as if Adam had just killed her sister in front of her. Yet, she did not raise an arm to hurt him; she simply clenched her fist, letting all her anger dissipate in the form of heat. She opened her mouth to mumble an apology, a threat, a demand - anything but silence - but her words came to him in bits and pieces: if her words were pickles then the air was a pickle slicer. The two of them had briefly forgotten that they couldn't communicate. Sighing(?) and drooping her head, Courtesy gestured at the next closest door that was further down the corridor. Neither of them were particularly sure of where their target was, but between Courtesy's gaze and Adam's intel, there was little doubt that they'd graced these baroque halls at least once before. The door handles in and out of the manor had been clean and obviously recently disturbed. There had also been indentations in the foyer's carpet like the ones left by heavy objects after having been placed there for a long time: if such indentations had become visible, then it was likely that someone had moved something quite massive in the not-so-distant past.

Adam paused just as they were about to enter the next room. He held a hand up, not even bothering to wait for Courtesy's reaction. She drew her rifle and butted the barrel against the wall, gently pressing it into the plaster. He pushed open the door and stepped through. Beyond was a study, its wallpaper decorated with floral patterns and intricate fractals. The floor, though timber, was covered in thick animal furs and rugs of eclectic designs, so thick that the center of the room noticeably bulged. The walls were covered in ornaments: worn down canvases were stored within timber frames painted with gold leaf. The opposite wall was swallowed up by a single massive window, with two great curtains - easily twice the size of king size blankets - covering the white wastes behind the glass. There was a woman in this room, too, sitting in a hard wooden seat with no cushion. She had his back to him, and all he could see of her was her hair, a river of charcoal black - somewhat grey - as if lightly dusted with ash. She gestured at the wall to his right with her hand, and he saw that her arm was covered in black tape and that she had thin, deformed neoprene gloves on. “Tell me what you see,” she asked of him. There was a silver-backed dressing mirror in one corner of the room which gave him a good view of her face. She was gaunt and tall, with brown yet blazing eyes. Her skin was almost featureless, devoid of scars and wrinkles. The room smelled of carpet lint and candle wax; it was as if the study had been fumigated with cigars and brandy. The desk in front of the woman who sat before him was covered in laminated sheets of white paper. Beside them was an empty album book and at the foot of the table there was a picture frame containing nothing but blank canvas. The woman pulled open a shelf and Adam ducked in preparation to dodge to either side but instead of drawing a weapon she acquired a nearly empty bottle of whisky. She poured a few drops onto her fingers and lifted her shirt just a little in order to rub them against her stomach. He couldn't see what she was doing but a moment later her hand caught on something. The woman, without so much as flinching, extracted a bullet from her abdomen and opened another drawer to deposit it in. Judging by the loud clattering noises emanating from that particular container, Adam hazarded a guess that many other bullets had been extracted before that one, and a few more were to follow. She gestured at the wall again. This time, she spoke: “Tell me what you see.” Hang on... she could talk? The air didn’t seem to scramble her words! “Do you understand me?” He asked. His words were garbled and messy – he could hardly tell what he was saying – so it became obvious that this room was no less affected by the decay of space than the rest of the house. However... “Yes. Can you answer my question, though?” He wasn't sure what her game was. She appeared to be docile, perhaps even benign. However, even if she wasn't his enemy, he had to be cautious around her. She fitted the profile of the entity who'd attacked AEGIS – tall, humanoid, corporeal, alive (mostly) – but lacked any weapons. However, the fact that she was pulling bullets out of her skin was enough to convince him that she was, at the very least, dangerous and someone's enemy; enough of an enemy to be shot at, apparently. He was remiss to follow the orders of his enemy, but this was a good opportunity to test his hypothesis that she was the individual that they were after. It was possible that she was trying to draw his attention to something that he wasn't supposed to see, a memetic kill hazard for example. However, he had contacts in his eyes to filter out that sort of thing. One didn't stay a warden for very long without having a few tricks like that up their sleeve – or at least enough savvy to know that you should never go without memetic protection. Besides, if she was just distracting him, Courtesy would blow her head off. He turned his head, despite feeling like it was a trap. “I don't see anything out of the ordinary. There's a wooden table. On top of it there's a blank globe, a compass, cartographer's equipment, a flask of dried ink and a quill.” Another clatter, another bullet. The woman's gloves were slick with blood: she cleaned them with a hand towel, the dirty side of which was matted with a crusty red paste, like almost dried watercolour paint.

“Hm. Quite baroque. Were you an adventurer when you were young? An explorer in the British spirit?” Adam shrugged. He was giving away information, sure, but the woman hadn't asked him for anything that could be used against him yet. Was she a chronomage, trying to tease out his past? No, definitely not, he would have noticed that by now. He still didn't know how she understood him, despite the fact that his speech would sound like codswallop to her. She wasn't correcting the irregularities in the room's topology, and she wasn't reading his mind – he had psionic wards carved into his skull. “No. My father was. We lived in a house much like this one.” She shook her head, using a strip of cloth that she'd placed on the desk to bandage the wound in her stomach. “It is your childhood home, it isn't just like it. Look at the desk again. That compass, don't you recognise it?” He glanced back and by god, he did. It was just as he remembered. That compass had been the object of his childhood obsession: he’d asked his father to let him play with it a hundred times, and every time he’d been rebuffed: “it’s sharp, you could hurt yourself”. But on his seventh birthday, he had used his birthday wish to ask his father to let him touch it, just once - for it was so pretty; it smelled of rich sherry and smoky tobacco and it shone under the light like a curved diamond. His father, upon hearing his request, had smiled kindly and given it to him as a gift, telling him that it was his. He had felt a surge of joy in that moment, reinforced by an undercurrent of pride; it was perhaps the only untainted memory he had of his dad. He’d been kind and had always provided for his family but his work had drawn him away from them. Adam had not grown up playing ball games with his father nor had he ever asked him for advice when he started going to school. His father had been, for all his life, a distant and glorious figure: untouchable in Adam’s mind and puffed up by childish naivete to be a god. But every other moment, every other memory he had of his dad was tinged with melancholy. “You were right.” He asked, switching gears inside his brain. He went from being a sappy sentimentalist to an inquisitive scientist in an instant. “Why am I able to see it?”

The woman was impassive and reserved. She had no personal stake in this discussion, or so it seemed. “This place is less than nothing. It’s the fading shadow of a world that died before your planet ever glimpsed the first light of the sun. Your mind recoils at how little substance there is around you and so it fills in the gaps with whatever it can make up or remember, whether it makes sense or not; even your dreams are more real than this place. Its impotence is cosmic and unfathomable. It reminds me of myself.” She was a bit of a philosopher, was she? Quite the self deprecator, too, if her tangent was anything to go by. Adam circled around her, constantly finding that even though he was moving in a perfectly circular manner, the woman was dancing all around the room; she appeared to his left, to his right, under and above him, anywhere but straight ahead. “I have to admit, I was wrong.” she seethed. “We had fifty years to change something, anything about the course that history would take.” She flipped her hand in the air. “But look where we are now.” She tapped the desk in front of her with a finger, producing an insistent knocking.The woman slumped in her chair. “Do you ever feel like life has just handed you a shit deck?” Adam shook his head, never letting her leave his line of sight. “Not really, no. The way I see it, when life gives you lemons-” A lance of red light punched through the wall and the woman seemingly simultaneously ducked to one side, grabbing the chair with the tip of her foot as she rolled out of the beam’s trajectory: she twisted on the floor, rapidly righting herself and swinging her leg in a wide arc, throwing the chair right at Adam’s head. He would’ve been decapitated if he had acted but a moment later, for just as she let loose her makeshift projectile his bag opened up and a wall of serrated blades and electric motors came bursting out of it: a tree made of crystal buzzsaws and diamond lathes grew from his satchel, creating a massive bramble of blades, each of which was sharp enough to rend steel without taking a scratch in return. The chair was swallowed up and crushed by the sudden outpouring of blades. The woman was gobbled up too, and the last he saw of her was a silhouette pierced in a thousand places, like a sheet of paper with pencils pushed through it. The room grew very quiet, and he waited… and waited… until finally, he was convinced that she was dead. “... you make lemonade, no matter how shitty it is.”

Courtesy walked into the room, shutting the door behind her. Red mist billowed from the muzzle of her rifle, thick and opaque as a freight ship’s smokestack. There was a hole in the wall where she had placed the barrel of her gun earlier, red and hot as a cauterised wound. The plaster sizzled just a bit, fortifying the silence with a hint of white noise. The two of them didn’t even so much as glance at one another: the woman had dodged before Courtesy had taken her shot. She waved her hand at him and he held up three fingers: the woman had rolled as soon as Courtesy had entered the third stage of firing, when the hammer struck the bullet. The wall of crystals was an unorthodox and fairly inconvenient kill method since it prevented them from confirming their target’s death but Adam had panicked in the moment. He’d encased that side of the room in solid diamond so whether their guest was alive or not was irrelevant, since they were certainly still trapped inside. Courtesy chambered another shot in her rifle and put it on her shoulder, firing through the crystal mass. Again and again, she perforated it with holes. The heat of her gun was intense enough to reduce the crystal to slag in some places: lustrous slime oozed from the holes in the wall. Neither of them were stupid enough to think that the fight was over before they’d seen their target’s body. But… what was that black dot in the middle of the wall He put a hand on Courtesy’s shoulder, staying her fire. The white wall of spikes before them was adopting a black and diseased hue before their eyes, not unlike the shade of a purple rose. He expected the woman to burst through, no doubt peppering the room with deadly shrapnel. Instead she simply walked through the wall, covered in black powder. Charcoal: he could identify it by its smell. No, not even that. It was purer than he’d assumed: it was activated carbon! He drew an amethyst claymore from his satchel, shaping the aether within the bag to suit his needs. Armoured plates grew over his body, covering him in chainmail with scales formed from adamantium, the strongest material on the planet. He lofted a kite shield up with his left arm and swung his sword with his right. The woman did not move from her standing position; what was she doing? Was it a trap? He hesitated for just a moment and in that instant she surged forward, snapping his blade - no, dissolving it with one hand. She bared her teeth, jumping up into the air and twisting around, delivering two kicks - one after the other - to his head. He deflected the first with his shield, causing black rivulets to run down its surface: it shattered into tiny, glittering pieces which soon fell to the ground and turned black, staining the carpet with midnight ash. The second strike passed through his bracer as easily as putty. The force behind the woman’s strikes was monumental; he felt like he was getting hit by a train over and over again. His arm, subject to intolerable strain, was only saved from snapping like a matchstick by Adam himself, who reinforced it with his other forearm. Even so, he heard his bones cracking. He fell back and the woman followed. She held herself close to the ground, half crouching and half sprinting so that she was both hard to hit and hard to track. She pressed herself right up against him, pulling her arm back as if to reach through his chest. There was a flash of light and the glint of brass, and then the woman’s arm was at his ribs no more: she was holding the blade of an axe in her hand and the tip of a knife in the other. Courtesy was holding onto the knife, having thrown the axe over Adams shoulder. The woman’s fingers dug into the metal that made up the blades as if they were made of soft mud and though she snarled and eyed them both up, she fell back. Courtesy’s weapons were deformed and rotten, covered in rust as if aged for centuries. She tossed them aside and drew her rifle in a motion so quick and precise that to Adam it was just a blur. Courtesy aimed and fired her weapon with just her right hand, for her left was preoccupied with loading it as fast as she was able. The woman appeared to flicker from spot to spot as well, bouncing off the roof, the walls and the floor: leaving indentations wherever she stepped. The woman got underneath the desk and kicked it with tremendous force, generating wind currents that swept the dust in the air into a frenzy and which propelled the table like a cannonball at Courtesy. A barrage of shots - dozens every second - answered the attack, cutting the desk in half down the middle so that it split apart, smashing into pieces on the wall behind her. However, after that, the woman seemed to be gone and so did Adam. It took Courtesy a moment to realise that the two of them were behind her, locked in a bloody struggle. The woman had curled up inside the desk, concealing herself so that she could attack from behind! Adam was struggling to even lay a finger on the woman whereas she was easily picking apart his defences, slicing through his armour with just the tip of her finger. She bent her body in ways that reminded Courtesy of the ways in which medieval prisoners were tortured: she seemed to be equally capable of attacking Adam no matter where he was in relation to her. Even when he appeared to be behind her, having seized a lucky opportunity, she continued to parry each of his strikes with all the effort that it took Courtesy to breathe. The ground was littered with crystal shards, all of which were slowly being consumed by a strange blight.

Adam was on autopilot, relying on instincts alone to keep him alive through this ordeal. He could hardly even keeptrack of his opponent, let alone land a good hit on her. He paid careful attention to his footwork, trying to maintain good grounding. Each of her strikes was lethal, targeted and determined; she feinted and struck at the same time, constantly evolving her fighting style. She’d started out very mobile,probing his defences for weakness. Over time, however, she’d begun to attack him with more and more conviction; it was only a matter of time until his bones gave way. He was having to brace his limbs with iron rods and plaster casts just to keep them functional; there was no doubt that his skeleton was in pieces beneath all that gauze and cladding. His breathing was ragged and his suit was in pieces. He swore, however, that he was still a better fighter than his opponent. He’d seen the tip of his blade sinking into her flesh at least half a dozen times by now, and yet she seemed completely uninjured. Was it his imagination? Was she healing herself, somehow? He wanted to run, but he knew better than to turn his back on someone who possessed such an obvious, massive advantage in mobility. He stole a glance at Courtesy only to see that she was aiming right at him: he ducked just as a red streak passed through the place where his head had been moments before. “Eyes on me!” He heard, right as the woman thrust the sole of her foot into his knee, bending his leg the wrong way and breaking it like a twig. He both felt and heard his shattered joints gurgling as blood and synovium mingled and dribbled down the inside of his skin, bloating his shin and knee. He pushed on, despite the pain, and ‘healed’ his leg by covering it with an impromptu splint. She kept talking, even as she was overcoming him. Courtesy’s shots kept landing around them, never hitting their mark. She fired, missed, cursed, reloaded: but it was of no use. Space didn’t play by the rules here, and her shots were constantly waylaid. But with every shot, she came closer to hitting her mark. Bit by bit, inch by inch, her cone of fire grew tighter: she was mapping out the room, meticulously recording the trajectory of every bullet she fired. The room was crisscrossed by lines, the segments of a web she’d crafted. The woman struck Adam and for a moment, her head whipped forward with the momentum of her attack; her temple intersected one of those strings, and Courtesy pulled the trigger. Wait, did she recognise-

A grim white pain budded in Courtesy’s head, severing that line of thought. The sensation was as crisp as wind in winter and as focused as a laser pointer. The world stood still: the woman and Adam stood, one in shock and one in slight bemusement, looking at her. She lowered her rifle after a moment of hesitation and apprehensively raised her hand to pull her goggles off, although she did not yet understand what was wrong nor why she felt such an overwhelming dread. She glanced at the scope of her rifle: the glass lenses had shattered, somehow. She looked at her goggles, too. The left lens had been shattered, and not all of the glass pieces could be accounted for. The woman smiled discreetly, rather satisfied with herself. “I knew it. You were wearing those goggles to hide the movement of your eyes.” The woman had goaded her into taking that shot. She’d known that Courtesy was mapping out the room and had deliberately put herself in a vulnerable position, knowing that the archdemon would take the shot, subsequently allowing the woman to deflect the bullet back at her, bypassing Adam’s attempts to keep the woman from crossing the room. It was not an intricate logic thread, merely a long one: however, it was still a testament to the woman’s ingenuity. Courtesy’s hands shook, and she gently put her index finger on her eye, only to feel glass shards still stuck in her face. There was a bullet there, too, at the bottom of her eye socket. She couldn’t even close her left eyelid; the pieces of glass would get in its way, tugging on her blinded oculus. Her chest, against her command, began to heave. She breathed in and out, hyperventilating and trembling. With a gasp she fell down and roared, falling on her back and holding her hands over her eye. She wanted to pull the glass from her face and yet at the same time she didn’t want to aggravate the wound further. A muffled yet visceral squelching came from the inside of her head every time she breathed, blinked or turned her head. Blood, incandescent blood, poured from her sclera, dribbling down her face and pooling on the floor. Each droplet was like a bead of magma, it would sizzle then freeze, forming a miniscule piece of crimson stone. Her stomach twisted itself in knots, her heart sank like lead at sea, her ears roared, her intestines writhed as if they were serpents, her lungs seized up and felt as if they were shrivelling: she was gripped by an unyielding panic, and it took all her strength not to run. If the woman wanted her dead, she would’ve been already. Courtesy’s only chance of survival now was to convince the woman, somehow, that she wouldn’t pose a threat in the future - either by leaking information about her or by attacking her.

Adam coughed up a wad of blood and meat. Gore spurted from his mouth, staining the blackened diamonds that adorned her chest, and then he crumpled like a stringless puppet, no longer able to support his own weight. He was on his knees and his arms hung limp by his sides. The woman stepped back, breathing heavily, though nowhere near as much as Courtesy was. Adam, meanwhile, didn’t seem to be inhaling at all. Every time he tried, his chest would flare up in excruciating pain, like hot pokers were being forced through his body. Yet soon, the urge to breathe in overwhelmed the urge to stay perfectly still, and so he began gently taking air in through his nose, doing so in tiny, intermittent bursts of breath. “I’m sorry,” The woman professed. “I could’ve taken what I wanted without killing as many people as I did. But when I saw what they had done to them, what they were going to do… well, I did a very un-reaver like thing. I got mad.” She smirked, though the expression was built on sombre foundations. “Heh. I guess the docs didn’t stamp out my emotions as thoroughly as they thought they had. Or maybe, they just didn’t expect me to live long enough for it to come back to me.” She stared at Courtesy; her intentions were inscrutable but one thing was certain. She did not want to hurt the good devilless, at least for the time being. That was good. She gently raised her hands as if to indicate that the woman needed not come closer, for she was unarmed. The woman, of course, showed no reaction - or at least no reaction that the devil could read. “I just want their bodies. I’ll take them to places that they’ve always wanted to visit; places that they considered home; places that they never knew they needed to be in. I just want to give them proper burials.” She sighed wistfully. “I don’t know why, but the idea of just existing - not being caught up in anyone’s plans, not having any righteous mission - has always appealed to me. I won’t go back to the mass murderer that I was.” Her expression softened like melting ice and an alien kindness began to break through. She twisted her mouth into a smile, one so warm and inviting that it could only be fake. “Look, what I’m trying to say is… you don’t have to die. I can whip up some amnestics, wipe your memories, and then disappear.” There was something about her face that reminded Courtesy of someone. Her… her sister? No, surely- definitely not. Yet, the connection was unmistakable. “You...” She wheezed, her body still shuddering and drawing breath involuntarily. “What’s your name?” Adam didn’t know what Courtesy was saying. The woman was only able to understand them because she had the brains - or the magical brawn - to assemble all the noises that she was receiving into one coherent sequence. The woman shrugged. “Felici-” There was a brilliant flash of light. It was as blinding as staring into the sun itself and as pure as the shadow cast by an angel. Burning, yearning, the light seemed to claw at the dark itself. There was a sound like a tuning fork being struck against a metal banister and then a starburst of white and red filled the air. Molten shrapnel flew in all directions and when Adam cleared the tears from his eyes, he saw that Courtesy and Felicity were standing right next to one another, their noses almost touching. In Courtesy’s hand was an incandescent knife whose edge was chipped and crisp. Felicity’s hand was similarly raised and her fingers were on the knife. Or rather, her remaining fingers were. Her index finger lay on the ground in the middle of a pool of liquefied carpet while her middle finger hung off her hand by a tiny thread. The knife was halfway buried in her ring finger, although it no longer possessed the sharp edge required to dig further. It had cracked after slicing through the first two of Felicity’s fingers and had shattered entirely after digging into the bone of her third, spraying tungsten shards across the room. The stench of iron and metallic fire hung in the air.

“Don’t be stupid.” Despite Felicity’s injuries, she remained utterly unfazed. Although her blood sizzled and boiled away as it touched Courtesy’s knife, black stains were already beginning to spread down the blade and onto the handle. “You have thirty minutes to live, tops. The bullet I put in your eye? That carried a few of my skin flakes; and the infestation is right next to your brain. In two minutes, you’ll lose the capacity to reason. In five, you’ll forget why you were here in the first place. In ten, you’ll be a vegetable for the rest of your-” Courtesy stuck out her elbow with terrifying speed. Felicity parried with her own forearm but to no avail - the crook of the devil’s arm was as hot as a plasma lathe. The knife melted in Felicity’s hand at the same time, spilling molten tungsten over her palm. She fell back as meat and fat sloughed off her limbs, dribbling away like candle wax and burning on the floor. Adam propped himself up with his blade, unable to do much else beyond draw breath and watch. He wanted to tell Courtesy to run or accept Felicity’s offer; there was no way that they could defeat her, no when she could break through any defence. The devil’s surprise attack had succeeded only because it had taken Felicity by surprise. If she kept fighting, she would lose for sure. Felicity stood back, appraising her opponent as she tore her middle finger off her hand - for it was no longer useful to her - and stuffed it into her coat pocket as casually as one would peel the sticker off an apple. “Under most circumstances, I wouldn’t have bothered to remember your sister. But I’m a reaver, so I never forget.” Courtesy drew a long steel sabre from her belt, gripping it with one hand while the other lay at rest beside her. Fires were breaking out all over the room. Already, the air was thick with smoke and the floors were covered in cinders. “Patience. Red eyes, hazel blood. High pitched voice, average physique. Fond of sesame buns. Am I right?” The handle in Courtesy’s hand burst into flames. A plume of fire ran up its edge. With tremendous speed and force she struck it against a nearby chair, shattering the wooden stool and filling the air with sparks. She plunged her weapon through the blinding haze, aiming for the reaver’s heart. She came to a jarring halt, lurching forward and getting the wind knocked out of her by the hilt of her sword; Felicity had caught the blade in her hands. The devil’s eyes narrowed. Her mind was ticking.

“What do you stand to win here? I’ve already killed you; a different, stronger version. I know you, Courtesy. I know you like an old friend.” The sword fell apart, silently dissolving into a black dust which exuded a visible miasma that smelled like meat pulp and burning oil. Smoke coiled around them, pooling about their feet and ensnaring their arms. “Felicity. I know why you caught my sword rather than just grazing or ignoring it, like you did when Adam attacked you.” She rolled forward, pulling one of the rugs over her head as she did so. She launched herself upward with explosive force, locking arms with the reaver. However, as she did so, she placed the rug between them so that their hands were not in contact. A thunderous boom resounded about the room as Courtesy’s hands began to incandesce a brilliant shade of yellow. “Your ability works best on orderly objects. Decay is nothing more than the reduction of a mighty whole into its impotent constituents: that’s why you found it so easy to break down diamond and adamantine. Even though they were strong materials, they were orderly and arranged systematically: you found it easy to break that system down. But elemental metals, like iron? Those are harder to break down. There are no complex bonds to shatter, no molecules to dissolve and no consistent arrangements of atoms to break up. That’s why you didn’t ignore the axe I threw at your earlier, why you couldn’t just dissolve my blade, and why you won’t be able to destroy this rug as instantaneously as you destroyed Adam’s crystal armour.” The reaver tried to pull away but Courtesy interlaced their knuckles together through the carpet, wrestling to keep the two of them together rather than trying to push her opponent away. Felicity was strong but she was down two fingers and a whole lot of blood. Neither Courtesy nor Adam knew it, but she hadn’t even remotely begun to recover from the wounds she’d suffered during her attack on AEGIS. Her abdomen was still perforated with projectile injuries and thus her core muscles were weak, rendering her powerless to defend herself. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t know whether this would work. I looked in a mirror to gauge how deep the bullet you reflected at me punctured my eye and estimated the distance between it and my brain. Then, using the time figures you gave me, I managed to roughly work out the rate at which your ability affects organic tissue. This rug is pretty thick: it’ll last me twenty seconds. How long do you think it’ll take for me to turn your hands into soup?” With every passing second, the reaver lost her ability to pull away. Courtesy could feel her finger bones expanding in the intense heat and cracking due to intense heat stress; the marrow inside her bones was boiling and threatening to burst out. This was it! If she managed to destroy one of the reaver’s hands, the rest of the fight would be a cinch. The reaver obviously couldn’t use weapons, since she could only infest others with her blight by making skin contact with them; if she tried to turn her weapon into a vector for contagion, she’d only be destroying her tool of choice. “I win,” She muttered, grinning from ear to ear.

Felicity, with a previously unrevealed strength, clenched her fists. She wrapped her fingers around Courtesy’s. Now the devil was the one trying to pull away while the reaver was the one trying to keep them together. The devil’s bones buckled and a white hot pain shot throughout her body. Felicity’s hands were deformed like half molten snow sculptures or partially burnt candles but she didn’t seem to care; she held on, slowly annihilating the rug that protected Courtesy from her. “It won’t matter that you figured that out if I kill you right now. You can’t speak to Adam and vice versa: the only person who’ll hear your last words is me, and he’ll die having never known the secret that you managed to learn - a piece of information that he would’ve been able to use far more effectively than you. It’s a damn shame. I thought that maybe, this time around, you’d amount to something.” This was bad. Courtesy couldn’t even feel her arms any more. Her shoulders were cramping up and everything below her elbows was totally numb and seemingly beyond her control. She fell to her knees, roaring. Felicity leaned over her with a look of profound disappointment in her eyes, as if sad to see the devil go. Already, they could feel each other’s hands poking through the threadbare carpet. “This is your end. There’s no Heaven or Hell waiting for you.” Felicity snarled, causing Courtesy to shy away. She couldn’t pull away, let alone reach for a weapon. The reaver was just too strong and too willing to allow herself to come to harm in order to get at her enemies. This was it. She was about to be snuffed out like an ephemeral candle flame, having amounted to nothing but embers and inert ash in the end. She had landed only a few insignificant blows on the reaver, and yet even that had taken all that she could offer. Already, the reaver’s molten fat was seeping through the carpet. In a moment their skin would touch, and then the devil’s hands would each be cut into six coarse slices by Felicity’s fingers, each of which were like acid-edged knives. But wait… molten, bubbling fat. Burning, boiling flesh! Courtesy jolted and sat up as far as she could, coming eye to eye with Felicity. Her bad eye, the one cut up by glass, pulsated and throbbed. The reaver had just a moment to realise what was going on before the devil’s eye erupted into a geyser of superheated humours and blood, spraying shards of glass and giblets of flesh out of her eye socket like buckshot, covering Felicity’s face in scalding tar. Her grip loosened for just a moment and Courtesy pulled away, throwing the rug to one side whereupon it unravelled and turned to black dust. She looked at her hands: there was no obvious sign of infestation. Wait, this was no time to be checking on herself! She had to press the advantage!

While Felicity was reeling, clawing at her eye - which was now crusted over with solidifying bodily grease and molten flesh - Courtesy slung her rifle off her back - having never taken it off her person - and fired right at the reaver, who had accidentally stumbled into one of the trajectory lines that the devil had plotted earlier. This time, she had no time to deflect the bullet as it came toward her. She flung her body to one side in a desperate attempt to avoid being killed on the spot. This last-ditch effort saved her from being decapitated, as Courtesy had hoped things would turn out, but still caused the bullet to punch through her bad arm’s shoulder, completely destroying the joint and rendering it useless. It certainly would’ve been better for the devil if the bullet had hit her good arm, but she considered this outcome to be more than acceptable nonetheless. The recoil, however, did not do wonders for her already sore wrists. She dropped her gun, nursing her hands as feeling slowly returned to them. Felicity fell backwards as unctuous, viscous gunk effused from her wound; a mixture of blood, joint fluid and lymph. Her blood was a solvent unlike any other. The whole room began falling apart and the floor beneath her rapidly jellified, turning into a thick paste which the reaver sank into as easily as a stone would sink into water. Courtesy ran forward and pulled Adam away from the caustic puddle. The room’s walls and ceiling were sagging while the floor was slowly turning to ooze. The middle of the room was at a notably lower elevation than the rest, like there was a whirlpool sucking everything in. Courtesy, with her luggage in tow, burst through the door - for the doorknob was too soft and dough-like to grip properly - into the adjacent hallway whereupon she collapsed, falling against a wall. Her chest heaved as she breathed in and out, her body demanding ever increasing amounts of oxygen. She felt like she was about to have a panic attack; she’d not noticed it earlier but fear had gripped her like an iron vice earlier. She had truly seen no way out of the predicament that the reaver had put her in right up until the last second, when a moment of inspired innovation had saved her life. What a lucky break! Perhaps fortune was on their side.

The room’s fires had been put out and now, all seemed quiet. Sure, the wall in front of them was melting before their eyes and turning into an unpleasant green slime, but the reaver was assuredly gone for now. Courtesy had caught a glimpse of Felicity’s face right before she’d sunk through the floor and she swore that it had been an expression of terror, like the face of someone freshly awoken from a nightmare or recovering from an episode of sleep paralysis. She hadn’t meant to sink through the ground, that much was certain. With any luck, the reaver would drown in a pool of her own blood and decaying stone. That was, of course, almost entirely improbable and exceptionally optimistic; Courtesy was making a lot of assumptions based on bad assessments of their situation. However, how could she be blamed? Her frontmost cortex was already beginning to dissolve. Bursting her eye had dispersed Felicity’s curse all throughout the interior of her skull. She suddenly began to cough and sputter, hacking up a chipped tooth nestled inside a wedge of mushy, dead flesh. It had been blighted and had therefore fallen out. “Shit. I got Felicity’s dirty taint on my face.” At this distance, and with so little interference around them, their words were mostly legible to one another. Adam balked, although it pained him to make such expressions. “You what?” Courtesy giggled, not even bothering to stifle it. “Oh my Lucifer, I didn’t mean- hahaha, haha!” Adam braced his arms with plastic prosthetics and grabbed his companion by the shoulders, shaking her back and forth. “Wait- that wasn’t supposed to be funny. Dear god, what- what happened to you? Where’s your eye?!” Her eye socket was not empty. In fact, it was filled with a mound of dark meaty residue which moldered and stewed in a pool of diseased blood. Adam pulled up Courtesy’s sleeve, revealing black spots all along her forearm. “It’s metastasising?” Courtesy’s laughter dried up as suddenly as water on a stovetop. She reached out, grasping at the air. Her fingertips trembled. “Tremolo, pizzicato, arpeggio,” she whispered under her breath. “Bless. It’s… taking longer t-... you know.” She was, despite her present condition, not consumed by panic. They were wardens; it was improper to fear death when one’s profession was to sacrifice without thanks. Besides, she’d come to terms with the possibility of dying a long time ago. When devils died they were sent to the Black Sun. There, they were archived and then either reincarnated or fed to the flames of the Consensus. She hoped to be burnt; she would become a member of a vast choir, a council of sages whose combined wisdom exceeded all others. She was sure to meet her sister one day in the Consensus; in time, every devil would be burnt. They had an eternity in which to live, die and reincarnate, and every life they lived and lost was an opportunity to be fed to the flames. And while she waited, she could read the archives of all the devils who’d lived before her, including her own. Who was she, in a past lif- Adam slapped her across the face, causing her ears to ring and her eyes to water up. “Stop that! You’re not dead yet!” She couldn’t help but laugh in the face of his fury. It was just so absurd and comedic; the anger with which he expressed his concern. “A-Adam, I appreci- appr… I like you worrying about me but I’m fine.” As strong as his instincts - which screamed at him to get the two of them out of there - were, he would’ve been remiss to suggest that Courtesy didn’t know how to handle herself. The two of them had been partners for years now, and they trusted each other with their lives. In fact, they had done several times over.

Courtesy set about patching herself up with little bits of metal shrapnel: she pinched pieces of steel until they melted and kneaded them into her wounds as if they were solder. She was utterly immune to the heat and metal was much less likely to give way than fabric. She was a Faustian devil, a creature with great control over other beings’ souls and the ability to harness said souls in order to achieve incredible things. She had a small pouch on her belt filled with little cyan marbles. Each of them was a fragment of somebody’s soul, whether an anomaly she’d vanquished or a bystander who’d requested that she take their soul. They could live on through her: demons did not destroy souls, rather they consumed them. Reincarnated demons inherited the souls that they’d harvested in all their previous lives, while burnt demons brought the souls with them into the Black Sun, where they could be free and youthful for a boundless eternity. Demon royalty was created, not born. Though, the lords and princes of Hell had not changed much in the last few millennia. She supposed that was due to the slow advancement of the human race, formerly one of the most reliable sources of souls in the universe. Old farts from before Heaven’s Exodus reminisced all the time about the age when all it took to deprive of a man of his soul was to promise him the death of his rival or the love of his crush. Ever since the advent of institutions like AEGIS, The Celestial Order and the Church, it had become increasingly inconvenient to purchase human souls without inviting retaliation upon oneself. There was a massive black market for spirifers’ goods, of course, but it was nothing compared to the bustling bazaar that’d once inhabited the heart of Hell, where even the poorest and most decrepit of imps could make a fortune from a day’s begging. She wasn’t old enough to remember that period but she’d still lived long enough that she’d gotten that general impression from her elders. She broke out of her reverie for a moment in order to calm her shaking hands; she was getting iron slag all over the carpet due to her clumsiness. In doing so, she caught sight of Adam, who was lost in thought. “What are we going to do now?” Her question was sincere. She didn’t trust her own judgement, knowing that her brain was degrading by the minute. “Courtesy, I want to go after her. If we don’t, we may never get another chance to bring her down. She’s at her absolute weakest at this very moment: I don’t think she’s ever been weaker in her entire life. Half dead from the battle in Lludw Cigfrain, exhausted from the raid on AEGIS’ headquarters and riddled with injuries from other engagements; it’s now or never.” He stared at her with meaning and consideration in his eyes. “I won’t ask you to come with me. She’s just lost an arm, I’m sure I can handle her.” Courtesy shook her head. “Don’t underestimate your opponents, Adam. I know you’re all about that ‘justice’ and ‘heroism’ crap, but that doesn’t make you a superhero. Still, she can’t have gotten far, so the disease probably won’t play a major role in the upcoming battle. I’ll go with you, Adam; but we need to make this quick.”

Adam, in spite of his injuries, managed to keep pace with Courtesy the whole time that they descended through the earth, travelling down stairwells and clambering down the sides of twisted buildings. Felicity wasn’t hard to track, now that they’d caught her scent. Adam was a scry: with just a scrap of her blood he managed to divine her location, although getting to her was another matter entirely. He’d produced numerous different drugs and stims to keep himself going: blood coagulants, healing potions, adrenaline, et cetera. Without them, he probably would’ve died of internal bleeding a long time ago. The two of them tried to make their descent as hastily as possible, knowing that Courtesy had only a few more minutes until she was entirely incapacitated. To them, fifteen minutes seemed like more than enough time to deal with the rogue reaver. In fact, they hardly felt any panic at all: this was rote to them. 

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Menschenfleisch
Diplomat
 
Posts: 766
Founded: Nov 01, 2017
Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Menschenfleisch » Tue Nov 12, 2019 10:40 pm

Felicity was injured, but by no means down for the count. The loss of an arm would hardly slow her down. She could no longer see out of her left eye, but that was hardly an issue; she could still achieve depth perception via context clues, though it required quite a bit of brainpower to make up for the lack of a second eye. That’d been the same eye that Elizabeth had stabbed. As the two of them had fallen through the sky - Felicity with a thorn as heavy as a nightmare in her chest and Elizabeth with a dozen blessings heaped upon her - the witch had inflicted countless agonies upon her, mixing up and mangling her organs like cereal dissolving in milk. The witch had reduced her to gore and shards of bone, and then she’d burnt every last millilitre of Felicity to an alchemical crisp. And yet, she had survived. The severing blade that Elizabeth had stabbed her with had severed her from the reavers’ neural network, yes, but it hadn’t destroyed her disembodied consciousness. She’d spent days in the mud, clinically and absolutely aware of what was happening to each of the particles that’d once made up her body. Most had been annihilated and dispersed in the mud, having been torn from their cells by heat and magical entropy. Others had been consumed and made part of animals: worms, crows and demons. She’d felt herself being digested, sunburnt, frozen, buried, drowned, strangled and crushed all at once. It’d been so, so long before she discovered a living cell: a single, perfect immune cell laying upon the back of a cockroach. She’d commanded it to consume the shell of its host, and then the entirety of the creature. It hadn’t been easy: her cells didn’t have a brain to connect to and so she’d needed to manually manipulate all of them at the same time to keep herself alive. A few hours and dozens of insects later, however, she’d achieved a rudimentary sort of existence as a small, beetle-like creature. From there, she’d moved onto larger and larger prey. Possums, rats, stray cats and honeybees. She’d avoided hurting humans in spite of their incredible nutritional value; it had been both a pragmatic and conscientious decision. Now, however, she found herself being thrust back into the world of genocide and decimation, of murder and monsters. She only wanted to give her friends proper burials. Yet, it seemed as if all the forces of Heaven and Hell were arrayed against her. The Earth itself seemed to buckle and shift, trying to throw off her search and attract the attention of scavengers. She wasn’t only wanted as a mass murderer but also as a scientific oddity. No doubt, AEGIS’ primary motive for going after her was to have a live reaver to experiment on. Kim was in their custody, but she hadn’t really been an Arawn Reaver to begin with. She’d been created through other methods, given different faculties, even granted all the emotions that people were supposed to have. Felicity envied her, the lucky bitch. She’d gotten the choice to leave the reavers’ lifestyle behind, whereas Felicity now found herself alone in a world that she wasn’t physically capable of understanding on any level besides scientific. She didn’t want to kill these people, but she would have to if she was to grant her comrades the mercy of final rest. Fragments of them remained in her head: bits and pieces that’d been passing through her mind when she’d been severed from the network. She heard their voices, every now and then. Some asked to be avenged, to be obeyed, to be saved; most begged to be forgotten. She knew that she would never be rid of the voices until she gave them closure, and she knew that somewhere out there, no matter how damaged and no matter how lacking in ego, her friends were still ‘alive’. Their minds were tenacious, designed to exist long past the destruction of the body. Perhaps they were with her even now, slowly falling apart as the collective consciousness of humanity picked at them, bit by bit, dispersing their identities. Perhaps none of them were around, and she was merely doing this for the sake of getting a good night’s rest. Either way, this was the only thing in her life that gave her anything resembling purpose. She had to do this.

Felicity felt like a puppy: a paraplegic, blind, epileptic puppy. She’d consciously constructed her body piece by piece, maintaining absolute control over all of her cells’ functions and activities. In spite of that, however, her current form still felt limited and unfamiliar. She’d lost control of her cells when her arm had been severed, having had to dedicate all her intellect toward keeping herself from bleeding out. She’d fallen through the roof of the sky, having landed both below and beneath her original location. Space, as she’d exploited countless times already, was distorted here. However, it was not malleable. She was presently within a massive stone chapel with pews hewn from basalt and an arched roof made of alabaster marble and granite. The floor was covered in dust, pebbles and tiny, perfect gemstones formed from recursive, crystalline air. Metallic hydrogen and nitrogen, with hints of ammonia and oxygen. She picked up one crystal, about the size of her fist, and let it dissolve in her hand. Most people, even some of her former peers, hadn’t understood the mechanism of her abilities. She didn’t merely destroy things, or introduce entropy into their systems, or accelerate their aging: she infused objects, entities and all manner of substances - anything that could be described as ‘existing’ in any state - with the concept of decay. Her attacks were symbolic, conceptual and subjective; she used them pragmatically, but attempting to study them with the scientific method was entirely pointless. Perhaps that was why Bohemians made good hyperphysicists, she mused, as she approached the stage and sat down on the steps in front of it. Her arm hung by a few strained ligaments and strips of flesh from her shoulder, smoldering and hissing as blood dribbled from the open, not-quite-cauterised wound. She took hold of her elbow and pulled it off herself, stretching the last remaining strands until the strain grew too great and they snapped. She’d initially wanted to wipe the memories of her attackers before sending them away, but that no longer seemed to be an option. They were either going to depart or come after her, and she wasn’t about to let herself be caught off guard. She set down her severed arm and pried it open with two fingers, setting to work on her own flesh.

It was difficult at first to work: she had no tools but her fingers, and if she had rotted her arm in order to make it easier to work with then that would’ve defeated the purpose of using her own flesh. She pulled out ligaments and tendons, carefully disconnecting them from the bones and muscle groups that they were connected to, filing one of her right hand’s fingers on the floor in order to create a scalpel with which she could slice through the tougher tissues in her arm. She was intimately aware of each and every organ in her own body: she’d put them there, after all, and therefore she knew what each little joint and pustule did, what each strand of flesh connected to, what bone fitted with what. She threaded her muscles together and tied them to the ends of her ulna and radius with twine made from tendons, then she pulled her wrist joint apart so that her arm bones were connected only at one end. She stretched a length of ligament over the back of the bones, tying it tight at each end so that it pulled them straight. She fashioned the two severed fingers in her pocket into sharpened bolts. And, when Courtesy and Adam arrived, they found her sitting in a pool of her own blood with one arm and one eye gone, nowhere to be seen. The church had great stone doors mounted on ancient, rusted hinges. The towering slabs slammed shut behind him, their haphazard and worn edges still managing to lock in place. Felicity noted, with some surprise, that he was still standing. His body was covered in tiny hydraulic machines, enhancements designed to increase one’s natural strength. Here, they helped him to move despite his countless fractures and bruises. He still had his pouch on him, the reaver noted. She hadn’t been able to get it off him earlier. “Felicity!” He called out, while his Faustin companion stood behind him. “This is my first, last and only warning: stand down and surrender. It’s over.” She, bleeding and dazed, clutched the stump on her shoulder and smirked as she rose to her feet. “I enjoyed it,” She gloated, smiling widely. “Your sister was delicious. Her love for you was like honey.” She crooned and grinned. Her words were saccharine like fresh orange juice, and her voice was silky yet runny, like milk and molten butter. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to join her. If I remember correctly, she got reincarnated as a sex worker in the Seventh district. I could even share the address she had in the last iteration of this universe with you, if you wanted me to.” Courtesy made to run at her but Adam held her back. The devil’s eyes were eaten up by rekindled hate and grave-dug grief. Felicity put her hands about her throat, putting on a pleading voice, identical in every way to Courtesy’s late sister. “Curt! Run!” Her throat was choked by phlegm, blood and tears. She shook and sobbed, screamed and roared. She conveyed every emotion, replayed every memory that Courtesy still had. “How was school today?” That question had always annoyed her. So repetitive, so unnecessary. Yet, it had been routine. “Get out! I hate you!” For all the nurturing that Curt’s sister had done, she’d also had her moments of immaturity and anger. She still had some fuzzy memories of the event: a painting, a shattered mirror, a promise made on the doorstep and smeared lipstick. Insignificant things that gave rise to rage when ruined: she’d been smaller then - less important - yet infinitely happier. “I wish I didn’t have to take care of her. As it stands, I’m not going to throw my life away for hers.” Felicity’s voice fell away, and she pulled her cheeks into a smile with her one hand. “I knew your sister better than you, you know? I’ve known her twice. In many ways, she was more of a sister to me than she was to you.” Felicity chuckled into her palm. “Gosh, you tiny little people are so adorable. You know, your cheeks are very red right now. That's something we both would've found very, very cute.”

Courtesy, though she trembled and gritted her teeth, stayed back. Adam drew a long blade made of crystal: the secret wasn't out yet, apparently. “Surrender yourself and I'll make this quick. Or not: I'll end it in a minute or less either way.” She swivelled on her heel and looked to her side, staring Adam down over her shoulder. “Come on then, you thick bastard. I'll make tomato soup look put-together compared to you.” The steps beneath her shattered as she broke out into a sprint, raising her one arm over her head. Adam had already planned this out: there was almost nothing that Felicity could do at range, meaning that he and Courtesy would always have the advantage of being able to take the first shot. Having operated in this distorted, broken mess of a world for a while now, he'd come to intuitively understand it, if only a little. As soon as he'd entered the room he'd begun tracing lines through the air with his eyes, lining up shots before the opportunity to take them even arose. Felicity was coming at him head on, making his job rather easy. Both he and Courtesy raised their weapons: she wielded her rifle while he held up his revolver. It was a relatively weak weapon in comparison to the rest of his arsenal – he could summon flames and cannon from his pouch – but it was the one whose projectile was fastest, meaning it would give Felicity almost no time to react. He aimed far to his left, while his partner aimed slightly above the reaver's head. However, something glossy seemed to shine in the air beside her head. It was as if there was a reflective strand of spider's web next to her. Adam, even as he pulled the trigger, threw himself to the ground. Courtesy, whose eye was down her sights, didn't notice what he was doing nor why he'd done it. Felicity had plucked a clump of hairs out of her head and had tied them together, creating a long thread connected to her scalp which had been laced through several holes in the walls which she'd made with her fingers. The string led from her to the back of the room, then all over the roof and then behind a pillar. And what was behind that pillar, besides her arm? She'd fashioned it into a crude crossbow: the tough and flexible parts of her body provided the tension and her bones were the bow's boughs. And the projectiles? Her fingers, of course. Who wouldn't have seen that coming? But Courtesy had been sure to check every inch of the room for traps as they'd entered, viewing it from all angles by looking at the reflections in the crystals on the ground. But the bow was not in plain sight but rather, embedded inside the pillar itself. The only indication that it was there to begin with was a small black patch on its surface which the bow had been inserted into; the pillar was hollow. A simple, dark missile punched through the column's stony shell and lanced across the room. Felicity put down her rifle and turned her head only in time to see it pierce the flesh of her neck, passing through cleanly and coming out the other end alongside a pile of gory chunks. The force that Felicity's body could produce was immense. The impact alone would've been enough to put her out of commission, but the power of her blight added further to its destructive potential. The devil's flesh turned green and gangrenous wherever it touched the finger, poisoning her blood and riddling the meaty debris with rotten, infectious giblets. Her face and upper body were completely engulfed by the infection in an instant and her neck, now wet and malleable like putty, fell apart. Her head hung loose, connected to her body by only a spine and half a throat, and Courtesy fell over, collapsing in a heap. Adam dived for cover and sheathed himself in armour just soon enough that the finger missed him. The bloody discharge from his companion's neck, however, did not spare him. His shot went wild, and a magic slug burst from the barrel of his gun and ricocheted off the ground into a wall, whereupon it burst into flames and produced a mighty blast, shaking the subterranean(?) construction to its foundations. He dived onto the ground, formed springs from his elbows and flipped onto his front, charging right at the reaver. It was a tactical decision, not a foolhardy one. He'd known, as soon as Felicity's trap had been sprung, that she'd sacrificed her strength at close range in order to counteract his superiority at a distance. She, seeing that his weapon was just crystal, thought to herself that this would be an easy victory to seize, for Adam still hadn't learned the nature of her abilities.

The two clashed and Felicity reached up toward Adam's weapon in order to break the blade. It parted her arm like an axe would part a trunk of wood, slicing through the membrane between her middle and ring fingers, moving past her wrist joint with a prolonged squelch and crunch. She was halted in her tracks, dumbfounded. The two pulled back: Felicity to look at her broken limb in confusion and Adam to present the condition of his sword. Its surface had been annihilated by her disease, sure, but below its shiny exterior was a compacted prism of rusty razors, sand and broken electronics. Such things, which were already chaotic by nature, were hardly affected by her ability. Purple tendrils still spread through them, sure, but they did not fall apart nearly as readily as diamond. Tough crystals like that and adamantium were so vulnerable to her infection that weapons fashioned out of them were destroyed faster than they could cut her upon coming into contact with her skin. She tried to form a fist, but found that she could barely make her fingers twitch, let alone do anything requiring a modicum of dexterity. “Aren't you worried about your friend?” She asked, genuinely perplexed. “She'll live, unlike you.” Adam stated flatly. However, in spite of him seeming entirely nonplussed, she knew that his victory was nowhere near assured. His organs were messed up, and his skin was already beginning to waste away. She could see the beginnings of ulcers on his cheeks and the back of his hands: he was on a clock, perhaps an even faster one that Courtesy. She only needed to outlive him. He attacked out of the blue, sliding his foot forward and summoning a battery of muskets, hwacha and cannons behind himself. A volley of gunpowder projectiles came at her, and she was forced to jump high into the air, catching an iron shot as large as her head like it was a rugby ball by forcing her limp fingers into it, then twisting her body and throwing it back at her attacker. He formed a dome of acrylic glass, then produced a series of kegs filled with napalm all around said dome. They burst into flames, spraying glycerine and fat all across the room. Felicity, knowing that she would have no way of extinguishing herself if she were to catch fire, thrust her arm upward so that her hand embedded itself in the chapel's ceiling, finding purchase in the dome. She pulled herself up and planted her feet inside the rock. She was able to stand up straight, though upside down: her feet held themselves in place.

“You can't beat me,” she called out. “I systematically outperform you in every category. There's nothing you know that I don't – nothing you can do that I can't.” Adam did not deign to believe her prattling. He had better equipment, fewer injuries and far superior range. In an environment such as this, where bullets and arrows could be waylaid by the very bends and wefts in space itself, weapons such as snipers and pistols were almost entirely useless as they took far too long to aim, and snap-shots were certain to miss. However, it also meant that individual projectiles' trajectories were harder to gauge, meaning that barrages – such as those generated by hwacha and chainguns – were almost impossible to defend against directly. Even if Felicity had a shield, there was still a chance that at least one projectile would manage to weave its way past her defences and hit her. Thus, if he could immobilise her, he'd be able to finish the fight in seconds. She was the cornered one, not him. But his arm really stung, and his vision was cloudy. He was constantly just a little off balance, just a tiny bit ungrounded. He felt... lightheaded. It was tempting to try to gas the reaver to death, considering the enclosed space that they were in, but it'd be far too easy for her to break his mask if he attempted to pursue that tactic. For now, overwhelming firepower was the only safe course of attack that he could pursue. A mortar shell slammed into the section of the roof where Felicity stood, engulfing her in smoke. Shattered, blackened stone rained down al around him, shattering into chunks or dispersing into impotent, rotten ash. Adam expected Felicity to be gone once the smoke dispersed, but when it cleared up, he saw that she was still there, utterly unfazed. She put her hand on her face, gave him a short chuckle, and sank into the roof. She left a hole in the rock which bled a viscous ooze, thicker and more noxious than molasses. He erected concrete barriers around himself and kept low to the ground, looking all around himself. His extremities stung, and he pulled back his sleeve to reveal that Felicity's disease had eaten through the uppermost layer of his body. He could see his veins and muscles pulsating, exposed to the elements. They were covered in splotches of burgundy and lime, like sewage-stained pipes, and they reeked of old fish. A pressure built up in his head, his legs felt as if they were about to give way. His nerve turned to jelly, and he opened his mouth just a little to suck in a deep breath, feeling stifled and suffocated. The silence continued to build. The tension in the air built to a pitched frenzy, frenetic and vibrating to the tempo of a mad conductor: he couldn't breathe, he couldn't even think. What was he supposed to do? He tried to pull down his sleeve again but the interior of his coat rubbed against the naked flesh of his arm; the frayed cotton strands dug into the corners of his wound, causing him to wince in pain. His jaw dangled, and he his chest heaved with the effort of drawing breath. He took a step back and his foot sank into the ground with a loud splorch. He'd not noticed it before, but the whole church had slowly been falling apart. The walls were covered in vein-like stains, and the walls flaked away with just a touch. The floor was soft and had as much give as pudding. A horrible smell assailed his nose, and he staggered into a pillar while pressing his nose into his elbow. He sank into the rock. Startled, on the brink of yelping, he pulled away, but it was hard to do so: the stones themselves seemed to latch onto him and pull on his arm. He'd only just extracted himself when two charred, black appendages – Felicity's arms – reached through and caught him by the face and wrist. He summoned a brace to immobilise his neck, thinking that she was going to try to snap it, but instead she pulled him into the pillar. He was swallowed up by warm, moggy sludge. It was thick and slick as vegetable oil: it invaded every orifice, filling up his eyes, ears and nose. He couldn't hear, see or breathe anything but the slime. It burnt like vinegar or lye, and it was only by chance that he managed to make himself a knife and lash out, striking something in the dark. The grip around his head relented and he swam toward the edge of the pillar, pushing past the membrane between the stone and the outer world like a hatching chick. The barrier burst, and he fell through. Adam collapsed on the ground amidst a great pool of acid, coughing up phlegm and blood. His lungs, his throat, his whole body was on fire. When he opened his eyes, the world remained dark. When he sniffed the air, all he sensed was pain. All of his senses had been destroyed: all but one eardrum, which had miraculously survived. He was in a dark and nearly silent world, deprived of all his senses and left with only burning pain. The direness of his situation now surpassed all previous predicaments, he thought. Where had his nerve gone? He felt so choked, and afraid. His heart palpitated and writhed inside his own chest, worming its way toward his bowels as it sank under its own weight. He should've run away when he had the chance. Now, he was dead. Courtesy, too. He reached for the pouch by his side, only to find that there was nothing there. While he'd been drowning, Felicity had disarmed him.

“You're finished, Adam. But you did well.” Felicity's words were quiet yet unreserved. She didn't speak with the sadistic glee that she'd shown when they'd first entered the church, nor with the cool and manipulative tone she'd adopted in the manor. “I honestly wished that I wouldn't have to kill you. If you had just been a little weaker, a little less determined, I might've been able to save you.” He turned his head toward her. Her words caught on the broken air; they sounded ever so slightly wrong, even if just subtly. “This isn't over,” He declared. “For the love of your deity of choice, don't do this. I've won, there's nothing that you can do to me.” She was getting angry now; annoyed at his petulance. She paced toward him, footsteps echoing on the ground. The floor was still mushy under his feet, yet it sounded like she was walking on a hard surface. She had to be fairly distant. “I have your weapons, I've taken your senses: what could you possibly do now? I can see your kuncklebones through your wrist and your skull through your cheek. You can't possibly win.” Her feet transitioned from one surface to another. Her voice was louder now, and tinged with overconfidence. This wasn't a ruse, was it? Surely not. But he had to take a risk if he was to win. He spat out a wad of rotten flesh, taking a blackened and cavity-riddled tooth with it. “You see... that bag you took:” He heard her pulling it open, looking inside. Her next words were not made in shock or fear but rather apprehension. She already knew that she'd been caught in his web. “It was a decoy.” An iron harpoon shot through Adam's chest, bursting through the thin layer of skin covering his torso and struck something similarly fleshy. Felicity grunted, and her voice travelled across the room. There was a loud bang, and then the sound of ringing metal. Prosthetic eyes filled up Adam's sockets and artificial skin crawled over his body. “It's true that it was my original Aetheric Satchel, but the Aether within was capable of creating anything: even lesser Aetheric Satchels. So, I embedded one inside my own body, where you wouldn't be able to see it.” He eeached into his diseased arm and scooped out a handful of odious slime, tossing it onto the floor. “My Satchel is capable of creating objects but not replacing them. Before, when I hadn't been exposed to much of your disease, all it did was damage my organs and muscles beyond repair. However, after you dragged me into that pillar, you destroyed much of my flesh. Thus, you gave me the opportunity to replace much of it with advanced prosthetics. You helped me heal with that attack.” With his sight restored, he stared right at Felicity, was had been impaled through the heart and was stuck on the wall. Dozens of iron barbs dug into her skin, pinning her to that spot. Her remaining arm was draped across it, but it did not seem to burn through. “There is a thin cord connecting that harpoon to me. To be perfectly honest, I got the idea from you.” Adam raised his hand to reveal that there was a single iron thread between his wrist and the harpoon. “That means that I can continue to repair and grow the weapon even as you destroy it. You can't break free.” He jabbed a finger at her: “you've lost, Felic-... Felicity.” Before, he'd thought that his head had spun simply because he'd been afraid. However, now, despite his overwhelming victory, his heart still thumped inside his chest, and an overwhelming, all-consuming feeling of dread still lingered in his mind. Something nagged at him; there was something terribly wrong with this situation, yet he couldn't tell what it was.

Felicity knew, and she locked eyes with Adam as he doubled over, suddenly straining to speak and breathe. “Did you think that my arrogance was an excuse for you to gloat when you believed that you won? You fell into the same trap that I did. The whole time that I've been in this room, I've been breaking down the air, Adam. I've been turning individual oxygen atoms into nitrogen atoms, turning O2 molecules into nitric oxide.” Symptoms: respiratory cramping, difficulty breathing, asphyxiation, unconsciousness, death. “And don't bother trying to fill the room with oxygen: I can break it down faster than you can produce it, and the more you produce, the more the pressure inside this room will rise. You'd need to subject yourself to pressures similar to those at the heart of a thermobaric explosion to survive.” He choked and wheezed, spittle flying from his lips. His whole face turned blue. He was already too weak to stand; he knelt and hacked, finding it impossible to even draw breath. His lungs felt permanently full., yet he was still suffocating. “I'll take you with me, then!” He wheezed, and a great lump of metal migrated from his wrist down the thread, merging with the harpoon. It grew limbs of razor blades and hooks which it used to cut into and constrict around Felicity, ripping into her. Barbed wire slid underneath her eyelids and went through her eyes, impaling them like marshmallows on sticks. “Too little, too late. I can turn glucose into trinitrotoluene: TNT! And the pure nitrogen molecules in the air? I've been converting those into hydrogen. This whole room is a powder keg!” She looked at Adam like a hunter might look at a stag that they just felled. “You admitted yourself that you couldn't destroy anything that you'd created: this iron cocoon will serve as my shield. The explosion will kill you before you can finish me off.” She bit into her arm, which had adopted a strange white texture, and spat it at Adam. He knew, just by looking at it, what had happened. All of the hydrocarbons in the limb had been turned into plastic explosives and volatile compounds: Felicity had done so by sundering protons, neutrons and electrons from atoms, and by destroying the bonds within molecules. She was a chemical factory, and she had just converted her arm into five kilograms of some of the most explosive substances known to man. She melted and sank into the wall, and the fuse that she'd set – a lump of pure rubidium – sparked and detonated. “Courtesy!” He screamed before a terrific blast tore through him; chunks of rock punched holes in him as wide as softballs, spreading him like jam on the walls. The whole structure, weakened by Felicity's blight, collapsed and buried both him and the still-living Courtesy, whose head was crushed by a falling stone. And Felicity, both entombed and protected by the earth, began to swim upwards through the rock. She had no arms, but her legs were more than sufficient when it came to both combat and mobility. She couldn't but feel, however, that things could've gone differently. She regretted having to kill those two. They'd ostensibly had the same goals as she once had championed: the preservation of reality. She shook the doubts from her mind. Her present goal, to give her former comrades proper burials rather than leaving their cadavers to be studied by AEGIS and their wandering minds – leftovers of the reavers' psionic network – to decay was selfish, she knew that. And if she was to pursue selfish goals, then selfless ones – such as saving the world – would have to wait. She no longer abided by duty or responsibility, she was ruled by sentiment. And perhaps, as Kim's choices had suggested, she'd turn out to be happier that way.

Seeds of Anxiety | Avarice and Tone

Avarice, rather than taking the obvious route and pulling the pens out of Herbert's mouth, waved her hand and gave him a new mouth on the side of his cheek, allowing him to hold pens and speak at the same time. After all, wouldn't it be rude to take the pens out of his mouth? Surely, that was considered to be a petty form of theft. ”Oh, no, I'm the one who asked Valerian to help me! And as is typical of all sentient organisms, when I presented him with a request made by an entity so powerful that it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that he was less than nothing in comparison to it, he was in no position to refuse!” Her response was rather startling, since she said it before Herbert asked why Ava and Vale were apparently working together. ”Wait, did I just create a predestination paradox? Quickly, Herbert, repeat after me: “Why is she with you? I thought you wish to terminate her?”” Valerian allowed himself a long-suffering, almost-smile. He wasn't happy with his current situation nor was he trusting of Avarice, not by a long shot, but he'd come to, at the very least, tolerate her presence and her peculiarities. ”Well, I thought that she'd be less likely to start murdering people as long as I kept her occupied. I'm not sure if she's capable of abiding by an ethical code yet – or at least, if I'm capable of making her do such a thing – but either way, trying to kill her won't get us anywhere.” As soon as Herbert brought up the topic of food, Ava grabbed him by the shoulder, turned him around and pointed her finger at a distant, baroque silhouette. ”Let's go to The Avarice!”



The Avarice had a certain aura about it. It was homely yet grand, resplendent yet contained. Lush carpet bedecked the floor, backed by heavy timber hewn from trees grown on the ectoplasm of wraiths, making the group feel as if they were treading on clouds. The threads had been gathered from the shores of the river of Lethe, meaning that just looking at them soothed ones nerves and made them forget their worries. The walls were adorned with plaster and various ornaments: goats' skulls mounted on wooden boards, lovingly rendered paintings of the Infernal Countryside – fields of razor barley that shone with a blood red gleam, forests of upside down trees whose fruit were occupied nooses, oceans of magma and a horizon of beautiful glass formations, pale as moonlight and green as emerald – drawn on radioactive canvas that made each and every painting pop and sparkle, hooks from which legitimate artifacts of Hell hung such as famous scrolls and tools, and so on and so forth. The roof was made of marble and reigned high above their heads. Transparent glass chandeliers hung by golden chains, so clear and untarnished that it appeared as if the candles that they held were floating. One of the walls was taken up by a row of stained glass windows depicting various different scenes from an epic poem written about the rise of the current generation of demonic royalty: they depicted the casting down of Lilith the rise of Mephistopheles and the crowning of Lucifer as the new Infernal prince. Lucifer was not a person but a title: a name adopted by whoever stood atop the hierarchy of Hell. The tables were each made of black and purple glass and the tablecloths were made of billions upon billions of gemstones – amethyst, diamond, topaz – knitted together like the scales of a fish: they were so small and so fine that altogether, they felt and behaved like fabric rather than sheets of tough gemstones; they had an ocean blue hue so rich and deep that Valerian was certain that no natural pigment could replicate that shade of blue. And they glistered, scintillating under the light of the chandeliers. All of this was visible just from the front desk, where a young girl stood behind the counter. She had blonde hair and pigtails, and her eyes were yellow as sulphur. She wore a red velvet coat and a paper-thin stole weaved from Phlegethian silk: thank god, for if any more had been woven into the scarf then it would've blinded Herbert just to look at it. ”Hi, can I have a table for three, please?” Valerian queried. The girl stood there, impassive. ”Hello? Can you hear me?” Avarice laid a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back. She put her hands together in front of her waist and did a short bow. ”Ilisceravit non cuncbilit haielivus morio. Lestrum daugauba arreviro?” The girl stepped out from behind the counter, revealing that she cast thirteen shadows in a ring around herself, each of which was apparently unaffected by how bright the environment was around her. None of the shadows looked like they belonged to her, and each one clawed at themselves, writhing and silently shrieking. She brought them to a table near the windowed wall, and Vale good a good glimpse at what lay beyond. There was a meadow of fires, each of which looked like a flower. However, the stems were bright blue and the petals were incandescent flame. There was no sun in the sky, but there were countless stars of varying shapes and sizes: some shaped like eyes, some shaped like diamonds. It was a startlingly beautiful scene, so much so that he hardly noticed that the girl had poured him a cup of odourless golden tea. Its surface had a metallic lustre to it that was even more captivating and even more inviting than the glint of polished jewellery. Their cutlery was laid out: all of it was formed from a strange white metal that was at once transparent and utterly opaque. It was weightless in his hand, and he picked up a fork made from the substance and dragged it across the pad of his index finger. It sliced through his skin effortlessly and painlessly, drawing a bead of golden blood. He was able to identify it by its density: silver. The cutlery was pure silver, honed to such a fine edge that it could slice through his flesh. A bouquet of flowers was laid in the center of their table - it was composed of roses that looked as if they had been carved from the night sky itself - alongside a green bottle whose surface was inlaid with gold and brass. The sherry within would've put every terrestrial wine maker to shame, and have reduced sommeliers to tears if only it weren't lethal to nearly every creature under the sun (and quite a few that weren't). There were no other customers in, so it seemed that they were going to receive the house's finest treatment. The girl, whose footsteps made no sound and whose clothes did not ruffle no matter how much she strutted about, brought them wineglasses whose curves were so perfect, so physically flawless that they both hurt and titillated to look at. Avarice had a short conversation with the girl: all payments in The Galleria were made via stories, and she seemed to be telling the girl the story of her own death. ”... and so you jump out the window, but it's too late. The train arrives, and it traps your legs against the wall. Your femurs burst, the wallaby leaps out of your ear and you...” The glare that the girl shot Valerian was enough to get him to stop listening in on them. One had to be very careful with who they told stories to here: if two people heard the same story, the value of that story would be halved. Thus, eavesdropping was not only social taboo, but a crime that one could be persecuted for, not unlike theft or fraud.

Avarice clapped her hands and the girl turned briskly on her heel, going to fetch what she'd ordered on the other two's behalves. ”I've placed all your orders! It's my treat. Anyway, how do you feel about this place, Vale? I hope it doesn't disappoint you!” He was... unsure of how to respond. He searched for the right words, but eventually had to settle for an answer that, while truthful, was also inadequate in explaining his emotions, in his opinion. ”It's rather pleasant. Overdecorated, perhaps. Maybe we should've chosen a less classy establishment to visit? I'm unsure of how I should behave. I feel underdressed in a place like this.” ”Don't worry. This is the lowest of the seven floors. I would've been sent to the seventh floor if not for the fact that Herbert would've gone mad before we'd even arrived at the second.” ”And what floor would I have been sent to if I'd come alone?” ”Hmm... third or fourth, I'd say.” Damn, he thought. What kind of patrons did this establishment cater to? The girl returned soon thereafter with their entre: Cetean (as in, harvested from Cetus, not from a dolphin) steak garnished with biologically soluble, non-toxic sulphur. The girl was clearly displeased at having to dilute her recipes, but she was willing to do so for the sake of courting Avarice's favour It wasn't every day that she had an opportunity to deal with, and potentially establish a business relationship with someone of such power. The steak was covered in fat and stewed in a pool of its own juices, which smelled, well... heavenly, as inappropriate as it seemed to use that adjective here. It was served alongside a batch of bitter purple leaves, blue caviar (which was an increasingly expensive food product, since Charybdis had gone infertile over five centuries ago) and a series of optional condiments such as volcanic ash, shredded legal documents, 'cream of AAAAAAAAAAAAAA' and coriander (by far the least appetising one in Valerian's opinion). Valerian took a sip of his tea just to warm himself up and had to hastily put it back down and cover his face with his elbow. He had to physically refrain from shuddering: the euphoria spreading throughout his body was so pure, so overwhelming that it felt like his veins had been filled with fire ants – in a good way, or at least, a metaphorical bad way. ”So,” He began as their host set down a plate of various conceptual sushis and soul-infused leadsticks down in front of them, ”Why are we here? I didn't receive many details in my summons.”

Meanwhile, someone staggered into town. Her face was gaunt and her limbs were torn up. She was haggard, exhausted and bleeding from her shoulders, for her arms were missing and her face was matted in her own blood. With only one good eye she surveyed her surroundings and began to shamble through the streets, searching for help of any kind.
Last edited by Menschenfleisch on Tue Nov 12, 2019 10:41 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Skylus
Negotiator
 
Posts: 6510
Founded: Oct 25, 2016
Democratic Socialists

Postby Skylus » Thu Nov 14, 2019 6:10 am

TGWR
AEGIS Base, Unknown location


"Did you forget that I don't have to move to be able to use magic, Polly? I have telepathic magic, remember?" It appeared that Madi had possibly forgotten there were more than twenty other people/creatures that were standing around her. Perhaps it was for the best that she had seemed to have forgotten. The Witch/Ghoul wordeslly tried to wake up Johaan with Revenerate, then followed that up with Imperio. "You will get up, disarm Polly, take us to the vault, allow everyone to get their weapons back, then let all of us escape."
Last edited by Skylus on Thu Nov 14, 2019 6:11 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Menschenfleisch
Diplomat
 
Posts: 766
Founded: Nov 01, 2017
Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Menschenfleisch » Thu Nov 14, 2019 2:45 pm

The Great Wizarding War | Polly and Kiara

Kiara tapped Madi on the shoulder: "Hey, why didn't you just use that on Polly? What the hell Is Johann going to do?" Madi's open admission that she was about to try to mind control someone was all the warning Polly needed to slam the ghoul's mouth shut. "I just said that you were free to go! Why do you need Johann to be awake?!" She let go of the group, doing so rather tentatively in Madi's case. "Get going I need to end the post now lmao"

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Naval Monte
Postmaster-General
 
Posts: 13807
Founded: Sep 04, 2014
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Naval Monte » Thu Nov 14, 2019 4:43 pm

The Great Wizarding War

Seeing Johann surrounded by so many anomalies made the commander anxious as he waited for the right time to strike. Looking at the AR display for the progress on the other team the immortal was wishing for them to move faster. "The director is getting up." One of the soldiers whispered. Sure enough Jin saw the site director getting up.

Johann felt an unbearable light hitting his face, blurred colors and shapes surrounding him as his consciousness slowly returning back to reality. "What happened?" he thought as he was about to get up. Suddenly a fog came over his mind, the light and clarity that was resting being washed away by a shadow and calmness. He can feel a compulsion coming over him yet in the tranquil calm he was feeling he dare not resist it as he would normally do. He embraced the command.

With the few parts of his mind still functioning he turn to face Polly. The director knew she had no weapons, she herself was the weapon. The director looked at Polly with a blank expression as he lunge out to strangle her. While she might have let everyone go the compulsion of the order still made him follow through the first order. 

Seeing Johann awaken and than immediately attack Polly confused the troops. "The hell? I thought he convinced that mad woman to work for us?" One of the soldiers whispered in surprised. Jin looked at the video in confusion as well, wondering why he would suddenly attack the woman he just recently made into an ally. Jin soon recalled back how the mages in this world had illusion spells and even spells that can affect the memory like erasing memories, induce sleep or compelling people to ignore places. He remembers one spell that can make one control the mind of another.

Jin's eyes widen when he realizes what was happening. "The director has been compromised! One of them has mind control him. We have to either rescue or neutralize him before he can help them further." Jin told the other soldiers. Jin would soon hear the voice of Athena be heard from his PSI-Link along with the others. "This is troubling news. I'm afraid things have to come down to this." The soldiers heard the Oracle sigh.

"I'm authorizing contingency order 65. I hereby rule that Site Director, Johann Liebert Ramsus, is unfit to issue orders nor to run his station. I hereby order for his immediate arrest and detainment, with lethal force if necessary, and command of the site shall fall to the acting site director or chief of security in the event of a containment breach, or to the acting Oracle of the site should none if the two previous authorities either not be present or refuse to take the mantle of responsibility." 

The AI told the group. Jin sighed in frustration at the turn of events. He knew Athena was writing for his response. "What are your orders ma'am?" The AI was quick to respond. "Johann is under the influence of a spell so his actions are not his own. We need to rescue him before they can make him issue any orders or sabotage the facility. You are to use any means to save him and should save him be impossible only then do you all have permission to terminate him." 

The AI told them. "I trust in judgement on finding the most effective solution to this problem commander. We can not afford failure." The AI warned. Jin almost sarcastically made a comment about there being no pressure but decided to stay silent, he wasn't going go test the AI's patience with dumb jokes. The commander looked at his troops.

"You four follow me cloak. I'm gonna try diplomacy. But I need you guys to cover for me encase things go to shit. Throw some bombs or flashbangs to distract them and the rest will come in to takeout the enemy. Hopefully the other team will arrive by then." The team needed as four of them turn invisible as Jin walked out.

He had his dual machine guns out encase anyone tried to attack him on sight. Once he was visible the tengu look as though he was ready to charge in but stopped once Jin had both his guns aim at the group. " I wouldn't try anything funny, especially since all I want is to talk." He told the group. "We want the director back to normal and in our custody. We are willing to listen to your demands if these are reasonable enough." He told the group.

The tengu would turn to Madi. "This feels like a trap. Don't listen to that human ghoul. Use the director as a hostage so we can get our stuff and leave this terrible place." 
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