The Fall of Elfen High (IC, Closed)

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Quixote's leg now hurt as Set glanced at him with curiosity. "What the hell are you even doing here?" muttered Set curiously, punching Quixote once in the chest.

Lukas glared at Set, then looked at the others. "Leave him to me." he ordered. "You go inside the Castle and find Ganesh." He readied his sword, charging at Set, who ran toward him as well, his own sword now materialising.

Quixote muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "Go fuck yourself" in Pashto.

He then produced a lance, seemingly from nowhere, and sighed; Rocinante was long dead by now, and with no steed, this business would be much more difficult.

That is, until he glanced at the dragon, then at Lewis. Lewis shrugged.

With that, Lewis produced a massive bat of ice and smashed the dragon with all his strength, sending it barreling towards Don Quixote. The old hidalgo smiled and jumped into the air, aiming to mount his new steed.

Look, if I'm going to be completely honest, Quixote should most probably be dead right now. He's not remotely a plot important character, he joined as a joke, and the action he's committing is unbelievably stupid, logically speaking.

But fuck if I'm going to deny this.

Don Quixote had now jumped upon the dragon, who was shaking off the attack from Lewis' ice bat.

He rode upon a very pissed dragon who was spinning in the air, desperately trying to remove the Spaniard.

[Nationstatelandsville]

Look, if I'm going to be completely honest, Quixote should most probably be dead right now. He's not remotely a plot important character, he joined as a joke, and the action he's committing is unbelievably stupid, logically speaking.

But fuck if I'm going to deny this.

Don Quixote had now jumped upon the dragon, who was shaking off the attack from Lewis' ice bat.

He rode upon a very pissed dragon who was spinning in the air, desperately trying to remove the Spaniard.

Quixote clamped his legs around the beast's waist and bent forward; he raised his lance.

Under his breath, he muttered a prayer;
"Padre nuestro que estás en los cielos,
santificado sea tu nombre.
Venga tu reino,
hágase tu voluntad,
en la tierra como en el cielo.
Danos hoy nuestro pan de cada día,
y perdónanos nuestras deudas,
como también nosotros perdonamos a nuestros deudores.
Y no nos dejes caer en la tentación,
y líbranos del mal."

He dug his heels into the dragon's flesh; this, of course, meant "go". No, not just "go" - "go, go enow, go right the fuck now". To help the dragon along, he shifted his weight forward and let out a hellish cry; and so he flew towards Set.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Set's fists and feet where evidently powerful if they could kill a man with a single blow, but the monsters seemed to ignore such an obvious fact as they charged at the Egyptian with a relentlessness that was as though they were, in fact... Panicked, so to speak. The ones that arrived to protect Lyra from their unexpected visitor attacked Set with everything they had. Claws and maws, and vile burning bile, and everything else the girl had thought of putting in her creations, was being used to hold the Egyptian at bay so that it would not hurt her. This, it seemed, was their primary goal, their only goal at the moment, perhaps. For obvious reasons, not all of the monsters were there, as some still had to stand their grounds and hold back the human Fae thralls, since most members of the group seemed to be directing their attention towards Set himself or the black dragon that had been summoned, but they all seemed to work towards the same simple goal.

Lyra, herself, stood up, still idly rubbing the cheek Set had hit as she watched him be shot in the head and get tackled to the ground by a particularly large beast of a creature, with several fists across its body. Other monsters of different makes and sizes began piling up on the Egyptian deity so as to impede its movement if they could. All the while, they contined trying to damage the God in order to ultimately stop it from being able to try to hurt her again, if that was even possible to accomplish. But as they did this, the girl merely watched.

"Who are you?" She finally asked.

Gwen gently stepped before Lyra, putting an arm between her and the beasts. "Girl, it's better if you leave the questions to me and step back. I don't trust that masked man and I'd prefer if you took a safe distance from him while your beasts, that Spanish old man and me keep him at bay. Understood? Do you agree?" the Queen said, in a calm tone, keeping her eyes on Set and brandishing Excalibur in her right hand.

"My name is Set." replied the Egyptian God at last, grabbing the beast's head with several fist with his bare hand. He crushed it with his hand, the skull of the creature being destroyed with a crunch. More black smoke floated upwards, joining with the dragon.

Quixote's leg now hurt as Set glanced at him with curiosity. "What the hell are you even doing here?" muttered Set curiously, punching Quixote once in the chest.

Lukas glared at Set, then looked at the others. "Leave him to me." he ordered. "You go inside the Castle and find Ganesh." He readied his sword, charging at Set, who ran toward him as well, his own sword now materialising.

Gwen quickly shifted her tone to an alert one. "Change of plans! Let's get into that castle before that masked scoundrel catches up with us!" the British queen yelled, while rushing next to Quixote and grabbing him, bringing him away from the battlefield. "Are you alright, señor?"

Gabriel grabbed Gwen, ignoring his injuries, and telepathically grabbed many of the rest of the group (the ones who wanted to come along, anyway) and flew them all quickly to the Castle of Glass, dropping them just outside the entrance it when he collapsed. At least he had gotten them past the moat, and now they looked up at the imposing door, which seemed to be made of a material visually similar to ice, but otherwise more like iron.

"Alright." he said, gasping. "I got us here. You break in now." he grasped his wounds, wincing at the throbbing pain there. "And let's retrieve Ganesh quickly, yeah?"

Merlin looked at the door, blasting it with fire, burning a slight hole into it. After the other characters helped expand it with their own powers, they walked through slowly.

They found themselves in a very decorated hall, flags of Albion hanging everywhere, guardsmen standing at attention (though their features could not be seen behind their armour), a red carpet on the ground leading to a crowned man sitting on a throne.

Perhaps they would recognise this man from Elfen High's libraries and their resources. Perhaps some of them remembered him from elsewhere. The man sat on the throne, but evidently not overly pleased about just where he sat.

For one, his arms were nailed down to the throne with spikes. King Arthur looked at the group. "Well, well. What have we here?" he asked, sounding saddened and weary. "Merlin? What is happening now?"

"My lord Arthur." said Merlin, a slight bow. "I am sorry to see you in such a state."

Arthur gave a thin smile. "It is fine. I can't do a thing about it now, can I?" he asked. He frowned, burrowing his brows. "You need to get out of here quickly, Merlin." he warned. "The Faery King knows you are here. He will be here soon, and he will do his absolute best to destroy you here and now, with no regard of the consequences."

Gabriel frowned at Arthur. "I'm sorry, what the fuck is this?"

"Simple." Arthur sighed. "I'm a prisoner here. Held captive by the Lords and Ladies. I don't expect I'll ever escape their captivity now, in my current state."

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Lyra, being carried along towards the castle, felt herself be instantly transported elsewhere, and noticed that she was now on the other side of the moat surrounding the castle, in front of the entrance. She looked at the door, and then back, and noticed that her monsters were still on the other side. She thought of what to do, not wanting to leave them behind as they could be useful in their mission to liberate Ganesh, but it didn't seem like there was a whole lot she could do. Suddenly, though, one of the creatures, a winged one, arrived, bearing one of her emergency pads. She had given one to pretty much every one of her creatures, and with good reason, as she wasn't very useful without one and she was perfectly aware of that.

With her newly acquired tool, the girl drew another bridge next to the original one, allowing the creatures that couldn't fly to reach the entrance. She had briefly thought of drawing wings on every single one of them instead, but she figured that this was easier and not quite as time- or energy-consuming, so after watching them all arrive she turned back to the entrance to see how exactly they were going to break in. It seemed Merlin and the others had taken care of that already, though. The hole in the entrance was now large enough for humans to step through, though now that she thought about it, some of her creatures were bigger than that, and so, Lyra found herself in the necessity of drawing the entrance, but with a bigger hole in it, in order to let them through.

After that, she followed the others into the castle, seeing the banners and guardsmen that adorned the halls, before directing her gaze towards the man sitting in the throne, with his arms nailed down to it. She found that to be a curious scene, a prisoner king or some such, which was confirmed when Merlin referred to the man as "My lord Arthur", indicating that he was King Arthur, something she wouldn't really have been able to tell otherwise, as she didn't recognize the man.

"Why is it that you don't think you can escape? It's not just because of the nails, is it?" She asked the nailed king.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Look, if I'm going to be completely honest, Quixote should most probably be dead right now. He's not remotely a plot important character, he joined as a joke, and the action he's committing is unbelievably stupid, logically speaking.

But fuck if I'm going to deny this.

Don Quixote had now jumped upon the dragon, who was shaking off the attack from Lewis' ice bat.

He rode upon a very pissed dragon who was spinning in the air, desperately trying to remove the Spaniard.

Quixote clamped his legs around the beast's waist and bent forward; he raised his lance.

Under his breath, he muttered a prayer;
"Padre nuestro que estás en los cielos,
santificado sea tu nombre.
Venga tu reino,
hágase tu voluntad,
en la tierra como en el cielo.
Danos hoy nuestro pan de cada día,
y perdónanos nuestras deudas,
como también nosotros perdonamos a nuestros deudores.
Y no nos dejes caer en la tentación,
y líbranos del mal."

He dug his heels into the dragon's flesh; this, of course, meant "go". No, not just "go" - "go, go enow, go right the fuck now". To help the dragon along, he shifted his weight forward and let out a hellish cry; and so he flew towards Set.

The very pissed off dragon was forced toward Set, who looked up in astonishment. The dragon itself also looked rather amazed, smashing into the Egyptian God.

Lyra, being carried along towards the castle, felt herself be instantly transported elsewhere, and noticed that she was now on the other side of the moat surrounding the castle, in front of the entrance. She looked at the door, and then back, and noticed that her monsters were still on the other side. She thought of what to do, not wanting to leave them behind as they could be useful in their mission to liberate Ganesh, but it didn't seem like there was a whole lot she could do. Suddenly, though, one of the creatures, a winged one, arrived, bearing one of her emergency pads. She had given one to pretty much every one of her creatures, and with good reason, as she wasn't very useful without one and she was perfectly aware of that.

With her newly acquired tool, the girl drew another bridge next to the original one, allowing the creatures that couldn't fly to reach the entrance. She had briefly thought of drawing wings on every single one of them instead, but she figured that this was easier and not quite as time- or energy-consuming, so after watching them all arrive she turned back to the entrance to see how exactly they were going to break in. It seemed Merlin and the others had taken care of that already, though. The hole in the entrance was now large enough for humans to step through, though now that she thought about it, some of her creatures were bigger than that, and so, Lyra found herself in the necessity of drawing the entrance, but with a bigger hole in it, in order to let them through.

After that, she followed the others into the castle, seeing the banners and guardsmen that adorned the halls, before directing her gaze towards the man sitting in the throne, with his arms nailed down to it. She found that to be a curious scene, a prisoner king or some such, which was confirmed when Merlin referred to the man as "My lord Arthur", indicating that he was King Arthur, something she wouldn't really have been able to tell otherwise, as she didn't recognize the man.

"Why is it that you don't think you can escape? It's not just because of the nails, is it?" She asked the nailed king.

"I'm trapped by the Lords and Ladies, young girl. They have other things stopping me from leaving." he said. "Please, you must hurry. Go down to the basement here. The Prisoner, Ganesh, is there."

[Nationstatelandsville]

Sir William smiled grimly as Daniel blasted the cherub off the top of the mountain. That would kill most other creatures, but he knew the heavenspawn was a tough abomination, and underestimating its ability to survive was a terrible mistake.

"Well, thanks for that, sir," Nilark said with genuine gratitude, gazing down the slope towards the site where the cherub had crashed. His hands glowed white for a few moments before he flung yet another radiant blast down at his foe . "Now, I'm off to get my sword back."

With that, the knight began sprinting down the mountainside, casting more magic attacks as he went, determined not to let the cherub regenerate its way out of death. The last person to nick Excalibur was John Asscrack-houn, and he had nearly lopped his head off. William wasn't going to let this thief get away with the misdeed; no stupid smoke and mask nonsense would steal his justice.

William found the cherub sprawled out on the ground, unconscious; it took shallow breaths and its eyes danced desperately about under his eyelid. A tree, shattered, had fallen down upon its gut.

The question now was how to get the sword out of it.

---

"That boy isn't very smart," Lewis observed dryly, "Look, I don't 'bout ye' guys, but I say we just go on ahead without him."

"Men die in war," Aziraphale said, "and that is no man. Mr. Crowley?"

"Yeah, Anthony," Lewis said, "You're in charge here."

"Anthony?" Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, "I thought his name was Lenny."

"Oh. Sorry, Lenny."

The very pissed off dragon was forced toward Set, who looked up in astonishment. The dragon itself also looked rather amazed, smashing into the Egyptian God."

Lances traditionally hurt quite badly; though not typically the owner.

As such, Don Quixote's surprise was palpable as his lance shattered on Set's armor, and the resultant force was thrown backwards into his arm; that awful sound he heard, he assumed, was his shoulder being torn. Matters weren't much helped when he was cast from the dragon and into the dirt, sliding across the ground on the wounded shoulder.

With a huff and a groan, he forced himself onto his feet. This hurt. A lot. This couldn't do - he was injured, crippled, and moreover had no weapon with which to defend himself. What had ever happened to shields? He could at least bash Set's skull in with that.

He needed some way to protect himself from further harm. But how?

It should now be mentioned that Quixote, during his time in Kabul, had seen a bad Pashto dub of The Empire Strikes Back. He may not have fully understood all of its plot points.

"Dragón!" he suddenly laughed.

Long story short; that is how Don Quixote decided to jump into the mouth of an angry smoke-dragon and force himself into its throat.

[Nude East Ireland]

Lyra, being carried along towards the castle, felt herself be instantly transported elsewhere, and noticed that she was now on the other side of the moat surrounding the castle, in front of the entrance. She looked at the door, and then back, and noticed that her monsters were still on the other side. She thought of what to do, not wanting to leave them behind as they could be useful in their mission to liberate Ganesh, but it didn't seem like there was a whole lot she could do. Suddenly, though, one of the creatures, a winged one, arrived, bearing one of her emergency pads. She had given one to pretty much every one of her creatures, and with good reason, as she wasn't very useful without one and she was perfectly aware of that.

With her newly acquired tool, the girl drew another bridge next to the original one, allowing the creatures that couldn't fly to reach the entrance. She had briefly thought of drawing wings on every single one of them instead, but she figured that this was easier and not quite as time- or energy-consuming, so after watching them all arrive she turned back to the entrance to see how exactly they were going to break in. It seemed Merlin and the others had taken care of that already, though. The hole in the entrance was now large enough for humans to step through, though now that she thought about it, some of her creatures were bigger than that, and so, Lyra found herself in the necessity of drawing the entrance, but with a bigger hole in it, in order to let them through.

After that, she followed the others into the castle, seeing the banners and guardsmen that adorned the halls, before directing her gaze towards the man sitting in the throne, with his arms nailed down to it. She found that to be a curious scene, a prisoner king or some such, which was confirmed when Merlin referred to the man as "My lord Arthur", indicating that he was King Arthur, something she wouldn't really have been able to tell otherwise, as she didn't recognize the man.

"Why is it that you don't think you can escape? It's not just because of the nails, is it?" She asked the nailed king.

"I'm trapped by the Lords and Ladies, young girl. They have other things stopping me from leaving." he said. "Please, you must hurry. Go down to the basement here. The Prisoner, Ganesh, is there."

Damien farted.

"It's always Ganesh, isn't it?" he asked. "Seriously? He isn't the only god of wisdom right? I mean, what the fuck? But yeah, sure we'll get him."

Damien held his sword. He wanted to use this weapon. A lot. Hopefully he would sometime soon. He also needed to get home. Back to his time, back to his house. That would be good. He smiled.

"Yeah, let's go get Arthur. Sounds like a good idea. Before some dragons pop up and eat us."

[Nude East Ireland]

Anton ran up to the Cherub and looked at William.

"Hold back, son, I've got your sword," he said in a calm tone. He flicked his hand and moved the tree so that he could leap onto the Cherub. He examined the beast and then decided his best move would be to jam his hand into the goddamned thing's fucking stomach as hard as he could to rip it open.

[Nationstatelandsville]

Anton ran up to the Cherub and looked at William.

"Hold back, son, I've got your sword," he said in a calm tone. He flicked his hand and moved the tree so that he could leap onto the Cherub. He examined the beast and then decided his best move would be to jam his hand into the goddamned thing's fucking stomach as hard as he could to rip it open.

Anton felt his arm begin to be sucked inside the beast's belly.

Drowning in cherubic flesh, one assumes, is an undesirable prospect to be presented with.

[Nude East Ireland]

Anton ran up to the Cherub and looked at William.

"Hold back, son, I've got your sword," he said in a calm tone. He flicked his hand and moved the tree so that he could leap onto the Cherub. He examined the beast and then decided his best move would be to jam his hand into the goddamned thing's fucking stomach as hard as he could to rip it open.

Anton felt his arm begin to be sucked inside the beast's belly.

Drowning in cherubic flesh, one assumes, is an undesirable prospect to be presented with.

Anton looked at William and shrugged. "They'll probably sing a song about this someday. Make sure it's good."

Then, taking a deep breath, Anton decided to push himself further into the Cherub's belly in order to retrieve the sword. He lit a fire with his hand, with hopes to burn his way through - or, at the very least, see something resembling a sword.

[Nationstatelandsville]

Anton felt his arm begin to be sucked inside the beast's belly.

Drowning in cherubic flesh, one assumes, is an undesirable prospect to be presented with.

Anton looked at William and shrugged. "They'll probably sing a song about this someday. Make sure it's good."

Then, taking a deep breath, Anton decided to push himself further into the Cherub's belly in order to retrieve the sword. He lit a fire with his hand, with hopes to burn his way through - or, at the very least, see something resembling a sword.

It was now that the cherub was fully confident in its victory, at least over this tiny idiot.

But the cherub failed to understand a key maxim of the Omniverse, first documented in the mid-1300's when William the Conqueror ramped the English channel on a motorcycle to "Carry On My Wayward Son", thus taking control of Wessex. That maxim, referred to by the academic community as the "Seward principle", is as follows -

s = n * p^a + m

- wherein "s" represents the likelihood of success of any given action in terms of percentage, "n" is equivalent to the natural awesomeness of any given action (see the Schrodinger Ballsy-Actions Equation for reference), "p" signifying the natural probability of an action occurring, "a" the awesomeness factor of the person attempting this action (see the Roosevelt Index of Badassed Men and Women), and "m" the total value of mustache of all perpetrators and any on-lookers.

Which is to say, the cherub quickly burst into flames and Anton grabbed Excalibur.

[Astrolinium]

"I'm trapped by the Lords and Ladies, young girl. They have other things stopping me from leaving." he said. "Please, you must hurry. Go down to the basement here. The Prisoner, Ganesh, is there."

Damien farted.

"It's always Ganesh, isn't it?" he asked. "Seriously? He isn't the only god of wisdom right? I mean, what the fuck? But yeah, sure we'll get him."

Damien held his sword. He wanted to use this weapon. A lot. Hopefully he would sometime soon. He also needed to get home. Back to his time, back to his house. That would be good. He smiled.

"Yeah, let's go get Arthur. Sounds like a good idea. Before some dragons pop up and eat us."

"I dunno," said Caspian, holding his sword at an angle that allowed him to admire it more fully. "Death-by-dragon is certainly more noble than, say, death-by-bedpan. And certainly, I'm sure we'd all stand a fighting chance."

He grinned madly, from ear-to-ear. "Let's go."

[Nude East Ireland]

Anton looked at William and shrugged. "They'll probably sing a song about this someday. Make sure it's good."

Then, taking a deep breath, Anton decided to push himself further into the Cherub's belly in order to retrieve the sword. He lit a fire with his hand, with hopes to burn his way through - or, at the very least, see something resembling a sword.

It was now that the cherub was fully confident in its victory, at least over this tiny idiot.

But the cherub failed to understand a key maxim of the Omniverse, first documented in the mid-1300's when William the Conqueror ramped the English channel on a motorcycle to "Carry On My Wayward Son", thus taking control of Wessex. That maxim, referred to by the academic community as the "Seward principle", is as follows -

s = n * p^a + m

- wherein "s" represents the likelihood of success of any given action in terms of percentage, "n" is equivalent to the natural awesomeness of any given action (see the Schrodinger Ballsy-Actions Equation for reference), "p" signifying the natural probability of an action occurring, "a" the awesomeness factor of the person attempting this action (see the Roosevelt Index of Badassed Men and Women), and "m" the total value of mustache of all perpetrators and any on-lookers.

Which is to say, the cherub quickly burst into flames and Anton grabbed Excalibur.

Anton walked up to William and was silent.

"Nevermind," he said. "I'll handle the song thing. You want this thing back then?"

[Nightkill the Emperor]

"I'm trapped by the Lords and Ladies, young girl. They have other things stopping me from leaving." he said. "Please, you must hurry. Go down to the basement here. The Prisoner, Ganesh, is there."

Damien farted.

"It's always Ganesh, isn't it?" he asked. "Seriously? He isn't the only god of wisdom right? I mean, what the fuck? But yeah, sure we'll get him."

Damien held his sword. He wanted to use this weapon. A lot. Hopefully he would sometime soon. He also needed to get home. Back to his time, back to his house. That would be good. He smiled.

"Yeah, let's go get Arthur. Sounds like a good idea. Before some dragons pop up and eat us."

This is when a furious dragon, with Don Quixote in his mouth, burst through the castle of glass, roaring and growling as a insane Spaniard entered his mouth.

It twisted its head around everywhere, causing quite a bit of hell for those observing. "Basement. Now." barked Merlin, as he ran off there, heading down the stairs.

Those wanted to stay and deal with the dragon could do so.

---

Merlin appeared in front of the cell bars, looking at the man sitting there, behind the bars. "Oh God, Ganesh." he groaned, seeing the broken and wounded man who was chained to the wall by a dragonstone chain. Ganesh was quiet, stunned, unmoving.

Merlin ripped open the cell bars. "Alright." he said. "The chain is going to be difficult to break. Any of you have tools that can do so?"

Ganesh remained silent, wounded, blood spurting out of his body. His face was missing an eyeball, and blood gushed out of that wound still, showing it was fresh. There was a horrendous stench in the air of rotting flesh, piss and shit.

[Constaniana]

It was now that the cherub was fully confident in its victory, at least over this tiny idiot.

But the cherub failed to understand a key maxim of the Omniverse, first documented in the mid-1300's when William the Conqueror ramped the English channel on a motorcycle to "Carry On My Wayward Son", thus taking control of Wessex. That maxim, referred to by the academic community as the "Seward principle", is as follows -

s = n * p^a + m

- wherein "s" represents the likelihood of success of any given action in terms of percentage, "n" is equivalent to the natural awesomeness of any given action (see the Schrodinger Ballsy-Actions Equation for reference), "p" signifying the natural probability of an action occurring, "a" the awesomeness factor of the person attempting this action (see the Roosevelt Index of Badassed Men and Women), and "m" the total value of mustache of all perpetrators and any on-lookers.

Which is to say, the cherub quickly burst into flames and Anton grabbed Excalibur.

Anton walked up to William and was silent.

"Nevermind," he said. "I'll handle the song thing. You want this thing back then?"

William quietly nodded, mumbling his thanks to Anton as he gratefully took the offered sword from the wizard's hands.

"If I was a woman I'd have your babies right now," the knight confessed, putting Excalibur's blade down in the snow like Eddard Stark about to proclaim that winter was coming in what most certainly wasn't an attempt to hide an erection. "Well, I suppose we should get back to the rest of the group now," William said, coughing. He turned away from Anton and put Excalibur in its scabbard, and then began trekking back up the mountainside.

[Nationstatelandsville]

Damien farted.

"It's always Ganesh, isn't it?" he asked. "Seriously? He isn't the only god of wisdom right? I mean, what the fuck? But yeah, sure we'll get him."

Damien held his sword. He wanted to use this weapon. A lot. Hopefully he would sometime soon. He also needed to get home. Back to his time, back to his house. That would be good. He smiled.

"Yeah, let's go get Arthur. Sounds like a good idea. Before some dragons pop up and eat us."

This is when a furious dragon, with Don Quixote in his mouth, burst through the castle of glass, roaring and growling as a insane Spaniard entered his mouth.

It twisted its head around everywhere, causing quite a bit of hell for those observing. "Basement. Now." barked Merlin, as he ran off there, heading down the stairs.

Those wanted to stay and deal with the dragon could do so.

Screaming.

Everywhere, screaming. In a writhing mass of pain and sorrow, Don Quixote found himself suddenly much smaller than he remembered, trapped in darkness perpetual.

"Well," he concluded as the souls of the damned twisted in eternal torments, "this was unexpected."

For dragons are no material thing.

[Nude East Ireland]

Damien smiled. "Great. Time to use my sword."

He ran up to the dragon, throwing some fire at it. "Hey, fuckface! Come and get me!"

[Astrolinium]

Caspian brandished the sword.

He could have pulled out a gun and made things much easier on himself -- he was perfectly aware of this, but guns were not the proper way to slay a dragon.

He, like Damien, also ran up to the dragon, though he did not throw fire -- Caspian's powers were solely temporal. He called out, "Bet you can't take two at once, you big ugly worm!"

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Lyra listened to Arthur speak as she sketched things on one of her emergency pads, barely being saved from the intruding dragon by one of her beasts, which shoved her out of the way in time. When that happened, she looked around, noticing Merlin ordering everyone to head down the stairs towards the basement, as Arthur had asked of them. Before following him, she approached the throne, and deposited a rose on his lap, before smiling up at him and then running off towards the basement, trailing after Merlin, followed by her ever-loyal host of creatures.

When she reached the basement, she noticed the chains, and the prisoner. And the smell. It was really awful, and the girl had to cover her nose because it wasn't being kind on it, though it didn't cause her nausea, thankfully. Hearing Merlin's plea, Lyra looked at the chain, and then at one of her children, a particularly strong-looking, mostly humanoid creature with a large pair of hands. The creature, as if understanding her unspoken commands, approached and tried to break the chain with its bare hands... But its hands burned, and it immediately retracted them.

Upon observing this, Lyra blinked. "Go on, dear, break it." She said to the creature, but it remained unmoving, not making a single motion and certainly not breaking the chain. After staring at it for a few minutes, Lyra sighed and smiled, before approaching the chain and reaching out towards it. At the last moment, the creature let out a grunt and gripped the chain once again, not letting go of it this time and attempting to break it with all of its might. Lyra smiled again upon seeing this, and began sketching once more, making a drawing of Ganesh that was... Quite simply, not so wounded and beat-up. Bandages in his wounds, an eye-patch over his missing eye. And a cleaner cell, for that matter.

[Nationstatelandsville]

Souls.

Souls are complicated things; invisible, intangible, immaterial. Souls power living things - without them, there would no life. Not just "no consciousness", no, but no life whatsoever. Even Leviathan understood that - for he was a program that programmed, and he was a soul that programmed souls. Anything that has ever drawn breath carries a soul. Humans have souls, angels have souls, Fae have souls.

Dragons have souls.

Souls are complicated things; invisible, intangible, immaterial, inexhaustible. For souls are resources - souls are fuel. Souls power living things. Sometimes, you run out of fuel. When this happens, you refuel.

Dragons don't just have souls, dragons are made of souls. Not just one, like the rest of us, but a jumble of them; a collection of very unwilling participants suffering for eternity to make up a beast of its own mind. Because minds, personalities, loves and hates, they aren't souls - souls are just raw energy. And dragons need energy. Dragons need fuel.

Dragons need to refuel.

This all began to dawn on Don Quixote as he started to realize that he was an integral part of the refueling process; this time, as the fuel.

This was, as you can imagine, incredibly painful. Because minds, personalities, loves and hates, they aren't souls, but they are attached. They accumulate. And if you want the fuel underneath, you need to rip them away.

The last face Alonso Quijano saw in his mind's eye was his own.

"NO!" he barked, "I am not dragon food! I am not your slave! I will not- this is not right!"

Souls.

Souls are complicated things; invisible, intangible, immaterial, inexhaustible, and immortal.

"You do not get to destroy me!"Quixote howled, "You have not earned that! You are nothing more than a coward wearing a monster's hide! You do not even deserve to die by my sword! I cannot die here, because you cannot kill me! POR LA MANCHA!"

Souls can hear, too. Souls, especially, can hear other souls.

And that day, they heard that old hidalgo, Don Quixote de la Mancha.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Souls.

Souls are complicated things; invisible, intangible, immaterial. Souls power living things - without them, there would no life. Not just "no consciousness", no, but no life whatsoever. Even Leviathan understood that - for he was a program that programmed, and he was a soul that programmed souls. Anything that has ever drawn breath carries a soul. Humans have souls, angels have souls, Fae have souls.

Dragons have souls.

Souls are complicated things; invisible, intangible, immaterial, inexhaustible. For souls are resources - souls are fuel. Souls power living things. Sometimes, you run out of fuel. When this happens, you refuel.

Dragons don't just have souls, dragons are made of souls. Not just one, like the rest of us, but a jumble of them; a collection of very unwilling participants suffering for eternity to make up a beast of its own mind. Because minds, personalities, loves and hates, they aren't souls - souls are just raw energy. And dragons need energy. Dragons need fuel.

Dragons need to refuel.

This all began to dawn on Don Quixote as he started to realize that he was an integral part of the refueling process; this time, as the fuel.

This was, as you can imagine, incredibly painful. Because minds, personalities, loves and hates, they aren't souls, but they are attached. They accumulate. And if you want the fuel underneath, you need to rip them away.

The last face Alonso Quijano saw in his mind's eye was his own.

"NO!" he barked, "I am not dragon food! I am not your slave! I will not- this is not right!"

Souls.

Souls are complicated things; invisible, intangible, immaterial, inexhaustible, and immortal.

"You do not get to destroy me!"Quixote howled, "You have not earned that! You are nothing more than a coward wearing a monster's hide! You do not even deserve to die by my sword! I cannot die here, because you cannot kill me! POR LA MANCHA!"

Souls can hear, too. Souls, especially, can hear other souls.

And that day, they heard that old hidalgo, Don Quixote de la Mancha.

The souls were blue, approaching Quixote slowly. "Who are you?" one floating soul asked in a voice that was male and female, young and old, occupying all ages and stages. It came close to Quixote, curious.

Quixote felt himself begin to glow blue, his body starting to fade.

Damien smiled. "Great. Time to use my sword."

He ran up to the dragon, throwing some fire at it. "Hey, fuckface! Come and get me!"

The dragon opened its mouth and grabbed Damien, who found himself next to Quixote, starting to fade as well.

Caspian brandished the sword.

He could have pulled out a gun and made things much easier on himself -- he was perfectly aware of this, but guns were not the proper way to slay a dragon.

He, like Damien, also ran up to the dragon, though he did not throw fire -- Caspian's powers were solely temporal. He called out, "Bet you can't take two at once, you big ugly worm!"

This dragon now only fought one at once. It glared down at Caspian, a single massive claw swiping at him.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Lyra listened to Arthur speak as she sketched things on one of her emergency pads, barely being saved from the intruding dragon by one of her beasts, which shoved her out of the way in time. When that happened, she looked around, noticing Merlin ordering everyone to head down the stairs towards the basement, as Arthur had asked of them. Before following him, she approached the throne, and deposited a rose on his lap, before smiling up at him and then running off towards the basement, trailing after Merlin, followed by her ever-loyal host of creatures.

When she reached the basement, she noticed the chains, and the prisoner. And the smell. It was really awful, and the girl had to cover her nose because it wasn't being kind on it, though it didn't cause her nausea, thankfully. Hearing Merlin's plea, Lyra looked at the chain, and then at one of her children, a particularly strong-looking, mostly humanoid creature with a large pair of hands. The creature, as if understanding her unspoken commands, approached and tried to break the chain with its bare hands... But its hands burned, and it immediately retracted them.

Upon observing this, Lyra blinked. "Go on, dear, break it." She said to the creature, but it remained unmoving, not making a single motion and certainly not breaking the chain. After staring at it for a few minutes, Lyra sighed and smiled, before approaching the chain and reaching out towards it. At the last moment, the creature let out a grunt and gripped the chain once again, not letting go of it this time and attempting to break it with all of its might. Lyra smiled again upon seeing this, and began sketching once more, making a drawing of Ganesh that was... Quite simply, not so wounded and beat-up. Bandages in his wounds, an eye-patch over his missing eye. And a cleaner cell, for that matter.

She managed to heal Ganesh, but the paper lit aflame again. Evidently, trying to draw on Fae things like Set or the castle would be a failure.

Behind her, she heard a musical chuckle, seeing two tall and beautiful warriors facing her. The two Fae soldiers (who looked like elves) stared at her, their crossbows pointing at them.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Lyra sighed and shook her head as she dropped the pad and stomped it with her right foot until it had been put out. It really was frustrating, to have that happen whenever she tried to be of some assistance by using her sole power. At least she'd managed to patch up the poor prisoner that was suffering so much in there, but she didn't seem to be able to do a whole lot more and her servant had not yet managed to break the chain holding him, by the looks of it. She was about to tell Merlin to take care of that, but instead of that she heard the two elves behind her, and turned around only to notice two crossbows pointed at her. Almost immediately, one of her beasts stood in front of her, a round thing covered in a thick gray carapace, large enough to cover the girl behind it, though that didn't stop her from peeking out from behind and looking at the handsome elves.

She did, however, still address Merlin after that. "Wizard, could you take care of this? I don't seem to be able to do a lot in this place, much to my frustration." She told him, referring mostly to the prisoner, as she had some other creatures try and restrain the elves. There weren't quite as many after having to deal with Set, but there were still quite a few.

[Nationstatelandsville]

Aziraphale stepped onto the Road, and instantly, a small vehicle which could be mistaken for a car appeared; if not for the fact it had no wheels, save the steering wheel.

"Unexpected," he said, "but I'll take it."

"What if they drive off the road?" Lewis asked.

"Then we try very hard not to die. But, if the karts are here, I imagine they have a reason to be."

And so the Elfen Highers climbed the road, each man to a kart. Soon, they came upon a gap in the road, bridged with a bit of magic to send them air-born. As they approached the magical strip, Lewis pulled up to Aziraphale.

"I don't like this," he said.

"Neither do I," Aziraphale nodded, "If he really wanted to, Uriel could have turned this off at any point. He wants us to cross the bridge."

"The Capitol is a flying city , yeah?" Lewis said, "Well, everything that goes up..."

The cars were thrown violently into the sky, moving at speeds relativistic. After a very thorough pissing in their pants, they crashed hard down on to the next segment, their bones rattling.

"...must come down."

After another twenty minutes' drive, the Road ended on pavement; the Capitol lay before them, mist clinging closely to the ground, as though the earth was made of clouds. From the smog rose beautiful buildings woven of gold and silver, a very Roman-influenced architectural style expanded to the modern skyscraper. In this city, it seemed, each building was a copy of the Temple over and over. These buildings were covered in vines and hanging gardens floated above the ground. The way was lit by glowing green mystical flame, which cast a sickly light on the metal around them. The entire city, it seemed, was built around a massive cathedral in the center which towered above the rest. On the church, a single stained glass window faced them. In the style of the 13th century, it showed, in cartoonish tapestry, an angel driving a golden sword through another, whose flesh had turned blue and his wings black.

The man with the sword was not Michael. The man with the sword was Uriel.

And the blue man, the Devil, was Aleister Crowley.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

"I was born in Liverpool, Merseyside, back in Britain. Ever heard of it? The Beatles were from there. It was a pleasant city, I guess, but...to be honest, I can't remember much of it. It was destroyed during the Abrahamic War, and my family and I escaped to Yorkshire, since we had relatives there. I lived there for a good part of my youth, before my parents decided to send me abroad, to study. They thought I didn't have much chances, back in Britain, and that all the devastation there would have impaired my upbringing, anyways."

Grace glanced down at the floor, bringing her memories back to mind. "They sent me to Malta. See, there's a Catholic school which teaches subjects similar to Elfen High's, there. It's called the Saint Gabriel Of Our Lady of Sorrow's Institute for Catholic Youth, and I have been a student there for about five-six years. My family was devoutly Catholic, and...well, they thought I should have been educated in the Catholic way. Thing is, I was never good with magic, and due to this I was picked on by almost half of the school. Then....I don't know how to explain it, but I suddenly discovered that I was...skilled. I couldn't cast a spell, but I could do a very convincing wallrun during PE, beat the best ones in fencing class, and set a good time on the running track. The principal there said I was...gifted, to some degree."

Grace glanced up towards Fen. "Due to that, I got to participate in some special classes built around my peculiar skills, and eventually the school decided to send me here in Elfen as an exchange student. I met Lily during said occasion."

The Scouser girl glanced again at the ground, before putting an hand on her own side. "Anyways, you said you were from a Pacific island, right? How did you even hear about Elfen High? Did Principal Crowley or someone else from the staff pay you a visit and bring you here?"

"Honestly? I don't know if Elfen High found me or someone on the island called to have me taken away. I was awoken, stuffed into clothing, handed bags and, several hours later, I met Mohamed Chandra in an airport and we left for this place. I thought I was too old for school; I'm twenty. Turns out there less schooling here and more "hang on to your butt because you might die" sort of experiences. I've learned a lot since then."

A bemused smiled crept onto her face as she reflected upon her arrival. "I thought perhaps my people sent me here because they wanted to kill me. Then Chandra booted me out of the plane, I bounced across the school and tumbled into Loki and then got dragged into mischief. That's when I knew my suspicions were right." The Polynesian was joking, of course (sort of, maybe).

"Here we are," she pointed towards the infirmary doors. "They'll be able to tell you if Lily's in there - oh!"

The infirmary. Norack. The train. The pub where they stopped in Hell! "Lily! I've met her, briefly, in Spartar. We'd gone for drinks. She said she was a student and had come from a research post in Hell. I hope nothing bad has happened to her. She seemed very nice."

Behind them, they saw a man standing there, with a few dozen other men and women. They all had swords or guns on their possession, looking on high alert.

The man turned to Grace and Fen. "I'm Calliel." he said. "I believe we've met?" he nodded at Grace. "Are you two heading for the battle?"