NATION

PASSWORD

Voyage Through the Multiverse (Ended) [IC]

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Demincia
Minister
 
Posts: 2326
Founded: Jul 08, 2010
Democratic Socialists

No, seriously. I'm not kidding.

Postby Demincia » Fri May 10, 2019 12:24 pm

Beatrice pulled back and looked at Madi.
"But why are you a ghost?"
"I used a Time Stone set that was dormant and the result of reactivating it created a spirit body separation. Is everyone still alive?"
Beatrice nodded.
"You've been gone a long time, dear. Come in, quickly, we have a lot to talk about."

The reunion was emotional. Thanks to her grandmother's magic, Madi was able to interact with her parents and other non magical relatives.
She learned that the date was October 28th, 2019, over a year had passed since she had left right after the battle.
Everything seemed to be alright now, her family was still alive, despite what was happening outside her house, but in here, it was safe
And Madi found that she didn't want to leave.

As Madi and her family enjoy their reunion none of them were aware that near by several people were watching them behind binoculars and scopes. The group used headsets and radios to communicate with each other as the snipers have clear paths to shot and everyone was prepared for the mission. Once they leader made a final check for their weapons they would tell everyone to commence with the operation.

The black fatigue, tactical gear, wearing group rushed out of their head spots and as a small group carried a batting ram went to the door and began to bang on it, breaking it rather easily. Others broke windows and threw smoke bombs and flashbangs. Once they went off they enter through the windows while others through the door. It seems every opening available in the house they were pouring through.

The group pointed the barrel and laser sights of their guns at Madi and her family as they order all of them to freeze, threatening that resistance would get them shot.

Madi stared at the people surrounding her and her family, then she slowly stood up from the barstool and took a few steps forwards.
"I have no idea who you think you are, but I'm only going to say this once. Get the hell out of my house."
She summoned her magic and the flames crackled as magical energy filled the room.

The leader of the group started laughing.
"You hear this? She wants us to leave!"
The man stopped laughing and a few of the people drew wands and pressed in closer.
"I don't think you realize what's happened here, Goodwill. The Muggles discovered us and offered us Pures a chance to get back at you lowlifes. We took the offer, and we've been granted immunity to all of the rounding up and enslaving. Ever since the day you left, it's been like this. There's a reward for you, did you know that?"
The man paused.
"Except you're a ghost right now....No matter, you'll come back home someday, and we'll get you then."

Madi aimed a hand towards the man and he took a step back.
"Get. Out. Of. My. House."
When no one moved, Madi fired a magic bolt and soon projectiles were flying everywhere.

When the magical projectile was fired it hit the wizard's shield. "You think we are wearing these just to look intimidating? You will be surprised what can be made when you mix muggle tech with magic." the lead Wizard took out his wand and fired off a sickly green bolt of energy at Madi, using the feared killing curse on her to make her. The others began to fire from their rifles and wands at her family.

Madi had no idea how long she laid there for, staring up at the dawning sky.
Her mind was blank, hollow, the world around her was silent, as if it was holding its breath, just waiting for the inevitable explosion.
-
A strangled roar echoed through the forest some time later, then the sound of trees being felled and various small creatures being slaughtered.
Eventually, the bear left the woods and found herself staring dully up at a massive manor.
The grief stricken creature hesitated, reared up on her hind legs, then crashed down onto all fours and started to run towards the house, a strange glint in her eyes.
She showed no signs of stopping, and the look in her eyes was of one that appeared to be suicidal.

Deep within the manor, chanting can be heard within the workshop of arcane formula and esoteric inventions known to most as the alchemy lab. Alex and her copy stood on a table, in front of them were four golden bracelets with sapphires on them, pearl necklace, an emerald colored ring, and two ruby earrings. These items were set on a magic circle and next to the table was a resonator creating a current of aetheric energy.

The copy held a vial of liquefied Azoth and gently applied drops of it on to the items as Alex chanted in Latin, moving her hands in slow and graceful gestures of the items. Metis stood in the room watching the two, ready to get them out should their experiment fail. As the two Ashwoods kept working on the final process of their sorcerious procedure the other members of Alex's team were either starting to wake up or were up but doing their daily routines and rituals after waking before going down to eat.
The two clones would eventually cease their work as the enchantment process was complete. The original Alex took the items and placed them on herself. She walked to a mirror and checked herself out with the items and her new attire, no longer seeing the new to be Weiss anymore and wanting to change her look. "I think we did a good job with this one me. If we got the time I may create duplicates for you." she turn to her clone. "But for now I believe your services is done."

Alex would sense a large spike of arcane energy coming from the pond. Metis also felt it and looking at her clone she would say. "Stay here and tell the others that me and Metis will investigate it. Tell them to prepare for a possible enemy raid." the clone nodded and the three left the lab.

The two would leave the manor and as they ran towards the forest the two would see trees cut down everywhere. The damage was getting worse and when they reached the pond they saw the true extent of the damage. "Are you fucking kidding me. Again!" the furious lich shouted as she summon her staff. "I swear if this is Kyle's idea of a joke I'm going to shove my staff so far up his ass that he would..." the lich stopped in mid speech as she suddenly felt a dark presence in the forest.

The two would go after the source but as they did they realize it was going to the manor, the two chose to retreat back to the building to await for the possible intruder. As the two awaited, Alex with her staff and Metis with a dual bladed war axe, they would see the source was a charging bear. Alex knew that bear wasn't normal. Besides the magical aura surrounding it she knew that bears weren't native to these parts. As the bear charged forward Alex stepped forward. Thrusting her left arm forward and holding it out like she was holding to a shield she would chant once more in Latin.

Should the bear strike at the lich it would find a force was preventing it's claws from reaching the woman. Alex would make another chant and those with supernatural senses would see the sapphires on the right bracelet glow as blue lines began to appear on her arm. Channeling additional power from her Outrage Arcanios the lich would throw a punch at the bear's chest. The boost of kinetic energy from Outrage mixed with the reinforcement magic provided by her new amulets meant that once her fist hit the bear on the chest it not only broke ribs but send it flying as a rippling burst of kinetic energy came off from the blow.
Metis would dash towards the bear and jump up into the air, spinning around in mid air, before coming back down with her axe bared on the bear to slice the ursine in two.

Something in the back of the creature's mind was screaming at her to stop, to give in, but the creature ignored the tiny voice and reared up to attack the lich-she couldn't attack her. Some force was preventing her from attacking.
The bear hesitated, shifting on her hind legs, before she noticed a bracelet on Alex's arm, it was starting to glow.
Madi watched curiously as blue lines started to appear on the older Witch's arm, before Alex punched her in the chest.

Pain, then she was flying through the air and she landed hard on her left side. The bear watched through blurred vision as Metis ran up to her, an axe raised about her head....
No! Wait, it's-
The axe came down and then there was only darkness.
-
Her mind came back slowly.
It hurt to breath. There was something-the axe-lodged into her right side.
Madi's gaze moved upwards from the bloody axe to Alex and Metis.
"I'm sorry."
She wanted to say more, to tell them that it hadn't been her that had attacked them, but yet it had been.
But the darkness was encroaching rapidly, Madi raised her right hand a bit, out towards Alex, it wavered, she let the hand drop and allowed the darkness to take her away.

Alex didn't flinch when Metis blade sliced into the body of the bear, nor did the automaton. Both knew that should the bear somehow survive the attack it would be too injured to fight and it would eventually succumb to blood loss. However before they can congratulate themselves on a good job they would see the bear transforming, when they saw the new shape it was in Alex's pale complexion surprisingly turn even more paler than usual.

"Oh god what have we done!" she stated in panic when she realize that they attacked Madi. "We broke her ribcage and sliced through several organs and arteries after she tried to attack the manor in ursine form." Metis coldly stated. The automaton look down at the girl. "In her current state she would have harmed or killed anyone in the manor. What was did was necessary for the safety of the others." the automaton stated as she grabbed her axe by the shaft, the weapon dissolving into stream of lights and enter the rubies located on her wrists that contain a pocket dimension for her weapons and equipment.
Alex look at the now open gash as blood was pouring out. "We need to cover that up Metis. Quick use that gel we manage to copy from AEGIS." The mechincal girl summon a spray and when she knelt down began to apply a sort of gel on the gash. The medigel was a genetically engineer organism that would not only sterilize the wound by eating bacteria and virus but would increase the bodies regeneration by acting as the missing organic matter, bonding to the user's own body like they were born with it inside of them.

Once the medigel was placed in and on Madi the lich lift her up with her powers. "Now we need to find somewhere to hide Madi so no one would know what happened." the two began to turn back to the manor but both began to look for an alternative way back inside so no one would see them and ask why Madi was in her current condition.

Within a bedroom built within one if the many secret rooms Madi lay on a bed as the medigel slowly did its work. The two woman who injured her were now arguing. "That girl was in a war path towards the manor. She was clearly intending to attack us and as such is a threat." Metis told the occult specialist of the group. "I've been with Madison long enough to know that she isn't the type to just attack people randomly. There has to be a reason for why she acted this way." The lich told the clockwork automaton.

The two women would keep arguing in whether to get rid of Madison to spare her life. Right now both seem to agree on getting questions from her to determine if her reasons for going rogue is enough to keep her with the group or even spare her.

As the two argued, there was suddenly a sound that was becoming familiar to some, as it sounded like space itself was ripped apart. Two identical redheads stepped forward from the swirling hole in the fabric of reality, one carrying a giant hammer and one holding a giant scythe. The one with the hammer stopped just in front of the vortex as it closed, while the one wielding the scythe kept walking. "Move." she commanded, lacking any of the previous intonations that might have been considered friendly. She pushed forward, pushing past the two women and stood over Madi, looking down.

Dawn lowered her head slightly, closed her eyes, then sighed. It seemed she was growing ever more exasperated with those which she chose to associate. She placed the toe of the scythe's blade against the girl's forehead and her own eyes began to take on a green glow once more. All of the injuries Madi's body had sustained suddenly never existed, as if she had never been struck.

She raised her scythe, and kept her back to the two older women. "It seems that every time I extinguish one fire, someone is lighting another." she said quietly, though her words still carried her intended emotion. It seemed like this would be an opportune time for Celeste to contribute her own personal feelings that the group was a waste of time, but she was surprisingly silent.

......
........?
............I'm.....
.....Alive.......?
.....How?


Voices. Distant voices. They were talking about her, what her fate should be.
Madi ignored them and didn't think of anything for what felt to be a long time.
She felt as if she was floating, her mind was mostly blank, but she knew that she would remember everything eventually, and when she did....
No, she didn't want to remember anything right now.
But yet, she did, what had happened in London, to her family, to her in particular....
-
....Should I wake up and tell them what happened? Am I even awake? I must be, I can think, did they do something to me?
She knew that some time had passed, Dawn had done something to her, she didn't exactly feel as if she was floating anymore, she felt as if she was falling, then the sensation stopped and it dawned on her that she was lying on a bed, the space around her felt small and Madi sensed others in the room that she was in.
. Something had happened to her magic, perhaps they had disabled it somehow in case she attacked them again.
But why?
The darkness faded away, Alex and Matis were at the other side of the room, talking to each other in low voices. Dawn was standing over her, holding that scythe of hers. Celeste was also in the room but she wasn't talking. Madi couldn't hear what Alex and Matis were saying. And it was only a matter of time before they noticed that she was awake, so she merely waited.

Alex looked away in shame but Metis gave Dawn a cold and blank expression. "We did what anyone in our situation would have done. She chose to try and attack the manor and put the occupants in the building in danger and we stepped in to stop her rampage." The android looked over at Madi. "All though at the time we believed her to be either an anomalous creature attacking the manor or a creature sent by the cult, we had no idea it was Madison." The android explained as she defended their action to the two redheads. Alex looked at the two finally and sighed. "Look. Maybe me and Metis went overboard but if we knew that bear was Madi we would have restrained her without hurting her. But I still don't understand why she was trying to charge at the manor in that form? I felt so much rage coming from her aura." The lich explained

Dawn didn't return Metis' gaze, instead keeping her back towards the women. "Your motives neither move me nor do they matter to me. Time gives little consideration to intentions, for it is only focused on results." she cautioned. She glanced back towards Alex. "She's awake now, ask her yourself. It is the easiest way for you to figure it out. I've helped you this far, as much as I care to." She turned and moved away from the bed, allowing the two women easier access to Madi. "I would hurry, though. You have obligations that you do not yet know of that will arise soon."

Alex flinched at Dawn's tone but Metis barely reacted. Alex stepped forward to Madi and look down at her. "Madison. Did you caused that explosion that we felt from the woods? We were you a bear and why were you trying to attack the manor?" Metis chose to speak after Alex was done. "Do you still wish to attack us?"

"You...Tried to kill me....Why should I even........I.....never thought I would wake up....."

After a few moments, Madi started talking.
She told them about the current state of London, how her people were being treated-she compared it to the Jews in WW2, save for some certain events, but those could have happened by now-she told them how the Act of Secrecy had been broken, her people were being rounded up and being taken to places, wands being broken, people being killed left and right. And then she told them on the raid on her house, and how the Pure could see her, even though when the Time Stones set that she had found in the woods reactivated from being dormant for so long, they turned her into a ghost, and then the Pures had 'killed' her and sent her back.

Finally, she told them how she had felt then, how everything came crashing down around her and she couldn't live knowing what was going on with her people, not to mention the possible fate of her family. There was a desperate tone in her voice, she wanted someone to help her, to whisk all of the bad away, to tell her that everything was going to be okay. But it wasn't. Never again.

But. But, Madi started thinking.
Maybe one day, she could go back home, with her new friends and allies, and free everyone. But that day was far from dawning.

Alex frown when Madi questioned why she should talk to them after what they did. But soon she began to tell them what she saw from the time stones she found in the wood and it sending her back by astral projection to see the terrible state London was left in after AEGIS's war. "Jesus." Was Alex response after she heard the state of London. The witch and automaton were silent after realizing just how much damages they made to the world due to Czernobog's rampage.

Alex slowly walked to Madi and lift the girl up before hugging her, apologizing to her for what happen to her world. Metis just watch the two. "Do you wish to return to your world?" She asked. "If you do so I suggest you find a world identical to your world but not in that exact state. Because right now liberation is impossible for you as you like the resources and manpower to free your people and destroy the current government responsible for the current predicament your people are in."

Madi froze when Alex hugged her, then she hugged the older woman back fiercely for several seconds before she glanced over to Metis.
"Yes I want to go back and help, what kind of question is that? I'd go now if it was even possible to help everyone but I know it's impossible right now but I don't know how long I can't wait before I go back to help them."

"Unless you can gather an army I suggest to not return to your world to liberate it." Metis told her. Alex let go of Madi. "Metis is sadly right. You can't save your people alone Madi. I don't know if anyone in this world might help, most need strong reasons to be convinced to be involved in something like what is happening in your world." Alex explained, not seeing the point in sugar coating her words as this was a serious situation they were in. Metis turn her back on the group. "For now we should focus on dealing with the immediate threat of the Crimsonites. Once they have been dealt with you can try to gather allies for your war for liberation."

The truth hurt. But they were right.
Madi simply nodded her head and said "Okay." before asking about what was going to happen after this incident.

"We prepare for the raid. We need to meet with the cult that agreed to work with us. But for that we need Elizabeth as she got them all to agree to help with us." Alex explained as she got up, extending her hand down to help Madi up.

Madi took Alex's hand and she stood up.
"I won't be joining you just yet. Need to...Make some preparations of my own."

Alex nodded. "As we all. I need to check to see if Elizabeth is ready as well as she is the one that manage to get the cults to work with us. So she is our leader by default." Alex would say. Metis woukd be the first to leave the room so she can make preparations herself.

Upstairs the alarm clock in Elizabeth's room was ringing. The witch would reach out and after swinging a few times and missing would hit the clock and leave her hand on top of it. The witch felt the explosion of arcane energy but chose not to get up. "It's way too early for me to deal with that sort of shit." she would mutter before turning her back on the clock and trying to go back to sleep.

"BAM MOTHERFUCKER!"
Elizabeth opened her eyes just long enough to catch Kyle's face, and then promptly went back to sleep.
"What, aren't you gonna... wake up?"
She waved her hand at him.
"Well, I mean, there's a raid and all that's about to go down. I thought you'd be a little more excited about this."

The witch open her eyes to look at him. "Sure. I'm excited about going to a compound by a murder happy cult. Now if you excuse me I want to sleep a bit more." She turn her back from him. "I'll get up once I get tired of sleeping." She said as she lay out a yawn, returning back to sleep.

Kyle stood by her beside a little while, before shrugging.
"Yeah. Sure. Have fun, Liz."
He didn't need to bring the weaponsmith to the battlefield, after all. He needed only their products.

Elizabeth would the cotton stitches of the blanket rub against her skin as she moved beneath the covers. The witch turn to face the same spot where Kyle once stood on as he look down on her to know if she would awaken from her slumber. Back then she was not as she felt more exhausted from the day before. While yesterday was not as physically grueling like some of her days the emotional spectacles from yesterday and the late night experiments did drain a lot of her energy. "Hard to believe that so much shit can happen in day. Well that is something younger me would have said anyway, I know better now."

Between her own group fracturing and the revelation of her own mother still being around Elizabeth was surprised she manage to find enough energy to stay up to work with Kyle and making those items... or that she manage to stay in the same room with him for that long. The witch placed both hands on the bed and used her arms to push the upper half of her body up, feeling the blanket sliding down in response to gravity pushing it down.
The witch looked around in the dark room as sunlight ray down through the window. "Well you delayed the moment long enough Lizzy. You have to get ready for the big day." the witch removed the blanket off her body as her sock covered feet touch on the wooden floor. The witch took a few steps and stop to glance herself at a mirror; eyes still half closed from linger fatigue, hair a shaggy mess, shoulders and back hunched, her black cropped tank top being ruffled up. Her white mid shorts were the only thing that look decently presentable. Yet for the drowsy witch she can barely care about looking presentable to anyway.

As the witch shambled to the door she peak through the opening to see if anyone else was up. She heard voices down stairs. Thinking that everyone was downstairs already she open the door and shambled to the door. When she open the door it took a few seconds for her mind to register that the room was not as empty as she thought it was. The tired eyes of Elizabeth look on to the inquisitive if slightly startled eyes of Phoenix as he turn away from the mirror. The witch look down and saw that he was still wearing the same blue suit from yesterday (poor guy probably has nothing but the clothes on his back), and a comb on his head with the other was close to touching his spiky hair.
"Am I interrupting something?" she asked, her tone of voice matching the general appearance she was giving to Phoenix. Phoenix was quick to recover from the sudden intrusion to speak. "I'm just combing my hair right now. I'm almost done." he told her. The witch look at him for a few seconds "You don't mind if I brush my teeth right now?" the lawyer just gave her a shrug before he moved aside slightly to give her some room. As Elizabeth took the spot that Wright gave her she would open the mirror cabinet and get the toothbrush and toothpaste and placing the mirror back in place. As the sink was turn on and Elizabeth began to brush her teeth the lawyer would keep his eyes on his hair but occasionally look down at the woman next to him.

Wright would be the first to finish as he put down the comb while Elizabeth would take in some water to rinse her mouth. The witch would lift her head up and growl for a few seconds before bring her head down to spit out the water. "I think you should stay here Wright." Elizabeth told him as she kept her eyes on the water going down the drain. The lawyer didn't say anything as he knew that he couldn't make any reason for why he should join in the raid. Besides his own conflict over his own morals on the present situation he was in he had no means to be of actual use to the group.
As the witch began to wash her face Phoenix spoke. "I know I can't do much Ashwood. But I just can't stay here doing nothing hoping that you all come back alive. I need to do something to help you all." he told her. As Elizabeth twisted the knobs and shut off the fluctuate she reply with. "I suggest you look at some of the grimoires and memorize some of the rituals and spells on them. I doubt they would make you into a mage but knowing a few spells would improve your survival in this world, and if I have to be blunt, your use for the group." she would walk over to the towel and begin to dry her face. When she pulled it away from her face she would still be holding it when she continue to talk with him. "Your skill as a lawyer and as a pseudo-detective are great and the latter would have been useful back when we didn't know who our enemy was and where they were hiding. But now those skills can't be used and if we do everything right we may not need a lawyer to help bail us out from the law."

The witch placed the towel back where it belong as she finally turn to face him, placing one hand on her side. "I can tell that you were bothered by the fact that most of us are willing to break the law and I don't want force you do something you don't want. At least in here you won't have to worry about killing someone or you being killed in turn." the witch turn her head to the upper left as she began to rub her chin. "That reminds me, I need to give you a list on which grimoire to avoid. Some of them would be too advanced for a novice of magic like your and others are too dangerous even for most decently skilled mages."
The lawyer knew that he would need to tell her what he told the others yesterday back in the foyer. "I'm not entirely new to magic, nor is the supernatural new to me either." those words made the witch surprised as she return her gaze on him. "Excuse me. Are you saying that mages exist in your world?" the lawyer nodded. He would tell her on how he once dealt with a trail that involved witchcraft and how he knew a family of spirit mediums and not only had them help him with his cases but even shown and explained his magatama. By the end of his story Wright put away the enchanted item. "Sorry for keeping this a secret for so long. I've been so use to keeping this sort of stuff a secret sense most people would think I'm crazy if I told them that."
The witch crossed her arms in front of her chest, just below her breasts, as she gave the lawyer a stern look. "You were in an extra dimensional marketplace, met a ghost witch, was accosted by orcs, was kidnapped by an esper using future tech, and are now staying in an enchanted and sentient manor that was home to generations of mages in a town where it's dark legends and ghost stories are as true as it's history. Oh and the fact everyone here has supernatural powers and half don't belong to this universe. Trust me, your story won't sound as far fetch compare to the stories I have Wright."

The lawyer couldn't help but to laugh once he heard Elizabeth's explanation, he rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah when you put it like that I was being foolish on hiding that from you all. Though I never had a reason to share that. I only did because one of the new people sensed my magatama." being reminded of the new guests in the manor Elizabeth sighed as she glanced at the floor, seemingly vexed about about their presence. "Of course the Order would send in more people to make sure I wouldn't do something to destroy their property. Even though I have more of a right to this place than them." the lawyer seem puzzled by her statement. "I thought your mother own this place?" Wright gulped when the mention of her mother resulted in her giving him a heated glare. Yet his fears died down when her expression turn almost somber as she return her gaze back to the floor. "She does technically but that was when she was alive. After she died the Order took it from us. The reason we even went to the Merchant's Crossroads was because they took most of the furniture, leaving the basement untouched."
The witch rolled her shoulders as she put her arms down. "Either way. I can't complain about the current situation now as we have a roof over our heads and a comfy place to sleep in that so happens to be an arcane fortress. Let's just enjoy what we have now and worry what comes afterwards later." the witch told him as she turn around and began to walk out. "If you need a lawyer to fight back the deed to your home I'm willing to help." the witch stopped and look behind her to see the smiling face of Phoenix. The witch was silent, unsure what to say. "I'll think on that Wright." she told him as she resume her walk out of the bathroom.



"Both Alex and Metis are taking a long time. You guys think they are already?" Mai asked as she lay on the couch, the lower half of her legs dangling hanging loose as her knees rested on the arms.

"Maybe they encountered an assassin sent by the Crimsonites and are still fighting them?" Richard said as he was feeding a large isopod-like creature, it was making strange noises as it ate the lettuce he provided for it off his hands. Wei lean against the wall with his arms in front of his arm as he watch through the eyes of demonic familiars he sent out to look for Alex and Metis. "I see nothing. I can say that if they fought against someone they either won and are disposing of the body or they are in another dimension."

When they heard that the two were absent they turn to Nix. "I got nothing either. Somehow they vanished off the face of the Earth." the shadow woman said. "Or maybe we are just very good when it comes to hiding." the group turn to find Alex and Metis entering the living room. "I told you all that me and Metis can take care of ourselves." she scolded them. The group all had different reactions to the scolding, range from Theo and Nix who look embarrassed to Wei who barely seem phased by it.
"What did you two fight and what caused that spike in arcane energy?" Simon asked the two as he was sitting on the floor with one knee raised, his back against the wall as Samson was eating straight out of a can that held a few fruits and preserved meats. "It was a monster native to the woods and the spike was a set of magical stones that Madi found. They are dormant now after the spike and the monster got drawn to the stones." Alex told the group, fudging around with the truth slightly.

"Should we go out and get those stones before someone else gets them?" Valeria asked which made Alex shake her head. "The stones would be brought in by one of the servants in the manor. For now we can relax until Elizabeth is ready to leave." the moment her name was mention Elizabeth came in carrying both a plate that had the food that Kyle made now reheated and a mug of steaming coffee. The witch still wore the same clothing she slept in and while her hair was not as messy as before it still look shaggy.
As the witch sat on a chair the others look at her. "I see you're very comfortable in here." Valeria said, referring to the witch's current attire. The witch was cutting a piece off the salmon as she replied back. "I think we have more pressing things to talk about besides my clothing." Elizabeth looked up. "Where is everyone? I don't want to repeat myself." The witch was aware that Kyle most likely left on his own but she still wants the others present for the meeting. She placed the piece of salmon in her mouth and began to chew as she watch for the others to appear.

"One of us will tell them your plan later." Rolo said from another chair as he was polishing his hammer. "But right now you mentioned that you found some cults willing to help us." the witch nodded as she bit down on another piece of Salmon. "Some of the cults willing to aid us are Gaia's self imposed Gardners and Caretakers, and the cyberpunk enthusiasts and computer wizards that we call Augers." Elizabeth said as her words were slightly muffled by the food still in her mouth.

"You seriously got those two to work together? How the hell did you manage that?" Valeria asked as the others looked at the witch with surprised. From their experience whenever members of those two cults were in the same room they often tried to kill each other. Elizabeth simply shrugged as she reach for her mug. "I knew a guy who was able to help me convince them to resolve their differences long enough to fight a common enemy. No doubt once the Crimsonites are gone their relationship will return back to normal." the witch began to nurse form the steaming mug.
Alex who was sitting on the air with one leg cross over the other spoke up. "We know they are hiding in a pocket dimension and the entrance is within one of the graveyards. The cult pretty much created an ethic cleansing of the local ghoul population and have captured many wraiths with others that manage to escape fleeing. But I think there are still stragglers from both groups. I think I can try to get the survivors to work with us to get revenge on the Crimsonites." Alex explained to the group.

"I.. will bring so.. som.. some of my fri.. friends to help us!" Richard excitingly exclaimed, his wide eyes gleaming with madness and joy. "I will see if a few tenebraes and shadow dwellers would heed my calls to aid us." Nix told the group. "I will see if I can get some demons and fiends who owe to join us in repaying their favors." Wui chimed in. The other members all expressed their opinions on not only preparing for the raid but trying to bring in more allies. This development made Elizabeth have a wide grin on her face.

"I freakin' love working with ancient conspiracies like you guys. You make my life so much less of a hassle." Mai would chime in. "If working with us is so great than why don't you join us?" the grin faded from the witch's face as she retorted with. "I say working with your order is great, but being a member of it would be a pain in the ass."
The witch was return back to stabbing her food with her fork. "I don't see myself surviving long with dealing with the political schemes both your order and AEGIS has, nor do I have interest in joining in that shit. I don't know what kind of bureaucratic hell most people in AEGIS go through but a group of their size it has to be a nightmare to work with. Your order has the whole everyone is scheming against each other and is ready to stab one another on the back in a moment notice just to rise up. I rather not have to deal with never ending paper work or worry about all of my allies potentially wanting to shank me from behind." the witch ranted before resuming with her meal.

With most wanting to avoiding talking about the less savory aspects of their Order the other occult specialist in the room spoke up. "I think we can call this little meeting of ours adjourn. We all should use this time to prepare ourselves and try to gather any last minute allies before we leave." the others agreed and all began to depart from the room, leaving Elizabeth and Alex in the room.

An awkward tension hung in the air as mother and daughter just stare at one another. Both didn't move as both tried to think what to say. Eventually it was Alex who broke the ice. "I know that things are... tense between us." she saw no reaction from Elizabeth. "But I want you to know that I will be there to watch your back. I will do whatever I can to make sure you walk out of there alive, even if gets be sealed or bound by them." she told her.

With Elizabeth not saying a word again the lich turn around and was going to leave, just as she moved a few inches away she would hear her daughter speaking up. "The same to you Alex. I'll make sure they won't try to use you as a battery." the lich let a smile form on her lips, overjoyed to know that even in their current state she still cares about her enough to watch out for her. As the lich left Elizabeth return back to her food, she too had a smile to know that despite her mother's mistake she was still willing to protect her. "I guess somethings never change." she said before resume eating to finish off her breakfast, that way she can prepare herself on a full stomach.


"You know most people in my current predicament would think you are really into hentai." Elizabeth said as she felt the vines that bound her limbs in place slither slightly upward from her legs and downward from her arm. Elizabeth found that the Caretakers in the town were hiding in the woods and after a long trek she eventually found the Gardners. Unfortunately she only found them by falling for a trap they had set up for anyone who tried to intrude upon their grounds.

That was how she found herself trapped in place with her arms lifted up above her arms from a vines that came from the branches while vines that came from the ground warp around her legs, each one warping their cellulite forms firmly around her limbs. None of them did so to the point of cutting blood circulation or to bring great pain or discomfort but enough to prevent her from breaking free so easily. Other tendrils came down but none of them went to her, most simply baring their heads to her to let the witch know that they would strike should she try anything they would deem a threat.
"You are not the first to make a comment similar to that Ashwood. But considering what we have in our garden you should be glad you encounter our creepers instead of our other traps." a woman wearing a long brown dress with a green silk shawl told Elizabeth. Her greenish blue eyes looking into Elizabeth's own pure green eyes. Where as Elizabeth's own hair would be wavy if fixed up the woman's hair was a curly bush that also extended down to her shoulders and past them. Her sun-kissed tanned skin contrasted with Elizabeth's pale skin, a result of her always being under the moon due to her occupation.

As the woman walked around the two heard the leaves on the ground crunching with each step she took on the ground. Despite the very visible tentacles the woodland critters were still making their usual calls, each one making calls to scare off competition or calling out for mates to find their location. Elizabeth would have enjoyed the tranquility if she wasn't currently just a few striptease away from being the main protagonist in a real life hentai scene. More importantly she came to the woods for something more important. "Lady Deirdre. I came to talk with you about the raid against the cult. I need to know if you still wish to join my coalition to strike at the Crimsonite?" she asked her.
The woman now known as Deirdre stopped and turn to look at the witch. "You came here for that?" she waved her hands in the air and Elizabeth would feel the vines loosening their grip on her until the witch was finally free. As her arms came down and she began to rub her wrists she saw the other vines moving back to their hiding spots. "Well I never got a chance to talk with you and the others due to events from yesterday and I feared you may have second thoughts on helping me."

Deirdre smiled. "The fact you manage to survive the two attempts on your life proves to me that you can lead this raid of yours. As I told you before Ashwood. My mission is to care for and protect Gaia. To repair for all of the her years on neutering us and letting us grow. I will not allow this witch to force our mother world into a prison for her self deluded vision of paradise." Skye told the witch as she as the two saw sprites flying above them. The true can feel the presence of forest nymphs and wood sprites watching them. Whether they are agents of Whisperwoods or independent from them isn't clear and right now they don't quite care right now.
"Even if you have to work with the Transcendaii?" the witch cross her arms in front of her chest. Skye seem hesitant with her next words as she took a few more steps to the left. "I will admit that I have some reluctance on working with the machine cult but right now we can't let our disagreement get in the way of dealing against a common enemy. So long as they don't try to attack us we will spare them once they have been dealt with." Elizabeth nodded. "Good. I will talk with them and I will call you to let you know if they agree with you on putting aside their difference for the raid."

The woman gave her a bow. "Thank you Ms. Ashwood." when she look back at her she gave her a smile. "If you like you can stay for a while for some tea. We created a wonderful brew using leaves from a planet that AEGIS recently found that looks almost like our world." she got close to the witch to whisper. "They think we didn't find it but we used one of the routes in Agartha to find that world by accident and have hide our tracks well so they didn't suspect our presence in that world." the two woman laugh.
"I can't right now. But if we both survive this raid I wouldn't mind giving it a try." the two women both said their goodbyes and departed, Elizabeth to find the next group to join her coalition and Skye getting her forces prepared for battle.
Last edited by Demincia on Fri May 10, 2019 12:27 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Demincia
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I checked, like 5 hours 20 minutes to read all this.

Postby Demincia » Fri May 10, 2019 12:30 pm

Elizabeth sat on the wooden chair as she smelled the aroma of caffeinated drinks and freshly baked, sugar laced, pastries. Her eyes glanced at people sitting on tables in the cafe she was in, most had their eyes glued to the screens of phones and laptops. A few came in with friends and chatted with them, well a select few did that anyway. They looked at the screens of their phones like everyone else.

The cafe Elizabeth was in, the Ebony Fountain, either knew that their customer base are addicted to the internet as much to coffee or doing it as a ploy to garner more money to stay afloat and not be gutted by larger chains of powerful and massive companies that devour smaller family own businesses to gather more money for themselves installed wifi routers, chargers for mobile devices, and brought many computer monitors and PC towers for guests who wish to use the internet while drinking their steaming beverages.

"Whatever reason they had for making their place an internet cafe it worked well for them." Elizabeth thought as she sipped her cup of her coffee. Like most she was sitting in front of a computer but while most were focus on social media sites to talk with whatever internet friends they had and sharing memes with strangers the occultists was sharing messages with someone who was her link to her next would be ally. The two were in a private site that was made specifically for this conversation. She saw the digital sigil that produce a geass that would cause most who saw it to ignore and forget what they saw on the screen.
Gibson948: We are glad you have manage to get in contact with us. We feared that the cult has manage to silence you before we can meet.

Elizabeth saw the message and after cracking her fingers began to type back her response.

O'Brien826: They tried their best, but it wasn't good enough. Right now they gamble on taking me out cost them more than risk was worth. We have a perfect opportunity to strike at the cult before they can reorganize and fill in their last ranks and resources.

She sent in the message and as she grabbed the arm of her cup to sip more of the coffee she saw that her host was typing down a new message. When she put down the cup she saw the new post and after reading it she began to write down her own.

Gibson948: That may be the case but some of us in the cabal still feel some hesitation on joining in the raid. We do not possess good relations with some of the other parties involved and we fear that our presence would cause them to betray us once the cult is defeated. Are you sure that your other allies will not do away with us once our common enemy is no more?
O'Brien826: Yes. I talked with the Gardeners and they wish to put aside their differences between you two to deal with the cult and wish for a similar arrangement of you guys not attacking them once the cult has been dealt with. AEGIS so far is more concern on wanting to restore order and so long as you don't endanger the order they want they won't betray you. Same thing with the Ushers.

Elizabeth wrote down other responses from the other groups and after sending the message over she lean back and placed her hands behind the back of her head as she waited for the host of the site to be done typing. The message appeared after a few seconds.

Gibson948: If these powers all agree to not turn on us than we will still honor our agreement to assist you. Give us the location on where to meet and we shall be there.

Elizabeth smiled as she typed down the location. Once she was done she typed down one last message.
O'Brien826: Thank you.

The computer blacked out and stayed as such for a few seconds before it booted back up. She knew that their conversation was done now. Elizabeth got up and grabbing her coat she began to walk out of the cafe. Leaving money next to her empty cup of coffee. As she went to her car and enter it she made a call to Skye and once she reached her she shared the news as she drove off to meet with the next contacts.



Alex heard a stick snapped somewhere close by. In any other situation she would be nervous but in this case she was willing to ignore it. She was in the same woods her daughter was in, but unlike Elizabeth who was looking for a hidden but lively community in the woods Alex was instead standing within a piece of forgotten history of the town.

The lich was in a cemetery that was left abandoned in the woods. The once manicured hedges and freshly cut grasses made to look the grounds presentable to visitors to either pay respect to deceased buried in the grounds or the living paying one final respect for a departed soul being laid to rest were now overgrown with weeds and other plants now growing on the former cemetery.

The tombstones had cracks form on the stone, results of years of exposure without anyone trying to maintain or worse the results of vandalism by rowdy teens who sneak into the grounds due to dares in order to test their bravery (and masculinity for men), to find proof of the paranormal like amuatur ghost hunters, or to party in solitude away from any authority figures that would find them. Those not damaged or defaced by past intruders had their writings faded away by the rigors of time and the forces of nature, the barely eligible words being further obscured by dust, soil, and foliage.
Even the iron fences once made to keep intruders out bare the marks of age as rust covered most of them and some bars were either bented or were missing. The gate was left wide open for all to enter and leave as wish. The lich saw a few trees in the grounds, most were rotten pieces of wood left standing somehow but a few were remarkably still alive even after being left alone. The branches of the surrounding trees dim the lights of the sun, casting an eerie shadow over the grounds.

Alex held on to her staff and as she closed her eyes she lift her staff up. “I know you are watching me. I request an audience with you all. It is a matter of great importance to our kinds.” she slammed the pommel of the staff on the soil, causing it to go in slightly. She look down at the ground. “This matter also requires your presence corpse eaters.”

Alex look around the cemetery. She saw nothing occurring for a while. Just as she was ready to call out to her watchers again she saw ghostly orbs deep in the woods. “Nice to know I got their attention.” she smiled at the sight. Alex would see transparent humanoid shapes walking from the woods into the cemetery to her. The lich shivered a little from the sight even though she was very much like them, perhaps a small part of her still felt some tinge of fear in the presence of other wraiths when they behave around her as if she was still among the living?
The shapes began to become more solid and take a more clearer appearance. She saw men, women, and children from different ages and creeds standing before her. She saw people from Anglo Saxon times standing next to people from Tudor England to those of the Victorian Era and Roaring Twenties. She even saw a few modern spirits among the ancient dead. One man dressed as a Tudor noble stepped forward.
His wide brim, feather covered hat sat on top his brown hair as his blue eyes looked down at the witch. The man wore yellow and green striped flowy robes over his yellow frilly shirt. His puffy pants were visible from the thighs down before ending into tights that ended in his shoes. Despite his artsotricactic appearance he was remarkably in good health, at least he wants to maintain the appearance of being in good health. She was aware that wraiths can alter their appearance.

“Why do you call us lich?” the noble asked, his question sounding more like a demand. “What do you have to bring us that you believe is important for all of us?” the other ghosts began to ask her the same thing. Alex would look at the ghosts as she began to speak.

You all are no doubt aware of the murders going on in the town? How someone is taking some of the youths of the town and is butchering them in dark rituals for their depraved god. How they are not only harvesting their souls but the souls of the other spirits in the town to be used for their rites.” being reminded of what the cult was doing to their kind made some wraiths fidget in fear, some almost captured by the very cult that wish to trap them in soul gems to use their energy to power their arcane devices and their magic.

“Not only have they enslaved our kind but they have commited mass murder on the ghouls who called the town home. While some ghouls are more hostile towards humanity the ones here have maintain an amicable relations with humanity, one that is now threaten because of the cult.” Alex began to pace left and right to make sure she can look into the faces of all of the wraiths present.

“However despite these atrocities I learn that the cult wish to do something far worse than what they have done to both the living and dead.” she rose her staff. “They not only wish to summon their bloodthirsty goddess to this world but they wish banish all things supernatural away from this world. Not only do they want to kill all ghouls but banish everything that does not belong to this reality! We will be sent away just like all of the faeries, nature spirits, demons, angels, monsters, and gods. We will all be trapped in Stygia for all eternity!” she shouted.
The news shocked many as all of them began to loudly debate and argue with each other. The noble soon shouted for all of the wraiths to be quiet, waving his arms wildly as he did so. Once he had everyone silent he turn his attention back to the short lich as he step forward and gave her a disbelieving look.

“Do you have proof for your story? How are you so sure that this cult can do what they claim to do?” he told her. “Many cults try to bring forth their gods or change the world to whatever paradise they think is fit, none have ever succeed. What makes them any different to the many others who have tried and failed?” the man gave the lich a smug grin as he seem assured that he was going to expose her as a deceiver.

“Because many of the great powers also believe that this cult might actually be capable of bringing forth their goals.” the wraiths saw Elizabeth walking to them. Once she was standing next to her mother she continued. “The Celestial Order, AEGIS, the Ushers, The Eyes of Fate, The Scourge. Many powerful groups within the Secret World are mobilizing against the Crimsonites. The cult was struck a critical blow and everyone has sensed their blood. This is now the perfect time for you all to not only avenged the souls that they have captured but to free them if you want.” Elizabeth told the wraiths.
As the ghosts talked with each other Alex walked close and lean forward. “How did you know I would be here?” Elizabeth would reply with. “A good magician doesn’t reveal her secrets.” Alex look down and saw her daughter’s shadow shifting into a wiggling blob before setting itself right. “Right… magician’s secret.” the lich retorted as her attention went back to the wraiths.

“Do those bastards truly wish to seal away the gods and have the means to do so.” the two witches turned and saw the other party that Alex called into the meeting, the one group who had suffer far worse by the cult than the wraiths. The ghouls.

The creatures had a roughly humanoid build, but their skin had grayish pallor and a leathery texture. The creatures hunched over and their rib cages were visible from their chests. On top of their heads sat a head that was vaguely human but in the place of a human mouth and nose was a canine muzzle and snot. Their eyes were pointed and resemble closely to those of bats. Their amber eyes looked upon the ghosts present. Their backward facing legs ended in hooves and their long, gangly, arms ended in long, spindly, skeletal looking fingers.
“Does this cult believe they can remove the Charnel God away from us?” the ghoul said. Alex stepped forward. “Yes. They also intend to remove all gods from the world. They also intent to remove everything in the Secret World as they believe that would ensure some sort of Utopia.” the words made the ghoul growl.

“That foul witch is made if she think she would wipe out our people so easily!” the ghoul furiously barked out. “If they wish to exterminate us all and banish our god from this world than we will join your side in combating these heretics. We want to avenge our fallen kin and make them pay for deflying our sacred sites and for either stealing or destroying our holy artifacts.” the ghoul told the two. Alex smiled at the news. Just as she was ready to extend her hand to the ghoul she heard the noble fake a cough to get her attention.

Once she turn around she saw that his posture and expression changed, he seem less arrogant from before. “We decided that if what you told us is true than we can not risk the chance that all of us would be trapped in Stygia. It doesn’t matter if you exaggerated the threat this cult possess, we can not let them capture our kind anymore. If they are truly weaken as everyone believes than we will also join in the assault to destroy these soul stealers and restore peace to the town.”
If Alex was pleased before she was now ellated. “I’m glad you all came to the right decision. With your support our chances of eliminating the Crimsonites is more likely.” Alex stepped forward and extended her hand for a shake. After a brief confusion one wraith told him what to do and the noble quickly regain his composure and shook her head. Once she was done with the wraith she turn and did the same with the lead ghoul. Elizabeth told the two parties were to meet and after a brief exchange on them getting ready both parties departed.

“This went much better than I thought.” Alex said as she began to walk out with Elizabeth in tow, the lich holding on to her staff and Elizabeth her arms behind her head. “Really? What do you think would happen” the younger Ashwood asked. “That they would call bull and force me out of the cemetery.” Elizabeth was silent. “True. If I was in their shoes I would have done the same.” the two walked past the gate and continue on in the nearly erased path to the graveyard as they walked deep into the woods to leave and regroup back in the manor with the others.



So what was it that drove him to this point? The man himself wondered. Was it hope, fear, passion, love, longing, hate? Was it for Jackie, himself, the world he left behind, this world he lived in right now? What was he fighting? Insanity, Andarta, himself, Sterling… for once, he was unsure. His mind quivered and his thoughts ran like a turbulent river, any semblance of control or purpose lost to the rapids. Yet despite all the mud in the stream, he still knew where it began and where it would end.
With Jacquelyn, or without.


Lana’s questionably sourced confidence was running out. After that night in the town, when two hundred of her men had died, and half the world had turned to shit, she’d been bolstered with this strange tolerance for violence. Her mind had shifted gears, from a fed up, glorified secretary to that of a no-bullshit, ruthless pioneer. Yet, she still understood the reasoning of her earlier self. She really was out classed here, both by her enemies and by her allies. Even after calling in just about every favour she’d been owed – and a few she had not – her forces were still woefully inadequate to face something like The Arawn Corps. Today would be a bloodbath. All she could hope to do was keep her head above the water.
“Enjoying the view?” Pendergast put his arms on the banister beside her, the two of them looking out over the hangar from a balcony. Safe, distant and isolated. The place was an abandoned staging ground, once used to deploy fleets to assault the Arctic Selkies. In the years since, it’d degraded into the AEGIS equivalent of a torn up parking lot. The floor was covered in engine parts so archaic that not even the meticulous big brother of the anomalous world had bothered to get them out of here. The walls, scrawled with hopeful murals and kill counts, seemed not to fit the grim and stony demeanour their men shared. And why would they? Their last operation had resulted in the loss of hundreds. Anything less than a tank would seem like fodder to The Crimsonites. Yet, here they were. Loading mortars, counting munitions, making sure their courage wouldn’t abandon them now.
“I think I’d enjoy it more if it didn’t look like a funeral photo,” she admitted. “So hopes aren’t high?” Amalie strode up beside her, passing a bagel into her hand. The questioning girl was adorned with lights and screens, radios chittering in her ear and notifications coming through her corneal implants. Despite lacking the capacity to state anything for a fact, the siren had an almost preternatural ability to absorb data and, given the opportunity, put it to use. “No, they really aren’t.” Pendergast straightened his jacket, while the commander took a mouthful of bread and bacon. What was she doing up here, expressing such apocalyptic thoughts, when the troops below were preparing to die? “I hope this doesn’t lessen your gumption. Cowardice never won any victories, after all.“
Lana scoffed. It was involuntary, inappropriate and instantaneous. She leant a little over the railing, her breakfast hanging precariously from her fingertips. ”Well, if bravery ever factored into a battle, I think The Romans might’ve had better luck at Cannae. If anything, history has proven that cold hearted logic trumps all else.” Arthur nodded, though he did not say much more besides; “We’re depending on AEGIS to keep things straight out there, whether by bravery or science.” The siren was a little perplexed. “Why us?” to which the usually jovial, but currently quite sombre director replied: “you’re the only ones who can be trusted to do the right, and often most difficult thing. Whisperwood, The Scourge; they have dominion and property. Their goals are like those of any other industry, or rogue. But AEGIS exists purely as a safeguard against disruption. And dare I say it, today, a bastion is precisely what we need.”
“Hey.” A man leaned at the foot of the stairs, ceramic faceplate twitching as its joints settled into place. “Kyle. I… didn’t think I’d find you here.” He stood up with a short flick of the ankle, coming face to face with Lana. He was taller than anyone else here, and uncannily lifelike. Despite knowing this wasn’t really him, she still found herself thinking at times that it really was flesh and blood that spoke to her now. She gave the drone a stiff wave, whilst Pendergast stepped forward to extend a hand. “My, this is wonderful! I didn’t think I’d be meeting you so soon, Mr. Hearse. Please, accept my warmest thanks. Your efforts have been of paramount importance in the fight against The Crimsonites!” he returned the gesture, shaking his hand, while discreetly throwing the commander a glance, and a raised eyebrow. She shook her head. “Ah, yes, Mr. Pendergast. It’s been gruelling work, weeding out their rats. Have you heard of the string of murders in the last few days? Four hundred dead in half as many nights; just shocking!”
“Hm. Quite a terrible affair, if you ask me. Now, do excuse me for a moment sir. I’ll be back to talk, once I’ve dealt with something important. Lana, would you come with me?” she shook her head, tucking her hands in her pockets. “No, sorry. I have some errands to attend to.” Amalie interjected this time, pulling the older woman over by her shoulder. “Surely, you can make some time? Couldn’t this be important?” she thought through her answer before mumbling her response. “Sure. I’ll meet you in a few minutes. Go on without me, I have some words for Kyle.” The two co-leaders bid her farewell, stepping out of the stairwell. The whole room seemed to turn its attention toward them, even before Arthur got up on a pile of timber pallets, and asked a technician to attend to him.
“Who have you got on board?” sharp whispers, sharper replies. “Whisperwood, The Hadean Enclave, The Scourge of Abaddon, AEGIS, The Ushers and a couple of uniques. The Fates and Ghouls might be lending a hand, but I haven’t been able to get in contact. I think they’re expecting Ashwood.” Lana cursed under her breath, mouth dry. She licked her lips before speaking again. “Give me a quick rundown of their numbers, their quality, their roles. I don’t want my men getting mulched out-” he started talking before she even finished her sentence. He clearly wasn’t in a mood to let anyone finish their sentences today. “Whisperwood, they want The Raven and The Corps dead. Three hundred fae, two hundred naiads. They’re strong, they’re good with water, they really hate iron. Hadean Enclave, they’re essentially martial artists. They have a core of fifty trained adherents and about two dozen ‘Pious’; basically mages. The Scourge have a hodgepodge of different guys. Their leader wouldn’t give me an exact number, and he was damn good at hiding the intel.” Lana half opened her mouth, giving Kyle another chance to reply before she said a single word. “I don’t need your numbers. Your documents are all in paperback.”
“So is this-” “it’s a courtesy call, yes. I just had to make sure that your people wouldn’t abandon the fight… and you want me to stop cutting you off.” She rolled her eyes. “Yes. Look, I’m not in the mood to be taking notes right now.” He pushed past her into the hangar, glancing over his shoulder. “on the contrary, I think that’s precisely what you want to be doing.” hands in pockets, eyes on the floor. Always closed off, never available to talk. The chatter of gunfire and the scream of unlubricated pistons echoed about here, the stench of motor oil and powdered iron lingering in sharp, electric clouds. “I’d rather tackle the pragmatic side of things than the emotional hemisphere. Amalie’s a siren, Pendergast is a negotiator. I’m not a speaker.” “then perhaps that’s why your soldiers need to hear from you?” she looked aside toward the girl, holding up a mic. “I’m kind of in the middle of something here. I’m talking with-” a robotic set of fingers clamped down on her shoulder, riveting her body, and her thoughts, in place. “You need to show yourself, Lana. You might think of yourself as a strategist, but you men see you as a leader.”
She wasn’t entirely sure how to go about this, really. In the back of her mind, she remembered a man. A stranger, and an enemy, whose words she had to live by. “Do better than me”. Perhaps it was time to accept the responsibility. Perhaps it was time to stop treating the world like an equation, and start seeing the people within it. She carefully took the microphone, and joined Pendergast on the stage just as he finished his speech. He seemed a little happier, now. Genuinely glad. “-utmost confidence in you. Now then, men. Let us hear what you esteemed commander has to say!” she gripped the spherical little thing close to her chest, staring out over a sea of faces. The assembly turned, each one making their acknowledgement known in the smallest of movements. The ones at the firing range tilted their heads, lifted their muffs. Those directly below her looked up, faces expectant. This was going to define them, make them aware of what was to come. It was, in the most cliche of ways, the moment of truth.
She hicced into the speaker, and blinked. Licked her lips, stood there. “Hello, everyone, and… thank you for being here.” silence presided, despite the din. She recognised faces in the crowd, people she might not see again. Familiarity borne from everyday conversation, rather than acquaintance. She recognised that man from the cafeteria. He disliked coffee. “I’m… very grateful that you’re joining us today.” blink. Breathe. Step, and don’t tremble. “We are...” her tongue was so dry. Had she bathed at all in the last four days? Focus, blink, breathe. Stare, and… remember. That night, when she’d lay among a dead century. When she’d thrown herself, and the lives of her men, against the enemy, and been dashed like chalk across the rocks. Words, words, words; “We are going to die.”
Oh. Oh no. Salvage it, bring it all back. Clarity, like water. Glass, shattered, revealing the idol within the case. The curtains are gone. Say what has to be said. “Maybe today, maybe tomorrow. Certainly within a century, if we’re lucky. Death is a constant; the one thing that all our greatest sciences and magics cannot counteract. Death is the final say, with no chance for appeal.” good… but what was this getting at? “I think that the sum of a life is measured in what it accomplishes. When you think of a hero, do you think of the greatest soldier? The richest banker? No. You think of the everyman, giving something his all. Sacrifice redeems, and sacrifice achieves.” pause for breath, stare them in the eyes. “We will be outmatched. Our enemies have entrenched themselves, and have used the decades at their disposal to grow their powers beyond our reckoning. Now, they stand at our borders, and threaten to encroach on our world.”
Kyle, Amalie, Pendergast. Ryan, Ginny, Karl. Paddy, Hirsch, Weston. Delilah, Nelson, Lincoln. Faces, names, people. Waiting. She wasn’t talking to them only, though. She was also telling herself what to do, what words to live by. “Beyond these walls, there is a world worth protecting. That’s something that all of you know; you’re here in the first place, after all. We are the best that humanity can muster to save itself. We are its bastions, its citadels, its legions. We will meet the bastard tide in the open field, in the darkened streets, in the cloud-covered skies. Because we all recognise that somebody has to be there. Perhaps we can’t all be as powerful as heroes; but I believe that we can be as strong. As brave, and as kind.” deep breath. Close eyes, feel the pressure bleeding away. Redeemed, and enlightened. “Our children, our ancestors, our friends; they may never know of our sacrifices, and our duty. But all of you decided to join AEGIS, and The Ushers, for a reason. We need no prize for our service. Our payment is in everything we see, touch, and hear. We’ve earned those basic sensations because without us, this world would not have such tranquil vistas. It would not have flowers to smell, or eyes to be lost in. We have earned this world’s safety through our efforts. And we’ll earn it again; as many times as it takes.”
She ended it not with a shout, but with a whisper. “Do your best out there.” and stepped off the stage, hiding the sickness in her stomach and the worms in her head. She smiled insincerely; everyone could see her hidden grimace. Still, they had to try; if they didn’t win today, when would they get another chance? The soldiers returned to their preparations, and Lana returned to the windowless box in her head.


Lines and lines and lines and lines. Trios of men, swords drawn. Their eyes linger like laser dots on his skin, piercing every inch of his plated armour. His gaze is pervasive, all encompassing. They probably feel more vulnerable than him. Even so, it’s hard to escape the feeling of helplessness that this place emanates. Zekto’Pai, the great deity which these acolytes worship, leaves no room for judgement or error. Its aura is of black and white. Whether these people want to support him or not will be a binary. Either they will, or they never will. And so, he plants his sword in the salt and walks up the steps of the spire, letting the light of the heavens waft over his body. Again and again, he sees fear.
Aelisia. The warrior, the champion, the girl with hands of porcelain, and blood of olive oil. She is amberlike, and resinous. He could scrape sawdust off her arms, if she’d let him. “Hearse.” “Penelope”. The shrivelled husk of a man which leads this cult sits behind her, cross-legged and awaiting with a glare of icy fire. “You returned.” “To claim your loyalty.” “Which we do not provide.” “You’d rather call it service.” “An apprehensive one.” “Then that, it shall be. For it is service, nonetheless.” “Without any soul?” “Perhaps. But more importantly, without any question.”
The man’s gaze was downcast, and his shoulders were slouched. Something within him warred with itself. Something about him was so evenly split, that even the certainty of his god could not tip the scales either way. “You are conflicted.” “As are you.” “I don’t feel very uncertain.” “You should.” he tilted his head, watching this dessicated wreck whisper such presumptions. “I know what I want, and what I must do to get there. I can’t say the same for you.” “Because I wonder why I want it, and whether it’s right for me to have that desire.” not this again… “I cannot change what I seek any more than you can change your past. It is a constant, not a switch.” “I, and all the people of this Earth, beg to differ. I cannot offer my assistance without good faith.”
Kyle was surprised by his hesitancy to commit. Despite the light washing over him, the purity of which compelled clear thought, this man refused to decide. “You expect me to threaten you.” the corpse stayed silent. “I will not, because I know that I do not need to.” he knelt beside it and cupped his hand beneath its chin, lifting its sunken sockets to meet his own. One of them had the deader gaze; one of them had lived their lives for far too long; and it was not the one who looked like it could be the case. “You want this battle as much as anyone else. You want to protect her. You want to protect them. And you understand as well as anyone else that The Crimsonites threaten you, and your deity.” he smiled, lips twisted into a ceramic grin. “Andarta hates people like you. You aren’t worried about winning or losing; you’re worried about being seen as weak by submitting to me.”
The crackle of dried, impotent flesh. “Believe me. Pride is the least of your worries as long as that pretender god breathes.” when he let go of the man, his fingers were stained with red dust. With no further dialogue forthcoming, he swivelled to walk down the steps. Taps and stares. He could see the men behind him turning their heads to stare, their thoughts and emotions as open as words in a book. Anger, awe and anxiety. Perhaps those were not the right emotions to inspire, but as long as they did not hurt his cause, then…
“This is a fight that you cannot win, Kyle! Once the Crimsonites are gone, who do you think the world will see as its next threat?” he kept walking. “Funny how you waited for me to leave, before speaking your mind.” the door slammed shut behind him. They both knew where to be, and when to be there.


Henry Spencer, the Grandmaster of The Scourge. He wasn’t used to seeing so many faces in one place. He was, after all, mostly a sponsor. His allies, his dependents, even his direct subordinates - they all addressed him as a friend or a patron, rather than a superior. He’d always been very careful to cultivate an aura of approachability and trustworthiness. It pained him to see so many here, their faith placed in him, when they were almost certainly going to die. They were all volunteers, but that made their losses no less impactful. It felt like he’d let them down by failing to prevent this battle in the first place. Perhaps he could’ve broken the Crimsonites in their early days...
He put his hand up to stop another from touching his shoulder. “Old men reminisce, Hearse. It’s only natural.” his eyes fluttered open and his perception came to settle on a much younger, much angrier man. Any pity he might’ve felt for the unfairly burdened boy was swept aside by his instincts, a habitual wariness and distant caution overtaking his mind. Something about this ‘partner’ of his felt off, but he couldn’t quite tell what. Of course, everything was in question whenever outsiders were concerned. Trust was a rare and hard-earned commodity, and this serial killer had absolutely none of his whatsoever.
“You’re worried that you won’t see them again.” he punctuated his last word by tilting his head toward the platoons sprawled out behind him. They sat around wooden tables with chamomile cloths draped over them, golden chandeliers hanging from the roof and burning with soft yellow flames. A bundle of vampires and lycanthropes crowded around a game of poker, the winner of which received payment in the losers’ betted blood. Twisted men, whose forms had been perverted by alchemy, science or mutation, walked about with glasses of soda and towels covered in pizza crumbs, fraternising before the final battle. Most of the men here were outcasts, even by the standards of The Scourge. Most of them saw themselves as monsters, or nomads. They were here because they were looking for redemption; purpose; or an end to their seemingly meaningless existences. Despite Henry’s best efforts, they’d never come to accept themselves.
“I’m worried that they don’t realise how much they’re losing”, he muttered. His voice had waned over the years. Even now, speaking above the quiet murmur of the room, his words seemed weedy and uncertain. Nobody here cared to make any noise; these were essentially their last rites, after all. A group of magicians and alchemists, their pasts still haunting them, downed gallons of imaginary beer in some half-ritual, half-drinking game. They couldn’t get drunk on dreams alone, but it didn’t hurt to try. Some suave demon tore the soul out of his merman assistant and juggled the all-important orb, pretending to drop it before slamming it into the merman’s heart, bringing him back to life. A common party trick in Asphodel, if a difficult one to find volunteers for.
“If that’s the case, what changed your mind?” it was an honest enough question. One with an even easier answer. A nereid chatted away beside a clay forged statue, shying away from a nearby cluster of brimstone spirits. An abyssal sat in a plush velvet chair, silently twiddling its tarsomeres. Voices and lives that’d be snuffed. All these people who thought they’d be worth more dead in a field than alive, and fighting on. Couldn’t they see? This very moment refuted all that they believed about themselves. They could live, they could be valued, despite all their shallow deformities and histories… his mind was wandering again. Protecting itself from this conversation by absorbing the world around him. The smell of rose garlands, the warmth of the candles… he immersed himself in it. Talking could wait just a little longer, right?
“It wasn’t up to me, you know. They were already planning to fight The Crimsonites; to protect their few remaining loved ones; and perish for a world that’d given them nothing. I concluded that they might be a little safer if I provided this space for them.” indeed, spirits and mages were waiting in the wings. More volunteers, and a few generous freelancers. He didn’t know whether they were here to support the battle, or just to comfort the dead. The Scourge, out of all the factions Kyle had managed to enlist, was the most human, and compassionate of them all. Yet, it was simultaneously the largest and most powerful; at least in this arena.
ObscuraToday at 4:30 AM
“You seem to have things under control here, Mr. Spencer. I wish you the best of luck. May we live to see another dawn.” the man slunk away to whatever entrance he used, while the grandmaster leaned against a wall and composed epitaphs in his head.


Whisperwood. A prince sat upon his throne of ebony and ivory, looking out upon his congregated peoples. They were itinerants by no choice of their own, their home claimed by the machinations of humanity. And now, their most sacred glade had been stolen from them by a beast of red feathers and orange eyes. The Raven, the humans called it. To them, it was simply ‘Mastodon’. It had swept aside their warriors with an ungraceful flurry, and been utterly indifferent to their most powerful magics. Now, against all the tenets set forth by their culture, they were turning to humanity for assistance.
The Prince was a warden; a peculiar species which didn’t truly reproduce. He was grown from a pod, as was his father before him. A single pine cone, with a few scales remaining. When the last seed of the fruit had been planted, the final member of their bloodline would burn it, and allow its spores to disperse; giving rise to a new forest, from which another cone would be chosen. He was dressed in elmy silks, with a smell like lavender after rain. His limbs were a bark not unlike timber, with little brown ridges covering a soft, and mushlike interior.
“I hear you are a kingmaker, Kyle.” the man strode forward, his feet sailing over the grass. This glade was the last grain of their kingdom to remain, naiads and fae circling in the waterways and skies. “More like a kingslayer, if my past is anything to go by.” he planted his foot upon the stump at the base of the prince’s throne, leaning forward and tightening his laces. It was disrespectful perhaps, but they were equals here. The man, after all, represented the interests of hundreds of his kind. Surely, if anyone could reclaim the heart of the woods, it would be him and his coalition. The arms of the throne creaked as the prince leaned forward, resinous eyes drifting between all the strange ornaments upon this emissary’s body.
“You bring many trinkets and weapons with you. You plan to conduct your assault today, correct?” the envoy stepped off the stump, and produced a short parchment, its surface covered in scrawled diagrams and lines of text. He laid it upon the felled tree, maintaining eye contact the whole while.. “That is correct, prince Etrir. Though, I must admit that I was surprised by your willingness to conduct yourself as an ally. I had to approach others to garner their support, but you chose to find me first. Why?” the prince stood up from his seat, feeling mosses and roots that’d grown over his shoulders peeled away. He had not moved in such a long time; “I was not so alone, once upon a time. The forest was our domain, many centuries ago.”
The wind swept his hair in clumps, green strands waving like wisps of silk, hanging from branches. “My father, who lived for seven eons before my reign, presided over a city. The holts were alive with uprooted riders, and the plains danced with pollen shades.” he took a deep breath, his throat rattling as the gust went down his throat. “But it was not to last. The age of nature ended, and the conquests of man began. In the end, they hardly noticed that we were there.” his voice was soft, and inaudible. The sound of straw, drying in the sun. “I always wondered whether he could have done something about it. I always wondered if I should have done something, when my father refused to act. He always said that men could learn to see us, that they could learn to coexist. So, he never rallied his citizens to swipe them from the hills, and drive them into the sea until it was far too late.”
Spirits waited in the trees, listening to the prince recount this ancient tragedy. A chorus of airy sighs abounded in the clearing, flanked on either side by a parted, crystal stream. “Men eventually grew too hubristic, too powerful. They stormed our homes with fire and iron, and torched what had stood for thousands of years. The trees screamed as they were torn from the earth, and broken into a discordant cacophony. The wisdom entombed within those untouched trunks was as comprehensive as any library or network. Now, they are scattered and rotted; dead as silent, lifeless paper.” the morning sky was filled with a borealis of meliae, howling and depositing dew wherever they landed in their daily routine. “I do not wish to stand by, and allow man to burn its own forest. The time of the green has long since passed; I do not know the extent to which the naiads and fae may think, but they are simple creatures compared to what once was. They know this, too, and hold no qualms about it. I will fight to preserve the human race, because I cannot allow another calamity to befall this great land of Wales.”
The prince drew a sword carved of rootcore and ferns, lustrous as gold and greener than algae. “Andarta threatens all things, even those that she seeks to protect. She hopes to destroy the gods, the spirits, all things besides her idea of what good humans are. Her loathing will set the world ablaze, and the conflagration shall not leave god’s realm any purer. Go, and assemble your armies. When your battle is fought, the Fae shall not leave you wanting for strength.”

California blossoms.
...
"The magnolias seem nice."
Vincent plucked one from the bouquet, bringing the nectar-rich core to his nose. He took in one dignified breath, feeling the sting of pollen in his lungs. Or rather, he imagined it. Imaginations were necessary in careers such as this. There was so little room to be prudish, so little time to be prudent. Nothing was sacred, least of all tradition. He slipped it back amongst the others, lines and lines of roses stretching from horizon to horizon. "Claudia, tell me honestly." he turned to face her, leaning down so they were eye to eye. His stature was greater, though he did not consider himself superior. Perhaps just as ambitious, but definitely not as bullheaded. "Can you do this?"
What kind of question was that? Of course she could. It had been her life up 'til now, it'd been her destiny. Cliche as it was, she'd been set on a path that night. It was too late to turn back now, not when the sharks had smelled blood. "I think I'm ready. Who's to know for certain, though?" gone was the scared little girl, the meek and gentle maiden. She had put up with Kyle's insults to save Diana. He'd receive his comeuppance. If not by her hand, then by one of those he'd wronged, she would make sure of it. Her fingers went taut for a moment. He, however, remained as relaxed and open as was possible. "I know. I know, that I know." she sniffed the air. Though it was the smell of flowers that lingered upon her nose, it was the bilious stench of fire that made it to her mind. "Can you stop being so cryptic and just tell me what you think?"

Vince gave her a smile, soft as lavender petals. "I think you can do anything." he rose to look at the sunset, a great yellow flare sinking over an impossible horizon. His skin was bathed in its glow and shaded with warm pinks, like amaranth in spring. "When you met me I was just another boy in the gutter. An embittered soul, castigated by society and left to rot. The world put a knife in my belly." his gaze fell upon his superior, her face as pale as chalk, yet her eyes as stiff as steel. "But then I saw this battered, beautiful creature emerge from the bog. I saw the scars, the spears that the universe had plunged in your chest. And then, you reached out to me." the grass was swaying. The glint of fresh raindrops still hung on their fringes, basking in the starlight.
"You helped me stand. Not just me, either. All sorts of people from all over the world. Lost souls with shattered dreams, attracted to you like moths to a lamp. You showed us all a way forward." his smile was gone now, replaced by this look of sheer determination. He stared her down and forced every last iota of sincerity he could into his words. "You've saved dozens of us from despair. Now, you're gonna save the planet." he took hold of her hand, supple fingers wrapping around clammy digits. "Amalie would be proud of you, Claudia." she flicked her hand out of his reach, leaving trails of flaked off skin on his palm. She breathed in, and breathed out. She felt her chest rising and falling, like the ebb and flow of the tide. "I hope..."

The Raven peeked its head through the door, squeezing its oiled, black body through the gate. The meadows bled away like wet paint on canvas, leaving them all standing in an empty dressing room, tins filled with perfumes and makeup laying in piles upon a vanity drawer. "Andarta. I was searching for you." she glanced at the mythic entity, absorbing its appearance. After all this time, she still felt the mildest panic at its sight. She was the only thing in the world that thought of The Raven as anything other than a legend, or a monster. She was not afraid of it, she realised. She was afraid of seeing it fall, like her. Chasing tails, as she'd squandered her health doing. In all her followers' hearts she was invincible and all powerful. In her own, she felt nothing. Andarta was just another face in the crowd, doing the same thing day in and day out. Maybe Elizabeth would break that monotony. She hoped the witch could do it, even if just for a single day. "How did you get here? I cloaked the door."

The great bird ruffled its downy coat, shy and almost timid. "Your smell. I tracked it here." Vincent nodded at the two and stepped away, shuffling around brushes and tins whilst the girl and her raven got caught up. "Andarta, this speech... pardon my forwardness, but isn't it a bit redundant? You have nothing to announce." oh. Right. The speech. That's what she was here for. A queasiness overtook her, a strain unlike the disease that festered inside her. Claudia waved her hand and crushed the space between her and the mirror, an ironbound artifact stained with soot, and ash. One of her last mementos. The cracks in the corner were still there, would always be there. She'd considered breaking the thing a thousand times over, but had never followed through. Perhaps she wanted a memento of her childhood. Perhaps she considered that trauma too vital to who she was. She resisted the urge to vomit, and suppressed the pain in her wrist. She had to put on a strong face. She could never show her vulnerabilities to her friends. They needed her to be invincible. They couldn't lose the lie.
"I don't need to justify myself, Raven." not to them, openly. If she did, something wrong might slip out. "Of course, Andarta. It is your unity that brought us all here today, after all." god, what was she doing this for? Did she want to feel accomplished by beholding all that she'd managed to pull together? Did she want to stare her men in the face and tell them to stay by her side, even through this massacre? No. She wanted to say something. Something, something, anything. Get out there and fucking talk to her people. A table slid in front of her, tortured air conveying a pile of exotic spices and pigments beneath her chin. Vincent stepped forward, helping her tie her hair in a bun. "Are you sure you don't want me to speak today? You were feeling ill just earlier."
She dipped one finger beneath her collar, pulling it away with a nodule of gangrenous flesh latched beneath her fingernail. The Raven stalked out of the room, and her assistant picked up a brush, ready to perpetuate her lie. "I'm sure, Vincent. They need to hear from me, for once." in truth, she only believed one thing. She needed to be the one out there today.

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Demincia
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Founded: Jul 08, 2010
Democratic Socialists

Reading aloud is even worse

Postby Demincia » Fri May 10, 2019 12:34 pm

So it was that she stepped outside to a smattering of applause, and one thousand pairs of eyes. Crimsonites, Corps, cults and families. They looked up at her expectantly, shivering in the morning breeze. The courtyard was matted with grass, high concrete walls rising around them. Beyond those stony palisades was a ghost town, its inhabitants reduced to inconsequential shades many years ago by some ritual gone awry. A Crimsonite ritual. It was impossible to find the place. Anyone who got too close would simply walk in one direction forever, the path stretching before them to keep them at arm's length until they decided to turn around. The sun was shining, the trees were blossoming with many strange shades of blue. Snow fell, and harsh LEDs stood above the rest of the congregation. Behind her, a great black rift swelled and moaned, a rift in space leading to someplace darker, and more abyssmal. Her stronghold, and the prison of a being more terrible than anything she'd had to confront before. They were lined up in rows before her, soldiers at the front and civilians at the back. Their traditional garb were on full display, lines of black kevlar turning into red robes, and then an eclectic mash of different magical groups' uniforms. A sigil wavered in the sky, a ring of black lines dancing as they kept this place shielded from the beasts of the sky.
She was stalling.
Taking in inconsequential details.
Thinking about it, too.
She knew what she was doing.
She opened her mouth.
"Welcome, all of you." she was covered in crimson linens, a billowing cloak draped on the ground behind her. A black wool collar ate up her neck, stained tan with blush and ointment. "I know this journey has cost many of you dearly." the image of a barrel, and the thought of a scream. "The burden has weighed heavily on us all. Our families, our friends, our lives, have been disrupted by our enemies." already running out of things to say. What else? What could she say? Inspiring words, ones that she'd recited to herself every night, failed her now. "But we have stood strong, and planted our feet on the ground. We've been firm, and uncompromising, and..."
Three hundred. A fifth of her followers, killed by a callous and uncaring foe. Some had been drowned in their sleep, electrocuted by their own appliances, killed by coincidences. Others, the majority, had died by a man's hand. One man, one demon. She saw their fear, their trepidation, their anger. They wanted her to kill him? To break him like a stick? How!? How could she save them when she could barely even hold herself up? This was a farce. It was ridiculous. They were staring, they were looking at her fumbling, failing in front of them. They faith was tenuous, but now it was broken. How could anyone, anyone believe in her, even if she lied? All her strength, all her supposed power, had done nothing to defend them from genocide. Was that... was that girl looking away? Her eyes, they were still peeking. She could see her illness, couldn't she? She could see her sickness, her weakness. This was gross, this was disgusting, this was disgraceful. She'd been strong once! She'd been a paragon, a beacon to those around the world that hope was alive. Hope for a better world, one where the dead didn't return to haunt the living, and where gods didn't exist to twist men's minds into hateful javelins. She wanted it, so bad. But now? That seemed more like a dream than a goal.
Give it up. There's nothing to do, now. Tell them. Tell them. Her head spun, her brain swirling around in a pool of brine. The scalding sunlight flayed her skin, drew imaginary, incandescent blood. Everything was so bright, and fiery. It had been days sine she'd stepped out of her room. Her conflict with the firebrand had left her with scars and weaknesses that still stung, that still perforated her heart and seared her flesh. Tell them. She had to do it. There was no other option, nothing else to do. She'd nearly died just three days ago. She'd watched The Brigadier and his Corps mourn hundreds of their friends, and even their families, at the same time. She'd lost Terry before that, and Diana last night. Her best friend was dead. Her most trusted companion had abandoned her. The person she'd seen herself in, the person who she'd related to; Elizabeth, rejected and hated her. They were both from arcane families; they'd both suffered traumas that'd taken someone they loved; they both contended with their ages. Yet, the alcoholic witch was handling it better. She had friends, compatriots, friends who followed her for who she was, rather than what she could offer. It's over, it's over, it's over! Just say it! Admit it!

Silence. Deafening, overwhelming, compounding upon itself until it felt like her mind would fracture.
"I-."
Thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump
"I'm s..."
Heart, pounding. Ears, bursting. Why now? Panic attack. Breathe in, breathe out. Steady, don't let them know. Keep lying to them. She would be nothing without the illusion. Keep fucking lying, keep pretending that progress was made. Just keep telling them to hang in there. Keep telling them that things are moving forward, that things will get better. Why not? It's been going on for years. Why stop? She needed them. Diana and Terry, Diana and Terry... the two people she loved most in the world. She abandoned one, and was abandoned by the other in turn. She deserved it. Comeuppance, coming her way. The universe didn't leave any evils unpunished, after all.
"Andarta!"
Brigadier.
"Graveyard, now. Code red."
Snap.
But, she didn't go where The Brigadier wanted her. She didn't take it with her, either.
She screamed into an empty, mute void. She howled into an infinite expanse of black basalt, kneeling on the ground. So unstable, so immature. She felt such overwhelming guilt. Amalie died trying to make her a better person. Her friend had failed in that regard. She was still a liar, and the leader of some perverted cult. So what if she knew it was all a lie? Her parents had been true believers, and they'd done less harm than her. She'd hated them with a passion, a drive that'd led her to burn that house down. She remembered the smell of gasoline, and the silky texture of the matchbox. Her mind was filled with sensations. The embers sizzling on her arms, the smoke choking her lungs. The cult hideout turned charnel house, with her parents' bodies buried inside. She'd never gone back there, never bothered to find their bones. She felt such guilt because she hated them. They hadn't been bad people, they'd believed in what they were doing! They'd been tricked and perverted by a god, whose influence had twisted their bloodline for generations. Her parents had believed in what they were doing, and never lied about who they were, or what they'd done. She'd given her acolytes no truths, nothing to latch onto other than the promise that this 'idol' could save them all. What a laughable fantasy. What a horrifyingly selfish thing to believe.
Slowly, the magnitude of her deception dawned on her. The Brigadier, The Reavers and The Corps wanted a hopeful future. They fought for anyone who seemed to have the will, and the power, to avert the terrifying fate that humanity faced. They believed in her, and now all but a few dozen were dead. Diana had followed her because she'd viewed her as a mother, or an older sister. She'd believed that Claudia could show her a virtuous path; one that led to success, rather than the dead end despair that the assassin had been trapped in when they'd first met. But the truth was, Andarta had only ever managed to keep up a facade of success. Diana had believed in her, and now she was dead. Terry joined the cult to be a part of something new. He'd been searching for something lost to him; Ashwood, and her posse. He'd seen her back then as someone whose motivation and charisma matched the ravenborn witch. He'd believed in her, and then he'd slowly come to realise just how lacked she was. And so, he'd left. The Raven still stayed by her side, but it was afraid. It fought for her. Not its world, or anything more tangible. Its loyalty, based on false pretenses, was all that kept it from turning tail and running. And Vincent? Well, he was a whole other can of worms...
She had failed.
Leave them to their own devices, she supposed.
Perhaps, by abandoning them, she was showing them mercy.
Perhaps, now that she was gone, they could find themselves, independent of some self-appointed champion.

Perhaps this defeat would turn out to be a good thing.
...
Ha. She hadn't even realised, but... she'd become the very thing she despised.
A god, inspiring baseless faith.
Certainly, she no longer needed to pretend.



She was gone. Kyle took one long stride toward The Brigadier, hands in his pockets and his eyes in the sky. This place was absolutely matted with protective seals. The whole dome was airtight, and utterly impregnable. Almost a century's worth of accumulated warding energy, curled into a shield for this petty little cult. He carried no weapons, and his fingers gripped no devices. His gaze fell upon a slip of paper, just jutting out the underside of The Brigadier's shoulder plates. It was in black battle gear and prepared to fight, though its reavers were conspicuously absent. Preparing to kill him, no doubt. "Briggie, don't you think memes are a little hostile?" it silently reached into its armor and drew out the whole photograph, flipping it like a card to present to the man. He sighed, leaning against a tombstone. "Espers, man. I thought you knew! Their imaginations kill 'em dead, unless they're invulnerable to memetics. All the early models of, well... me? Their minds dreamt, conjuring up all sorts of images. Turns out, it doesn't take long for a brain to think itself to death. So put that thing away, pal."
He scratched at something on the back of his neck, hissing through his teeth. "Did you like what I did with Ford, by the way? I didn't think a man could be so irresponsible with a broken toothbrush, but here we are, talking with one man missing." The Brigadier's head was filled with taut brass strings, shimmering and wavering as they attuned themselves to the world around it. Its long and venerable memory had learned many millions of subtle social cues and for each one it noticed, one of those strings managed to pick up on it. Yet, the esper's intentions remained a mystery. Everything about his demeanor was wrong in tiny, insignificant ways. "Y'know, that card you've got there? Gilligan Holwerner type kill agent. Nasty things, but easy to innoculate yourself against."
"There are a lot of theories out there with the same thesis. 'We've cracked the code! This is why humans are susceptible to memes!' or, 'we've discovered an algorithm! Infinite memes for everyone!' all of them are wrong, of course. Y'see, they get one thing wrong. They think memetics are sacred." he slipped off his seat, pacing forward. The packed earth beneath his boots creaked with every step, and his misted breath hung in clouds beneath his chin. He stepped over some invisible boundary and hundreds came into view, peeking over headstones and poking their weapons through the windows of a mausoleum. There were a lot of lost souls here; there'd been more, before Andarta had rounded them all up. "Thing is, memetics are just ingrained in your dumbshit monkey brains. Doesn't matter who you are or where you come from, your neurons are wired a certain way. For example; y'look at pasta, and you think 'yum'! That's a meme. Not a very strong one, but a meme nonetheless, because it tells you 'yummy', and 'yellow'."
He paused just a few feet from The Brigadier, smiling and speaking with this soft, casual drawl. "The ones that kill ya are brown notes. They're make your minds short circuit. Now, I know AEGIS has a database of all the lethal kill agents in the world; your troops are all wearing filtered goggles. Thing is, they never bothered to filter out other kinds of threats... now did they?" he flicked a piece of paper out from his sleeve, a seemingly random jumble of greys and greens scrawled all over. The Brigadier's processes shut it out, uploading the filter data to all its subordinates' visors as well. Kyle turned in a circle, showing off the image to an impervious crowd. "Man, you're a gullible son of an AI, aint'cha?"
A great surge of power ran through the humid fog, an overwhelming transmission cutting out all comms. The signal was all pervading, consuming the airwaves with white noise. The Brigadier's update link was severed. By what, though? Nothing without substance could penetrate the barrier. Was this his play? Was this the man's trap? It desperately tried to pierce the shroud, and seal the barrier. Its efforts came too late, however. A dozen men stepped through the unsealed aegis, losing naught but a few scraps of skin while the dome attempted to block itself up. They opened up while drones entered behind them, firing into a sea of soldiers who couldn't even perceive their enemy. They were covered in memetic triggers; the same ones Kyle had shown him. They were dead in two seconds flat, half a hundred guns each taking three shots a second. Three hundred men, mowed down without even knowing it.

Just like that, all that remained of The Corps was gone. Without a moment to mourn, without a moment to think. The esper and its legion had burnt The Brigadier's army down in an instant. Kyle smiled, finally satisfied. The things that came through the barrier, they were covered in metal plates and porcelain. They were machines, constructed to interface with his mind. It struck in an instant, a viper hoping to poison the heart, so as to kill the limbs. Its hand passed cleanly through the murderer's neck, cleanly cutting his head off. But instead of blood, a grey ooze flowed from the stump. A grey ooze that burned. nanobots, piercing its armor and trying to find a way in. It shrugged its shoulders, electric sparks dancing along its whole body. Grey ash fell out of its joints; the remains of the bots which had tried to crawl in.
"Briggs... what a disappointment. Did you think sending fodder would ever work?" he spread out his arms, battle lines of metal assembling behind him. Flying hunters, walking amalgams of flesh and steel, mechanical brutes, cannon mounted on theoretical wheels. "It's time you stopped assuming numbers were ever on your side. Bring out your reavers, bring out your elites. Stop me now, or..." he lowered his head, and wiped the grin off his face. "bring me Jacquelyn."
Analysis.
Reaction time, immeasurable. Perception, incalculable. Attempting to trick the target was out of the question. Numbers? Twelve artificial humanoids. Thirty airborne devices, maximum airspeed and ordnance unknown. Eight nonstandard entities, roughly arachnid and extremely large; probably artillery. One nanite transmitter; clearly the source of the controlling signal. The strategy of cutting the serpent's head off remained the same, although the kill method had changed. Could it beat them? Possibly. Combat data on the target was vague at best, and an obvious misdirection at worst. The Brigadier held an advantage in individual strength and versatility. Possibly. The target held a definite advantage in all other areas.
So clearly, fighting would be the most illogical decision in the world.
"Hearse. I wondered when you'd show yourself. You got tired, didn't you? Tired of picking off housewives and their children." a long rifle appeared in its hand, though it could hardly be called one. It was more like a white triangle, hanging just above its forearm. Compared to the weapons of war that it faced down - the inventions of some diabolical madman - it was practically quaint. "I felt you tearing her from me. I heard her last thoughts lingering in the air. Thoughts of agony." it stuck an accusatory finger out, though it knew that the gesture could be implied from its speech. The esper was a bastard like that. "You handed her over, knowing they'd pick her apart! You knowingly killed a mother, and left a child to be experimented upon for the rest of her life!" the army shrugged, and spoke as one. "I mean... yeah. That's what happened."

"How can y-" and then four dozen new orifices manifested on The Brigadier's body, dispersing its consciousness like sand in the tide. "Good thing this dome's protectin' ya, buddy! The ghouls want their pound of flesh!" he watched as the gestalt fled, seeking the rift in order to find another host. 'Kyle', and the rest of his squad, turned around to watch the dome going down. Now that the graveyard perimeter had fallen, there wasn't a reason to maintain the barrier any more. Lana came through, driving between the graves. She looked on with dispassionate distaste, seeing hundreds of corpses laying in burning heaps. The sky was an acidic black, tinted by powdered bone and flesh. Cadaverous aroma aside though, the morning had been rather pleasant so far. She shared one look with the esper, before having to turn her head away. Wordlessly, an army came marching out of the fog, ready to be a part of something undoubtedly terrible, yet seemingly inevitable.
"Go get 'em buster." those were all the words that Kyle shared before he and the rest of his proxies melted away.



The others had left the house sometime ago. it was quiet. Well, as quiet as it could be, anyway.
Someone had written a note, describing where they had gone, and had included a picture and directions to the portal.
however, Madi had other methods of travel that what they most likely had in mind.
She had half a mind not to even go, but what if they actually needed her help for once?
Besides, she needed to get out there, fight something, try to get her mind off of....that.
-
Madi stood at the base of the steps at the back of the manor, merely watching the sun rise.
"Our allies have left without us? For what reason?"
Fafnir's forked tongue flicked in and out as he spoke, and he moved from Madi's left shoulder to her right.
"Maybe because they didn't want me to interfere. I'm going to, whether they want me to or not."
The Witch went back inside the manor and picked up the double bladed axe, Graduis, and titled it back enough to look at her reflection, then desummoned the axe/put it in a pocket dimension where she could summon it as needed, double checked where the portal was, took a deep breath, then spun around. With a muted pop she was gone.
-
And then in a graveyard surrounded by.....dead people.

"....How the Hell did...."
Madi slowly turned around in a circle, before she caught something out of the corner of her right eye-the portal. She could see to the other side, it appeared to be another graveyard, then a hill after that.
"...Well...Here goes nothing."
The Witch approached the portal, and, after a second of hesitation, stepped through.
-
She found herself in another graveyard, this one was also home to dead people. Everywhere.
Madi picked her way through the ruins and started to walk up the hill shortly after.

She reached the top of the hill and then stopped, looking down at the sight before her in silence.
"....Yeah, no, I'm not going down there by myself."
So Madi decided to wait for the others....However long that took.



"So they are hiding within old Cemetery Hill? Some how I should have seen this coming, it's the largest graveyard in town." Elizabeth said as she lean against car, looking at the gate to the graveyard from across the street. Elizabeth and her group were awaiting for the other cults and groups to arrive. So far the Gardners and Transcendaii have kept their word and have not tried to kill each other. The Fates aren't trying to swindle them which is good. The wraiths and ghouls were hiding but they were ready for the raid.

The witch had a few surprising allies join in the last second like members of the Church of the Pure and Outspoken after they had a change of heart and figured that helping her save the world was worth whatever wrath Andarta woukd bring down in them. All and all the witch felt proud on the army she made.

The witch took out a cigarette and lit it. With her hands in her coat pockets she began to lead her group into the cemetery.



The Prince, Etrir, beheld a jungle of stones and angles. His aides floated by his side, glimmering like jewels amongst a granite facade. Between him and the enemy below was a swirling mass of spirits and fairies, little sparks that drifted from plant to plant, gathering dew in little floating clumps, creating a meadow of shining bubbles. His sword, its rooty hilt bound around his wrist, hung just above the soil. He let it fall for a moment and its tip sifted through the dirt for just a fragmented instant. Vines, creepers and thorns burst at its touch, crawling all over his body and surrounding him in a thicket of jacketed bark. He moved through it as easily as empty air, the stems and trunks moving out of his way. He was attuned to all life. He was part of the cycle, a conduit through which the planet's living nature flowed. He could whisper to the stream, and ask it to assist him wherever he needed its blooming blessings. He made one sweeping gesture and all the creatures of the land and sky turned to face him, their snouts turned up. Crickets and ants sought his voice, birds flocked to attend to him. All, but one. A beast with orange eyes, part of a different cycle. A creature from a different world, whose heart was isolated from all things of this terrestrial world.

It pruned its feathers and sharpened its beak on a boulder, drawing sparks as it carved scores into the stone. Its wings were an oppressive canopy over the battlefield, winds buffeting the sprites that attempted to approach it, and dashing them against the earth. The prince had heard many apocryphal claims over the centuries, all more extreme than the last. They said that this creature was born from a necrotic swamp, from which all manner of terrible things had emerged. The Hydra, the leviathans, the cacodaemons of the Norse isles. Some said that it had hunted in a world adjacent to earth, a shadowy place that fed off the rotten underbelly of creation. They said that it existed to feast on maggots, and to one day be returned to its rotten existence. They said that it was some harbinger of rot and disgust, indicating the end of life's era in this world. The prince believed none of the facts, but truthfully believed in The Raven as a symbol. As a price that had to be paid, as a punishment that had to be endured. It was the thing that'd stolen his home, and desecrated the citadel of his peoples long after his father's reign had ended at the hands of the ironworkers of Britain. He could not bring his vengeance to bear upon humanity; it was a worthless endeavor. Perhaps, though, he could help preserve what was left by destroying this bird. He'd leave this earth more lively, one way or another.

Henry Spencer, or as he'd been known in his younger years, Abaddon, presided over a ragtag group of vagabonds. All of them were at the end of their tethers, resigned to throw their lives away in the pursuit of others' safety. He didn't know how they'd come to the conclusion that this was what was necessary. Did they truly believe in a society which had rejected them, or were they here to escape that crushing pressure to conform? To be normal, or wither? He'd felt that same emotion a long time ago, on the scale of many eons. Back before the first molds had crept across the barren lands, he'd lived amongst his brothers and sisters in brassy luxury. Mephistopheles, Lilith, Lucifer, friends of his who'd fallen over time. He had stood by whilst God created the kingdoms of light and dark. He had watched while Prometheus shaped men out of clay. Or had they evolved from those peculiar simians that Gabriel had favored so? His memory was fuzzy. Perhaps he really was just this senile old human, with delusions of a glorious past.

Lucifer, his brother. The greatest, and most intelligent of the lot. The pick of the litter, the prime of the angels. Cast down by a paranoid god. Or had his arrogance been his downfall? He didn't remember his beginning, but he remembered his end. Laid to rest in a field, too tired to sustain human curiosity any more. The day man's pride and hubris had died, Rome had fallen. They had sunk back into a regressive cycle, the one that the angels had tried to create for them in Eden. Lifestyles defined by repetition and worship, with happiness and independence being optional. Mephistopheles had lost himself stopping that bastard Abraxas from ripping humanity to pieces. He'd interfered in global matters to prevent the serpent's plans from coming to fruition; a vast war, leading to the eradication of all that was beautiful on this planet. And it was beautiful, indeed. Their art, their unity, their anger and their disparities. They were flawed and ultimately, incredibly inspiring. With lives as short and fickle as candle flames, they'd managed to escape the confines of this lonely rock, as well as those of their god. He wondered what they might do, if they were given just a little more time to live; a little more power to wield. He wondered if they'd follow the path that the heavens did; burning themselves to a crisp, chasing veneration.

Lana watched over the legions sprawled out before her, standing upon the slopes of this overshadowed hill. In truth, the defensive hexes of this place were overwhelmingly powerful. They should've all been sawn in half, or ripped to giblets by invisible forces by now. Yet, reality did no such thing. Its violent hand was stayed by a soothing presence, a lyre's tune. Amalie, the siren, asked the most important question of all. Would the world leave them alone, so that they could stand on their own? It answered with calm. There was no breeze, no weather, no sound. Just the murmur of men, and the slow clack of clockwork machines. Behind her great metal spires stretched up toward the sky. She had brought machines with her, engineered marvels conceived to protect, and designed to destroy. Her strength was not her own, like Whisperwood's inherent power. It was not born of loathing like The Raven's, or sacrificial logic like The Scourge's. It was generated by thoughts of home, and a desire to hold a child in one's arms, and be able to say with certainty that they would be safe.

AEGIS was not just a name. It was a statement, a thesis, a mission. A bold shout, screamed upon a ledge overlooking the throngs of abomination. Every man here was willing to stand alone, to fight by themselves to preserve reality. If they'd simply wanted careers they would have joined The Order, or GLADIUS. Every man who fought with her today did so out of a conviction, a belief that there was something out there worth preserving. Perhaps a fiance, perhaps a friend. Perhaps a family, perhaps a home. Always something, though. Always a memory, whether of something tangible or incorporeal. Everyone else here was an arrow. Precise, dynamic, offensive. All these cults and organisations were fighting in order to achieve something, or to reclaim a lost possession. Peace, safety, or something else. AEGIS? They were here to preserve what they already had. They were an anchor, braving the storm. They were all that pinned down this planet, and kept it from drifting into depravity. They were the counterweight to all other ideologies, no matter what they preached, and no matter what they fought. They were going to maintain balance, keep the world in order. Because if they didn't do it, then who else would?

Probably The Scourge, or The Celestial Order, or like... literally any other organisation, but you get the point.
The Crimsonites were arrayed in a less orthodox fashion, hiding within the confines of a timber and concrete city. They held their weapons close to their chests, and made sure no move was made unnecessarily. They were on the back foot, and not a single one of them misunderstood what they were. Dead meat. Grunts, sent to hold the line while the real fighters cleaned up the streets. Vincent cracked his knuckles and smiled with the force of a hurricane, a wave of unease sweeping over the opposing army from that one simple gesture. Amalie stared him down, rolling her eyes. The Raven flapped its way into the air, screeching whilst eyeing up its next targets. Those who met its gaze felt themselves sinking back into some primordial fearfulness, the mindset of a prey creature. The leaders on both sides were determined, and fierce. Nothing like their followers, whose fear and anxieties grew by the second. There was really no reason for The Crimsonites not to just wipe them out with some overwhelming weapon. And so, that was the first thing they tried.
The air above them shimmered and broke into stained fractals, a thousand lethal images and noises screaming at the assembly. They clutched their bleeding heads, feeling hot magma swirling in their eardrums, and leaking from their nostrils. Amalie whistled a single note, a clear and crisp tune that buffeted the incoming storm, beating back the nightmares that human minds could conjure. A dozen mortars struck the hillside, raining chunks of burning wood; Etrir's shield surged like the tide above them, creaking as it blotted out the sun, and any further images. The light of the fae illuminated the battlefield, bathing it in a dull green and blue. A beam of flame coalesced at one end of the arena and pounced upon the other, a cyclonic blast threatening to sweep them away like milled chaff. Spencer broke the waves with his fists, and scoured the other meadows with the deflected fire, leaving only his allies preserved.
Frankly, it didn't seem very fair.
"Andarta!" Lana yelled. "It's not too late to stop this! You're outnumbered, and outclassed. Hand yourself in and we can discuss terms! It doesn't have to end like this!" her words were like javelins, breaking the self-imposed silence that both sides had been preserving. "Claudia is not available," Vincent retorted. "If you want to get to her, you'll have to go through us!" he put a fist to his chest, roaring. "We are the Crimsonites! We are the followers of Andarta. We seek a future free of deific filth, and the suffering that anomalies bring about. Do not lie to me, Lana. You, and all your compatriots, have lost many things to the strange, and unnatural." he gesticulated wildly, splaying out his arms and pointing at all the people who stood with him. "If you are too dedicated to the status quo, then so be it. We'll save this world, and you too, even if we have to break you to do it!"
"So be it." she whispered.



Deidre Skye, Great Matriarch of the Welsh division of the Caretakers, looked upon the city of crumbing stone and decay with disgust. Beneath her feet a writhing mass of pulsating vines spread out to cover the coarse and dried blades of grass with their thick and wet bodies. As the vines broke through the aged confides of coffin buried underground they would merge with whatever was left of the skeletons like creepers on the wall of a building begin to grow on them until they completely cover the remains.

At her side were not only her loyal attends and followers, but their lovely creations. Chimerical entities made by fusing the bodies, minds, and souls of many of Gaia's children into one to create a superior being. Many of them bore resemblance to creatures of Legends, many of which were simply beasts and spirits that fused many different parts of terrestrial life into one body. Yet other creations were far more alien such as the worm-like tree with many tendrils on it's gaping maw, the multi limb humanoid giants with bulbous heads and too many eyes, the flying kites whose exposed bones acted like blades that can cut even stainless steel as easily as flesh.
She can feel the thoughts of her followers through the telepathic network that they have created. She can feel their sense of duty to their cause, she can feel their fear for the coming battle and their mortality, she can feel their courage and bravery even among those who seem to lack either qualities. Skye may not be linked to the minds of the other faction members but she imagines that they too had conflicting emotions on the battle that they will partake in.

She saw the ebony avian monstrosity. While many saw it as merely a monster that needs to be put down like most of the Crimsonites the matriarch felt pity for the creature. The Raven was very much a scared and confused child taken from their home and family and clung on to the nearest paternal figure it can find to help it survive in a world that was as alien to it as he was alien to most other beings living in the world. The monster was very much a deluded pawn to the cult as much as other followers who have joined the cult.

In another time perhaps she would have helped the creature find it's home or make it live in a enclosure that perfectly mimic it's home environment? But at las this was not meant to be. The Raven would not leave the woman who helped it for many years regardless if she can offer it a way back home, at least that is what she is suspecting from the creature. Maybe there is hope that she can convince it to leave the cult but for now she hasn't seen any signs that is a likely outcome.

As Skye lift one hand up for a bird to land on her hand she began to send out a calming wave through the telepathic link to sooth the nerves of those afraid, to reassure them that they will not only win this battle but should they die their souls will become one with Gaia. The woman felt the life energy of the planet course through her veins, it entering and exiting her mouth as she breathed, she saw it with her own eyes and felt it by senses that no words in the modern vocabulary can be used to describe them. She can feel the gentle touch of Gaia carassing and penetrating her body to touch her soul, to forge a bond with it to not only allow her to use Gaia's powers to smite the heretics that threatens her but to also bring her back to her bosoms once her time on this mortal plane is at a end.
The bird flew off her hand as she brought it down, the woman took out a dagger. Turning her hand over she cut her palm, letting blood pool at the cut. She turn it around and clinch it tightly, letting drops of blood drip on the ground and form a pool on the soil. As she sang a hyme the other mages did the same as her as they cut their palms and seem to feed the ground itself with their blood as they sang.

Those with arcane senses can feel that this display of blood letting was a catalyst for something as something was growing within the ground. The Caretakers were creating life before everyone, showing them all how they have earned the nickname of gardener.
Gibson watch the enemy behind the camera lens of the robotic platform he brought with him to battle. The computational wizard was in no condition to fight in a war, a car accident from his past ensured that he can never stand on his own two feet without assistance. Instead he chose to join by using one of his robots to be present while he helped with the computational thaumaturgy within the safety of his home.

The other cabalist were not like him, each one instead came into the fight with their own machines and AIs to fight against the Crimsonites. Many lived up to their auger nickname as each one had prosthetic and implants attached to their bodies, some being more machine than man. Robots of many shapes and sizes congregate around them. Some were of beasts made of brass and clockwork, others were autonomous flying drones, some were miniature tanks with illegal military grade weapons attached to them, and some were simulacra of human beings, some falling down to the dark depths of the uncanny valley and others escaping from the pit with wondrous results as no one can't be sure if some of the cabalists were indeed heavily modified humans or androids.

Gibson knew that he could always upgrade his damage spine with implants and chips to restore his mobility, and he was given the option before. But while he knew he can return his ability to walk it still didn't change that he was a mentor and manger, he was no fighter. He was more for moral support and strategic planning, he can not help anyone in a fight as he spent most of his life as a programmer, not as a warrior. More importantly his body was aging and with it comes the many complications that age brings with it. He knew that sooner or later his body will shut down, a natural response to when one reaches a certain age and the body can not work as efficiency as it use it back in youth.

Gibson may have rejected his chance to fix his legs but he will not reject the chance to extend his life. His body will continue to age and deteriorate, the faulty neurons on his head will also bring about a gradual deterioration of his mind. But he knew that some within the cabal have made the process of mind uploading into a reality. He can transfer his consciousness into the net and exist as a digital lifeform. The neuromancer had not become a digital being yet slowly because he has not yet fully completed the augmentation process to initiate the upload, yet he was able to do a whole mind emulation so should he die unexpectedly he would still be around as a digital copy.
The robot looked at the other group as it's eyes were set at the enemy, looking for any flaws that he can share with the other cabalists with their wireless connection. As a large spider tank stomp forward Gibson step back, aware that he would need to use his drones to watch the battlefield while he acted as the group's many planners to bring forth victory.

From his pack metallic saucers and clouds of nanomachines flew out as they began their surveillance of the town to project a detailed map for Gibson. The neuromancer ponder briefly if he should keep the information his drones sent him to the cabal only but he cast it aside, he would honor his agreement with Ashwood and the other members and assist them to the best of both his and the cabal's abilities. Gibson sent a copy of the map to Lana once the map was complete.

Rhodri and Sieffre were never much friends nor were they enemies. The ghoul who called himself Rhodri was once a noble like Seiffre, yet unlike the wraith he was born with a gene that predisposed him to an eventual transformation into the corpse eating creature that he is now. Seiffre by contrast never knew much of the Secret World when he was alive, only learning more about the other world after his death and when he found himself as a wraith.

Sieffre tried to carve a small duchy for himself back in Stygia but the noble found to his dismay that the powerful oligarchics known as the Stygian Lords were ruthless and despicable, their morality has long sense decayed along with their humanity. Not only did he refuse to associate himself with men who acted more like demons, but the nobles in their ranks despised seeing a relative new comer try to reach their ranks. When trump up charges were placed against the Welsh noble that would have saw him being soul forged he abandoned his failed duchy to escape the kiln. His former lands now swallowed as just a minor piece in a larger empire ruled by another tyrant.

Rhodri on the other hand had to live as a homeless outcast once he transformed, hiding from humanity less he incites a mob to kill him for being a demon. The ghoul would find others of his kind not long after and for a while he would struggle with adjusting to his new life. A man use to dining on the finest meals and living in a lavish castle and villa wearing the finest cloths of his time, it was no surprise that he would despise his new diet of decaying meat, to wear frayed and ragged clothes to hide his body, and to live in subterranean tunnels like a rat.

Yet as he hated his living condition he began to see the appeal of being a ghoul as not only was he immune to aging and most diseases, even regenerating much faster than before. But he found that he can gain information from the brains that he devoured. This ability set off a quest for the ghoul to gain as much knowledge as he could, to truly know more about the world he was in. In his quest he would discover the Charnel God, Mordiggian. At first he refused to worship the god, never once being an entirely faithful man in life he saw no reason to start so in his new state.

But his travels would make him slowly begin to believe in the god as he gradually soften his stance on his status as a ghoul. He would eventually become the leader of the ghoul clan of this town and would set about a compact with the humans to set boundaries so neither species would interfere with each other.

Rhodri was an avid supporter of the compact as it allowed his people to consume on human meals with the fear of being killed if spotted being lessen as one of the terms of the compact stated that the humans would cover up all ghoul activities, just as they would help cover up any activities the humans were engaged with. It was a mutual agreement that benefited both parties as each had something the other need, food and safety for the ghouls and information and evidence disposal for the humans.

The compact was not perfect, nothing is ever perfect, but it worked for all of the years it stood. Yet when the Crimsonites began their genocide against the ghouls they found no one came to their aid save for the wraiths, the cult having intimidated the others into submission. It was the wraiths who they had disagreements at time due to entrances and exits from their tunnels being located close to or on a haunt that chose to help the ghouls, they too suffering from the rampage of the cult as their numbers were being round up and imprison to be used as power generators.

The two groups have forged a closer bound due to both races being actively hunted by the cult and their deranged leader who wishes to destroy everything that does not fit with what she believes to be normal. The ghouls were saying their final prays as they prepared their weapons. The wraiths flew above the army and like the ghouls were ready for the final fight against the cult and the liberation of their people.
Remy held on to a flak and drank the contents within. He was standing next to the butterfly users as he spoke. "You know, I think we should have tried harder to convince Ashwood on joining us." he said as he closed the tap on the flask. "Our job is to make the impossible possible for our clients, but even we have limits on what we can do. Getting this many groups together on something I thought was something we could never do but the little missy somehow found a way to do it. I wonder what was her secret?"

The bokor saw the mercenaries and assassins the Fates hired or made for the fight. He knew that most were cannon fodder with a few like himself and his fairy like partner being the special units for the Fates. Yet as he saw the other armies he wonder if bring in more cannon fodder was even necessary?
As Lana gave the cult one final chance to surround everyone knew that none of them would do so, it was obvious that a cult that was willing to attack the Ushers in public would never listen to AEGIS regardless on how powerful they were. The occult army was prepared for this fight, they knew that there was no turning back from it. Just as the Crimsonites were dedicated on their mission to eradicate the supernatural and create their utopia the Branwhrn Occult Coalition was determined to keep the world as it is and ensure that they will fail, just like many other cults that sought to forcibly change the world to fit with their vision of what a utopia is.

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Demincia
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Founded: Jul 08, 2010
Democratic Socialists

Like, taking 8 hours worse.

Postby Demincia » Fri May 10, 2019 12:37 pm

Far beneath the surface, in a tomb of stone, lay a girl. Afraid of the world outside, she stayed in her cocoon, always using her strength to escape, or to fight. Her past was this overwhelming behemoth to her, a past populated by strange occurrences and horrifying deeds. A history that she was thankfully isolated from. Those memories, though they existed in her head, weren't hers to keep or experience. She didn't want them, or their legacy, because they were a tragedy. The twisting of a child into a weapon, brutalized so she could learn to be strong. The redemption of that weapon, pulled off the wrong path by a charming friend, who seemed to be larger than life to her. The slow return of what her creators had wanted, as the world's pressures, and her own expectations of herself grew. Then, inevitably, the crusade. A journey to her, and a war to those she fought. An unquantifiable loss of life, and the seizing of an undeserved prize.
For Andarta, the conclusion lay in her future. For Jacquelyn, it remained in her past, a gem she'd been to slow to catch. She watched in somber silence while her friends, people seeking and worthy of normal lives, threw themselves against a bastion. She watched as they were crushed, burned and frozen. Filled with holes, riddled with bullets and reduced to giblets. She read this young girl's story from back to front, and came to one conclusion. She had no place in some cottage, sifting through books and sitting in an armchair. She had no future talking to peers, having frappes at a diner and dinners bathed in candlelight. She had nothing, and deserved nothing. She was trapped in this story, destined to relive and replay her journey over and over and over, because she simply wasn't a person who could find an ending. She simply wasn't a hero.
Elizabeth. The woman who lived in this world, who'd lost a mother and been the one to unite them all. The witch who'd known everything, and had to transform the most. She'd always been the weak one, the strange one, the one with a plan and a charisma that drew them together. Sayaka, Lamar, Ryder, Greed, all faces she remembered, despite what they'd become. Lost voices, unfinished stories. Their authors had let them go. Those who remained still had stories to tell, conclusions to find. Elizabeth was clearly meant to come to terms with herself. She was old, and harrowed, and wise in a way only quantifiable through metaphor. She was the drunk, clinging to her old life. This story was how she redeemed herself. How she let go of her past, and came to terms with it. How she talked with Terry and her mother, and finally put to rest those howling dogs. Elizabeth was a protagonist in a way Jacquelyn simply couldn't be.
She was petty, and greedy, and all powerful. She'd been removed from the equation for a reason. At first she'd assumed that it'd been to keep her from ruining the story but now, she knew better. It was because she was boring, and static. A girl whose only activity was to reject. She rejected her past, rejected her legacy, rejected her burdens and rejected Kyle's expectations. She'd been too afraid to open herself up, and been rejected in term. She might've said that it was unfair, if she hadn't thought of those judgements in the first place. What story was she built to told? She was an arrogant hothead, emotionally stunted and bereft of connections besides a psychopath who sought her now only for his own satisfaction. She was a macguffin, a one-note deus ex machina, a plot device used whenever the story wanted something to do without consequence or permanence.
Andarta was a tragic figure. A flawed and human girl whose past was cast with the same patterns that Jacquelyn's had. She'd been born into a bad situation and forced to conform. Her only rebellion, a friend who showed her the world outside of her captivity. She'd escaped and burned down her old world, and decided then that what she'd gone through should be forced upon nobody else. Jacquelyn had dismantled the labs, shattered Sterling's dreams. Andarta had reshaped The Crimsonites to seek out one goal, but that had never been her mission. All her real efforts, all her devotion and love, went to those she salvaged. She'd sought out those who were downtrodden and broken, having suffered great losses, and been left with nothing to yearn for. She'd brought them back from the brink, and imbued them with purpose. Although her methods had not been perfect, her intentions had only ever been to help them, just like Amalie had helped her.
Jack? All she'd done was make more weapons. Made more killers, just like the scientists had wanted. She'd found people living their lives in the slums and the sewers, and turned their discontent into deadly hatred. She'd warped children into tools with which to fight a personal war, so that she could finally let go of that vendetta she'd inherited. Where Claudia built people, Jackie had carved pawns. And look at where they were now! Andarta, sobbing in this pit, with a crisis of faith. Feeling such intense guilt for throwing her allies' lives away, for not being there to save them. What was the firebird doing? She was lying here, thinking. Philosophising, and coming to terms with what she had to do!
Yes.
She was... letting go. Reflecting, and fulfilling a few necessary trains of thought before she...
The world didn't need a girl.
It didn't need an inexperienced, insecure woman lying on a gurney. It needed a soldier to save it. For as much as she loathed her irreality, she couldn't help but feel something. Those moments with Kyle, those battles fought alongside Elizabeth. Her experiences, her comments, her time with these people, they all felt real. Tangible, and just out of reach. This fiction was real to her. She had, all this time, whether consciously or not, been thinking of these characters as real human beings. And despite knowing it was out of her hands, she still wanted to fight. To protect them, so they could do better next time. She clearly had no happy ending forthcoming. She'd been selfish, brutish and prideful. She'd wasted her chance, but... listening to the battle outside? She realised something quite profound. Elizabeth, Kyle, and everyone else; they had a chance. They could still earn their happy endings.
She was grieving.
She was mourning.
She was letting go of the girl, and bringing back the warrior.
Because frankly, the world had never needed her. It had only ever been holding out for Jacquelyn Vanth. Weapon and leader, best friend of Kyle Hearse and the savior of a planet.
Jacquelyn Vanth. The weapon.



The Crimsonites fired one volley into the milling throng, beams and bullets of all shapes, sizes, natures, compositions, temperatures, relative quantum frequencies and dimensional transceptor attunements went sailing over the open plain, breaking like egg shells against the coalition's shields. Their armies broke like water through a dam, surging forward to consume their enemy. At this distance their barrier remained relatively intact, allowing most if not all incoming blasts to be nullified. Soon, however, it became apparent that The Crimsonites were not going to wait there patiently to be overrun. A trench split the allied forces' ranks in two, a crevasse spitting magma and worms, demons and sulphurous golems clawing their way out of the broken earth. The air shimmered and split, countless limbs reaching out of the abyss to shred the fortunate few too far to pull in whole. The two sides sallied each other with volleys of their strongest ordnance, vaporising swathes of the town with single shots. Even then, their protection held out, keeping most in fighting condition.
Frankly, the Crimsonites' batteries were simply too large to overwhelm with brute force. They might've protected them from lethal contact, but they granted them no additional strength. AEGIS reavers and troops stormed burnt out shacks, filing up floors and bringing men down to the ground, binding them with runes and flowing metal. Eskir's vines shattered their weapons and held them to the floor, while fairies and wisps tugged at the water in their bodies, freezing them in place with a thousand intangible ropes. Mutants and lycanthropes took a more direct approach, grabbing their enemies by the heads and snapping their necks like twigs. The wards were, for all their quality, unable to compensate for such seemingly mundane movement. The charge was led by Lana, AEGIS and The Scourge. They threw themselves with tactical (sometimes wild) abandon at the enemy, knowing that their advantage in numbers could only last so long.
Vincent waded through hordes of ghouls and wraiths, inviting them to assault him. He slashed one apparition in half, clutching its ectoplasm with a hand and stuffing its soul into a locket upon his heart. It was a peculiar gem, swirling with crimson stains and giving off an aura of malicious intelligence. It was crudely adapted Aeonic technology, built to break apart souls and reconfigure them to act as a binding agent for less orthodox creations. Its dull glow turned to a brilliant shine, a beast stepping out of the red light. A swirling blob of screaming voices, sharpened into a ball of pristine sharps. They dragged their brethren in, the sphere ever expanding as more and more were pulled into its twisted, labyrinthine interior. Vince held out his hand and all that pent up fear, and distress, gathered in his palm. Sirens were not simply beautiful, they were moving. Creatures of emotion so pure, they could influence reality itself. He pressed the condensed agony into a set of talons and pierced the torso of another dead man's spirit, watching his face contorting as he was distilled into emotional fuel.
His plan was not merely to slice through these things forever, though. The clump dispersed around his fingers, and began to seep into those too near. They dropped their arms, paralyzed by terror, and pain. He glided between them, claiming their spirits with a flick of his wrist, and the practiced finesse of a dancer. He was not the only Crimsonite champion, though. The Raven swooped down like a hellish bomber, its claws ripping through scores of enemies while its body rippled and grew. For each creature of flesh it dismembered, its heart grew larger and its limbs grew stronger. With one swing it dismantled a house, along with half a dozen men who'd been inside. It threw its feathers like arrows, spearing Whisperwood's agents in the sky as easily as pigeons. It was a blurred mass that brought utter devastation wherever it went, tumbling through the alliance's forces and ruining any hope they had of piercing the cults' outer perimeter.
That wasn't to say The Crimsonites were pushovers, either. They were skilled magicians, with decades of fortification playing a massive role in tipping the scales of the conflict. Endless rows of golems marched from the alleyways, their clay bodies bursting into choking dust as they were mowed down en masse. The skies were dominated by Corps drones and mystic fliers, dispersing the attackers with intermittent explosions, and a constant barrage of bullets and other unpleasant hexes. Targeted landmines, arcane traps, all sorts of snares brought scores of men down. A soldier might take a step and find themselves ripped in two by hungry plants, or turned to cheese by an ancient curse. Casualties mounted on both sides quickly, while Lana tried to push through the centre. The streets soon devolved into a tangled mess, with gunmen firing into the crowd below, not quite knowing or caring whether they hit friend or foe. Those beneath cast shields above their heads and tried to push through based on momentum alone. The battle was not going well for either side. They were both waiting for their greatest assets to arrive, after all. The Brigadier watched this all occurring, while the reavers prepped their gear. It would be many long and lethal minutes before they could join the fray but when they did, it could only hope that they'd be able to seize the day.

Andarta stood, fist clenched around a lance of light, a sparkling bolt frozen in the air, shivering and undulating as it tried to push past her ward. Embers lapped at Jackie's wrist, her veins glowing with this almost ethereal, gentle yellow. She snapped her hand shut, pulling her weapon away. "How did you...?" she didn't finish her sentence. Dozens of appendages, following their own chaotic trajectories, spun out of the firebrand's back. It was all the reality bender could do to avoid them, forming a dome which she could feel those limbs drilling into, slowly sapping her strength. Jacquelyn burst into flames, a vast and blinding beacon taking up all the presence in the room. A wave of lacerations swept through the shroud, tearing apart the fire and flesh. A fist connected with the witch's head before a palm came around to grip her by the neck, twisting sharp to the side. That glow... it had been a distraction. This woman fought like a street magician. Her pattern was simple enough; mislead and strike.

Despite knowing that, it remained impossible as ever to avoid the barrage. Orbs that stayed perfectly in her blind spot, beams that hid behind other attacks and struck from behind, great frontal assaults that kept her on the back foot. Finally, she reached out and grabbed Jack with some lasso of space, and slung her into a wall, snatching back her arm and condensing the distance between them into mere inches. "Listen to me!" she spat. "I beat you before, I'll do it again!" the girl rolled her head to one side, staring up with this queer and curious look. "You're scared, Claudia." she allowed the firebrand to fall from her grip, raising her foot. Her shoe was met half way by a short punch, the resultant blast throwing both of them back, skidding on the ground as they reached opposite ends of the chamber. "I am terrified!" she proclaimed, beating her chest with her fist. "Who cares? As long as my allies are out there, fighting for me, I have a duty to them. An obligation!" she raised an arm, shaking as if she were lifting some massive weight. Pillars of rock grew around them and purple foliage rooted itself in the impenetrable floor, the sky crusting over with a view of some unfamiliar galaxy. "I have people I need to protect. What about you?!"

She snapped forward, delivering a slash that should've parted mountains. The girl didn't bother catching the blow, she simply ducked underneath it and directed a shot into Andarta's stomach. She was thrown upward by the shockwave, the ground turning to a curved blur as she flew into the sky. A single glowing comet followed from the surface of the planet, a wave of destruction spreading out from where she'd lifted off. She disregarded the bolt entirely. It was another distraction. Instead, Claudia decided to find a better arena to fight in. This dimension was built of her thoughts, with almost a dozen years of her care gone into its construction. Everything here was simply an extension of herself. A meteor glided in the way of the incoming projectile, bulging as it expanded to form a shield. The entire rock shattered in one cacophonous eruption, spewing lines of molten rock in every direction. Amongst it all, not a single glimpse of the girl could be found.

Where was the terrified, panicked woman seen just moments earlier? Andarta had flipped a switch. Finally, she'd been broken. Kyle had pushed her, and she'd refused to push back. Now, she was giving the retaliation everything she had. Every motion was as agonising as the last, and she still continued to fight. Was she confident in her abilities? Determined not to lose? Jackie simply didn't care. She had to overcome this obstacle, and that was it. This reality bender was another foe, another casual conquest on her way to that world which she'd spent so long building. Who cared if Sterling had seemed like the endgame? If the universe was determined to keep throwing obstacles in her way, so be it. It wasn't as if she could change that, after all.
One advantage she held was in both speed, and reaction time. She was naturally stronger than Andarta in nearly every way, having been built from the ground up to be a devastatingly competent combatant. Two decades of combat experience and ingrained instinct were coming back to her now, turning what had once been a thrillseeker's vision into an eagle's view of the world. The scent of blood and blindness attracted her gaze, and wherever her eyes were, flame was soon to follow. She appeared above the woman, having flown behind her head for all that time. The blast which had destroyed the meteor had been on a timer. When one obscured their own vision, it painted a picture of rather exploitable inadequacy. She drop kicked the woman toward the planet below, where a whole landscape of glowing spears arrayed themselves to impale the incoming missile. Everything was spinning, and blending into one. Just as the glow of the earth below her grew to a terrifying crescendo, Andarta remembered to save her own life. She accelerated through the crust, shattering the field of spikes and emerging on the other side of the celestial body, a hole cut through its middle.

She landed in a subway, throngs of people milling around her. A girl approached to help her up, grabbing the injured Andarta by the hand. She was covered in cuts and abrasions, doused in blood and sweat. Memories of battle were lost, and she remembered how it was supposed to go. How her life had meant to have been. "Amalie." she whispered. On the train, heading somewhere distant. They appeared there without warning, without hesitation. She was willing to go with whatever this was. It was so hard to think... "there's something I want to show you today, Claudie. I promise you, it's brilliant." she looked at her friend, dressed in that same tomboyish coat she'd been so fond of. Strange to think that even after all this time, she didn't know who Amalie even was, or where she'd come from. Like some guardian angel, descended from the heavens, she'd found her one night, and...
Night time. Fireworks, across the bay. "My parents aren't going to be happy", a young girl protested. Her eyes remained on the sparks above, nonetheless. "Don't you worry about them. You need a break every once in a while, right?" she tried to pull her arm away. Softer, this time. "They said to be back before midnight. They have a very important ritual today", she whispered. "Hey, if you're really that worried, we can do this another time." Amalie looked to her side toward the shorter child, each of them barely able to see over the fence. It was new years, and people were in the streets. There was a carnival a few blocks down, shining with lights. At home, there was a man waiting with a blade. They had a very important ritual. She had to go home before midnight. "I don't think we should do that." her friend seemed disappointed, although unfazed. "Next week, then. Same time, same place. I'll meet you at the train station, okay?" she nodded gently.
They'd met under the most extraordinarily mundane circumstances. Outside her mansion there was a small corner store, dispensing gum and milk. She'd often go down there at her parents' behest to purchase supplies while they held down the proverbial fort. It was difficult to fulfil the conditions of their worship when such trips were required, after all. Their child would sustain them while they continued their holy mission. They could chant, dance and bring sacrifices. They could bring about the crimson utopia they'd always dreamed of. Those words were of great importance. They were the instructions given to them by the Crimson Mother. They were wise, immutable and impossible to bend. They had to worship her, or suffer the consequences.
The world out there was dangerous. It was corrupt and unlike the fate that humanity deserved. The Crimsonites were a justice. A mercy, given to those who suffered because they couldn't conform to the cruel reality out there. Their blood letting practices, their prayers, their tributes - those were necessary payments. Without The Crimson Mother, men were lost. Without her, humans would fall to depravity. It was very important to always do as the Crimson Mother said. It was necessary to be strict, and cruel, and punishing, because that was the only way to learn. So every night, they let out the blood of their progeny and collected it in an urn, pressing hot needle tips into her arms. It was a deeper, more holy form of flagellation. Not brutish, but surgical. Perfect, like any Mother would want their child to be like. They were doing what was best for their child, after all. They were marking her with holy symbols! Surely, it was the duty of any parent to give to their child, rather than gain for themselves. So they burnt and cut her every day, until that pain was routine.
It was normal. Slowly, the tears melted away and gave way to stoic silence. She wished that Amalie wasn't there any more. She wished she could sink into The Crimsonites' contained dogma because for every glimpse of theo utside world she saw, the more she wanted to go there. She didn't want that corrupting temptation, that selfish desire. She didn't want to hurt Amalie somehow, or feel this wrong longing in her heart. The pain, and the longing, soon blended into one. Routine, daily, weekly, monthly, eternally. What was there to do other than surrender herself to the Mother of Blood?
She found herself walking down a metal corridor, toward another flagellation. Normal, routine. In her mind, she thought of strawberry sundaes and green mint tea. She thought of the waterfront where couples ran, and the sky where planes and birds flew. She thought of America, where opportunity and freedom ran abound. She thought of Germany, where there was plentiful beer and a unity unlike any other. She thought of Japan, where the working class prospered, and a future was granted to all. She thought of all those things as she stepped into that greyish chamber, and met the eyes of Amalie. She didn't react, didn't think. She was still lost in her imagination, unable to comprehend this vision.
A dream, surely. Her parents stood behind her, hands reassuringly clasped around each of her shoulders. They bore her down to the ground and flipped her over, staring up into familiar pupils. The only word that made it through the haze of shock was; "Claudia..." then that dull, meaningless background turned to a screaming, howling front. Blood spilled on her eyes, dribbled down her face. She saw this wide gash, that was in some place she didn't think it belonged. She saw this torrent of blood, bright red and warm, like a reunion's embrace. She heard words, of how flagellation was not merely a ritual. It was an act of suffering for the lamb, and an act of kindness for the priest. They explained calmly, clinically, why this was necessary. Why it was very important for their mission, and very important for Claudia. Their child, their lamb, their vessel.
"Do better!" the words were seen, but not heard. Her ears were filled with this deafening growl, and her eyes were almost overtaken by a stinging crimson. She tasted rust in her mouth, and felt slime in her nose. "Do better for me!" she reached up with one hand, a clammy paw clutching the cheek of the one, tiny glimmer of love she'd known. That love, shrieking words that she'd long forgotten. "Do better than me!"

Eyes, snapped open. Hand, wrapped around nothing. Drifting through an ocean of one's own creation, the remnants of a re-entry trail above the water, far far away. The sunlight hardly reached her, illuminating nothing of the depths. Her lungs, they were... hollow. Rotten, and bleak. Like blasted salt fields, crumbling and dry. Her mouth was filled with brine, her eyes were stinging like they'd been stuck in a hive of wasps. Her whole body was... on fire. Searing. Her thoughts were so slow, so dull she couldn't lift a finger. Couldn't raise a hand to save herself. Amalie's words... who had they been meant for? The child, or the coward? Was it a plea to be stronger, to be calmer, to be smarter so that she could prevent that from ever happening again? Or was it... had it been her begging, with her last breath, for Claudia to be just as kind? Just as happy, and independent? A better hero, or a better person. That was the question. It occurred to her that she'd failed in both regards, really. She was as pathetic, if not more so, than when Amalie had first found her. Alone, unhappy, isolated and blind. Serving a terrible deity, and its idea, either way. No longer was she explicitly serving the Crimson Mother, no. Now she was serving herself. This myth she'd built around herself so she could use it as a shield. A barrier against the reality that she was, in the end, still just a naive girl. One who did as she was told, and one who couldn't stand up for what was right.
Jacquelyn was a better fighter than Claudia. That was clear to see. Her strength, her instincts and her skill, were all too great. If she had been in Andarta's place, she could have done so much more. She could have used that power with such greater efficiency, such greater finesse. She could have changed things that The Crimsonite never thought possible. Elizabeth was a better person that her, too. She was charming and negotiable, personable and charismatic. She'd attracted real friends. Real love, and hope, and protection. Amalie had reached out to Claudia out of pity. How sad was that? And Vincent, The Raven, Terry, Albert; they were only here because of her strength. Only here, because she'd promised them something they'd been seeking all their lives. Perhaps that was why she hadn't achieved her goals yet. She sought a selfish idea of friendship above all else. She was too afraid to follow through with her plans, because she recognised that once she did, she would be back to square one. Unlikeable, morose and weak.
The waters pressed a little harder on her chest, the last bubbles escaping her mouth. Her stomach heaved, pulling in the ocean. It heaved out, finding no air. It spasmed beneath her chest, trying to keep her alive. Funny, how even her own body wouldn't let her die. She wished she could go out there right now, and admit to what she'd done. What she'd sacrificed, and what she'd really believed. Her followers were still being manipulated by the false promise of salvation. They still believed in The Crimson Mother, the very symbol which Andarta blamed for Amalie's death. That apathetic goddess, which she'd adopted and used to attract members to join her cult. For all that she'd hated about Kyle, she seemed to be the more pragmatic of the two. The colder one, the more ruthless one. Because where he told the truth, and laid his intentions bare, she lied.
Now, she lay. On the bottom of the sea floor, silt wrapping around her shoulders. Some shadow eclipsed the sun, some figure with greenish eyes, and an apathetic stare.

"Get up."
Voices.
"Who said you could do this?"
They were growing louder, not quieter. They came from the end of the tunnel, from the realm of the dead.
"Why do you think you can throw that all away?"
Pressure in three different ways. One literal, one metaphorical, one in between.
"Did you learn nothing?"
So many god damn questions. She opened her mouth to answer, but nothing remained inside her to speak.
"Are you throwing away what she did for you?"
She already had.
"Are you okay with how this is going to end?"
No, but what choice did she have?
"Wake up!"
That was easier said than done.
"Help them!"
Who?
"Help me!"
A tiny, frightened creature, hunched in a corner. Covered in blood, battered with sticks and burnt with irons. Kept in a cell, beaten and cut, forced to wear long sleeves and a mask wherever she went. Disfigured, ugly, and perfect in their torturers' eyes. Hurt not by love, but by blind devotion. This belief that serving and praising some distant, nebulous deity would somehow bring fortune to what really mattered. This stupid belief that by giving everything to the thing furthest from oneself, that the things most precious and near to their heart would be saved. A cultivated, stupid faith. A scam that nobody benefited from. Shivering, weeping and bleeding. Tears, rubbed into wounds. Surrounded by loved ones who cooed and fawned over the pain, over the fire, over the statuettes, and never their child. Their flesh and blood!
She remembered why she did it, now. Who she was fighting for, who she wanted to redeem. People, not just her friends, all over the world. Pressed into cults and institutions of cruelty, forced to give their everything to some glorious idol or leader, and given a tiny stipend for their efforts. A world built only to sustain slaves, every tier of humanity ultimately serving no higher power; only suffering, and laboring, because there was nothing else to do. She wanted a free world; not a utopia. One where gods, anomalies and ghosts were no more. One where the universe fundamentally created purpose, and happiness, not blindness and exploitation. She hated the unfair in all its forms, not just unique and paranormal.
Who did she want to be? Who showed her the light? That girl, that friend, had shown her an image of innocence that she believed to be the ultimate goal of men. A perfect existence with nowhere to go, either up or down. Only side to side, experiencing an eternal, infinite beauty until the end of time. She knew that Amalie couldn't have been perfect, but what she'd seen... that was an inspiration. She wanted to give every human in existence what she'd lost. True harmony, and peace.
"There's a difference, between you and me!" her hands wrapped around Jacquelyn's boot, holding the heel away from her chest. The water in her lungs turned to air, the oceans parted as she forced herself upward, whilst the firebrand tried to burn her to cinders. Her hands flaked away, while the corruption in her heart grew. Black lines crept up her cheek, and she continued anyway. Even if she couldn't win this fight, so what? Every moment she held off this flaming monster was a moment her allies had to escape. A moment that people who were better than her had to flee, and find new opportunities. Now that victory seemed to be such a distant possibility, she was finally able to see what was truly most important to her.
"You have no endgame. You have no goals, and nobody to return to!" the girl reached down with an open palm, releasing a violent, shredding torrent of light. Andarta's head was pressed into the earth, the vision of one eye remaining, and seeing only a quiet, unspoken fury. "The Raven, Vincent, The Brigadier... they all have people they need to return to!" the whole planet cracked beneath her, fissile lines spreading throughout its shifting mantle. "Who do you have, Jacquelyn? Who do you have, besides that psychopath out there?!"
Jacquelyn shrugged, and broke into glass. An illusion, produced by light. When had that been one of her abilities? A sheathe of metal, longer than a skyscraper was tall, wrapped around Andarta and began to twist in more and more complex ways. Cannons and batteries formed on its exterior, whilst inside, drones and people emerged from the walls; functional automata, generated by one woman's imagination. As long as she could think it, her heart could provide. All those weapons spewed forth a barrage on a planetary scale. It was almost unfair, how easy it was for her to generate such forces. It took hardly any effort at all to turn air into uranium, and water into antimatter. Here, in her fortress designed to keep whole dimensions under lock and key, she could let go without worry. Hundreds of yellow projectiles weaved around her shots, taking no chances and first wiping out her artillery. They dug into the ship like some malignant infection, ripping apart the machine crew.
"Who would you be, really, if you didn't have your light?" every appendage was severed, sliced into pieces by invisible boundaries. Pockets of space simply folded into nothing, compressed into infinitesimal singularities, until they became nothing. "You'd be some kid! A person with no home, no family. No tethers, or people to fight for. You'd be nothing!" her eyes finally found the girl, drifting in space with a bubble around her head. Prisms of glass spun toward her, white stars bursting into existence around them and filling the air with this almost mystical fractal of light, creating a surreal, ephemeral sparkle. Andarta swam through the growing mass of crystal, her eyes locked onto an orange blob; molten quartz. Jacquelyn could only move by melting whatever surrounded her. Claudia could move no matter where she was.
"I have a purpose! People that I need to protect, and a civilization I need to redeem. I don't care whether I live or die, whether I succeed or I fail; I only care that I tried! That I did what I thought was right! When have you acted out of anything except primordial desire? When have you ever fought for something greater than yourself?!" her voice boomed throughout the transparent world, never losing clarity or volume. She wasn't saying it for Jacquelyn's sake, though. She wanted to say all of it out loud, not to her enemy, but to herself.
Jack's voice surrounded her, immersed her in molten glass. She no longer attempted to use her glow, knowing the crystal would diffuse it. Instead, she traced trails throughout the environ, forming screens of opaque orange melt, and doing everything to obscure her enemy's vision. Yet, for just a second, she paused behind Andarta and spoke to her. "You poor thing. You so strongly believe what you've done to be wrong, that you have to go through life believing all this self-serving bullshit. That's a travesty, Claudia. I'm sorry that you have to think that." trails of solid light, left throughout her tunnels, tightened like rubber bands. They carved scores through the world and converged around one focal point: where Andarta stood. They gripped her like a vice and burned through her shields, moving too quickly for her to mount any meaningful defence. "Just give me your heart already. Even you think you're going to lose this fight." she reached out to grasp the blackened lump at the centre of her chest, sparkling needles puncturing her skin and sliding between her ribs, tugging at the seed of her power. "You have your world to redeem. I have my life to preserve." she ripped it wholly out of her chest, a stream of fetid effluent following. She pulled out the corruption with a hand wreathed in purity, the creature's many limbs sliding out from beneath Andarta's skin, and melting like putty in Jacquelyn's hand.
"Why should I care about your people?"



"He's not here yet." The Brigadier hunched over a monitor, its head swimming with thousands of images. The perspective of each soldier, slowly going dark. It saw a lot of red, it saw a lot of orange. It wasn't seeing much hope. "Alpha tango. Where is it." analysts stood behind it, each one knowing that whatever task they'd been given was made completely redundant by the mere existence of the esper. Everything they were seeing was what he wanted them to see. He was the mastermind of all of this and with each passing second, it became more and more apparent that he had a game besides simply winning this battle. If he'd thrown him and his drones into the brawl they would've already been through the perimeter. So now, only one thing needed to be answered. What was he doing now?
"No sightings, sir. Only speculation." a man stepped forward with a digital clipboard, watching as names were crossed out across the board. Corps defensive squads and Crimsonite subgroups, demolished in the fighting. At least they were putting a hurt on the enemy. AEGIS had decided to hang back, deploying their more esoteric weaponry against concentrated areas of fighting. Viral agents, psionic cannons, sonic pulsars, that sort of thing. They were constantly reconfiguring the conditions of the battlefield, regulating air density and composition to ensure their troops could stay up. It was only through the wardmasters' hard work that they hadn't been bombed into oblivion so far, and even then they were being pushed back by the second. Their line wasn't even retreating: the enemy was simply cutting through them, inch by inch.
"Find me the esper." Its tone was cold and demanding. A command that went above the demands of rank; it was an order addressed to them as people, not pawns. They all felt the weight of this conflict. No comments were off the table. "There's no point in seeking him out. We should be focusing on cutting back the thicket, and prioritising defensive departments. We should be discussing whether personnel should be assigned to healing or assault, not... pointlessly bickering about some fucking robot!" The Brigadier turned its head. A monumental movement that froze the previous speaker on the spot. "Kyle is not merely in control of robots. It is a repository of knowledge unlike any other archive in the world."
"The longer we wait, the more its capabilities grow. It can expand exponentially, using data drives and processors to augment its already monumental capacity for thought. Those bots out there, that wiped out The Corps, they were made in less than a day. Back on its home world it was limited by its body, and the technology of the time. Now, it has access to AEGIS' vaults. The most massive, and advanced library in existence, with schematics for billions of weapons and equations for millions of constants available, on display, waiting to be utilized. It won't be long before it connects too many dots, and becomes unstoppable."
It looked back toward the monitors, growling softly. "We're not fighting an army, we're fighting the esper's plan. Tell the reavers they have five minutes to get on the field. We can only hope that it hasn't managed a full consciousness upload to the web, or some other server yet. We're going to contain and destroy this thing. If we don't, we risk total global collapse no matter who prevails today. Find me and bring me his head." it gestured at its team, ending the line of thought.

Battlefield, littered with bodies. It didn't get any easier to watch, even after all this time. Christ, what kind of gestalt was it? If it could hardly bear to see a bunch of criminals and cultists perish, then what was it worth? It assumed that it wasn't mourning them, though. More like, worrying about the outcome of this conflict. From where it stood, nothing was known. There were too many chaotic, exceptional variables. Jacquelyn, Andarta, The Raven, Vincent, Kyle, Elizabeth, Alex, Madison... all crucial pivot points whose actions were determined by personality, rather than systemic logic. It could predict large systems but smaller ones, with nothing to discern? It was incapable of finding even the tiniest logical thread in those. Flip a coin, and it couldn't say which side it would land on.
Between the spirits and the ghouls, the battle in the air was going rather poorly. The Raven was tearing up the competition, repeatedly divebombing enemy lines and slicing through dozens at a time. That, however, had attracted unwanted attention. It was pelted constantly by a barrage of flak and other nasty little inventions, with the intention of weathering away its coat. Its regenerative abilities were impressive, yes, but it was rapidly running out of flesh to reconstitute. After all, barely half the fighters were made of anything edible. It watched as the bird swooped in to tear apart a walking mech, bionic parts spraying blue sparks while it tore out the pilot's heart, and engorged itself on the blood. There was hardly anything to consider when the avian was involved, really. It would kill, and kill, and kill, until someone stopped it.
Vincent? He was doing far more to keep the battle alive. He was a defender, not a fighter. His crusade through enemy lines was just about the only part of the battle which was progressing in the Crimsonites' favor. He was tearing apart anything that came too close, dispatching swathes of soldiers with this almost casual sweeping motion. He was untouchable, and seemingly invulnerable. His summons, his emotional outbursts, his ability to tell someone to "stop", and make them actually do what he said... they were valuable boons. Excellent for crowd control, and targeting major opponents. The Brigadier concluded that it could rely on him to hold the line, as long as the rest of the troops could keep him from being overwhelmed.
Andarta, as always, was an enigma. She'd fled earlier, her reasons for doing so unclear. It couldn't really think of any motivation besides cowardice, which was clearly not the root cause. Their leader was no pushover. Despite all the pressure mounted on her, there was practically nothing new in this battle. It wondered for a while where Diana was. Had the merc finally run off? Ah, no matter. If loyalty could be bought, then victories could be purchased too. They only had to stay afloat, and give their techs time to arrange an escape.

Their enemies must've been well aware of this, too. As tempting as it was to take this opportunity to wipe out the opposition, it was clear that this was not a war they could win. Now that all these factions knew where they were, it would only be a matter of time before a larger force arrived. The Brigadier knew that General Johann had been fairly active during this time period. If push came to shove, it was not confident that it could defeat the hardliner on an open field. Their data banks were being fried wherever possible, and preserved wherever necessary. Discs containing pertinent information were being loaded into trolleys, and brought out front. The whole compound was in utter chaos, leaving only the people in this room to maintain their situation.
Strangely, Ashwood and the others hadn't arrived yet. The wildcards, the most dangerous individuals of all - simply for their ability to challenge the Crimsonites' best - were still absent. The Brigadier suddenly became very aware of how avoidable this battle would've been, had it deployed more competent troops to assist in their original kill mission. It had foolishly assumed that it hadn't needed to put the reavers at risk. Oh, how greatly it had underestimated the Ashwood coalition's forces. Back then, it had only ever seen them killing a few dozen thugs at a time. Since then, they'd proven themselves to possess unimaginable assets, and comically over the top abilities. Without AEGIS, one reaver could dismantle an entire nation in less than a week. Ashwood's people could probably destroy the entirety of NATO, given a day or two.
Great. Now it was quantifying its opponents in how easily they could plunge millions into anarchy.
The Brigadier swept all these thoughts aside and concentrated on what was important; the melee creeping toward the central building's walls. Their enemies had shown their hands for the most part. It finalised a few algorithms and calculations, finally adapting the last of its subordinate machines' systems. It left them vulnerable to none of the enemies' weapons or tactics, having programmed them in the last few minutes to be the perfect force with which to rout the charge. Time to deploy the bots, then.

Around the town manholes and portals snapped open, androids crawling from the pits and taking in the world around them. They marched in single file, forming perfect squares measuring ten by a side. The coalition, confused by the development, poured fire into the sudden arrivals. They didn't react, and made no attempt to retaliate. They merely stood there, and watched; identifying targets, measuring distances and creating a schematic for success. They simulated the course of the conflict a million times over, changing the outcome a little bit each time by modifying the behavior of a droid. Then, when victory was nigh assured, they all turned toward their enemies, and took one step forward. Their wrists turned to scrambled jargon, clarifying into beam weapons and magical sigils. They were copying their enemies' capabilities, and learning to counter their tactics to an individual basis. They had independent files for each combatant containing data on how to avoid their attacks, and how to counter each blow. The nine centuries marched forward, breaking into a confusing rush of metal parts and freshly dispatched cadavers. Just like that the tide of battle turned, an adaptive army built over many decades completely overwhelming the coalition.

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Demincia
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Posts: 2326
Founded: Jul 08, 2010
Democratic Socialists

Eat your heart out, Jack London

Postby Demincia » Fri May 10, 2019 12:43 pm

It was....well, insane.
Madi had no idea what was going on, or who was winning, but she knew one thing was certain: No one had noticed her yet. Of course, she hadn't moved from atop the hill, and therefore she could see most of the massive battle that was taking place.
"What shall we do, skin-changer? I yearn to be in battle!"
"I know, Shacca, I'm just weighing my options here."

Madi then felt a massive spike of magical energy and she looked around, trying to pinpoint its source; she found it was strongest near a robed man that was murdering ghosts.
"....Oh great, A necromancer....This should be fun."
The Witch slowly got up from her crouching position, got rid of the pins and needles in her legs, then started to make her way down the hill, summoning her magic and put up a magical shield, in case someone tried to attack her.

She eventually reached the source of the magical energy and got as close as she dared to the man, then summoned her magic even more, as if to show off her power.
"VINCENT! I CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL. DO YOU ACCEPT?"

She then Thought-Spoke to Shacca
If anything goes wrong, help me however you can.
Of course.
Thanks

Madi then shifted her attention back to Vincent and merely waited....

Vince turned his head like a puppet on strings, regarding the girl with about as much concern as a doctor diagnosing a hypochondriac.
"No."
He pulled out a 9mm and shot at her chest, rolling his eyes and decapitating a trio of ghosts.

Just before the bullet hit, Madi ducked, and the bullet sped off into the distance with her unharmed. She then got back up and took a step forwards.
"You know, I tried asking you the peaceful way. Since you're not gonna listen and keep killing innocent spirits, i guess I need to stop you."
The Witch raised her arms towards Vincent and started firing magic bolts towards him.

Vincent let out a single, momentous chuckle. Without thinking, Madison's arm swung to the side, pulling the bolts with it. He laughed, and with each exhalation she felt some invisible force puppeting her movements. Well, perhaps force was the wrong way to describe it. More like... suddenly, it seemed a lot easier to simply move her body one way. Like gravity had decided to change direction, and made her move in a way she hadn't intended to. It was not impossible to resist, however. With some effort, and much tribulation, she wrested her wand back into position, pointing down range at this siren. He smiled, and her knees suddenly felt very, very weak. "Nobody's innocent here. If memory serves, you killed two dozen men just like that." he snapped his fingers, letting a pinch of red powder escape. His amulet bled smoke, gathering around his fingertips.
"Just stay down, okay? You're wildly outta your league here, little girl." he channeled the souls of all the spirits he'd consumed, their agony becoming Madi's. She fell down, kneeling on the ground and retching whilst screams reverberated throughout her skull. Guilt, and painful memories. Hateful stares and ostracizing looks. Awkward moments, actions that had hurt herself and others. "Hopefully, you learn a lesson today. If not, well... hope Hell suits ya."

This guy was powerful. Scarily powerful. But Madi eventually figured out that she could block the pain in her head somewhat, got up from her kneeling position, and fired a golden bolt of magic towards Vincent.
"You no idea what I've been though Vincent. You know nothing of what I've had to live through."

"Oh, I was counting on you having done some pretty terrible things, Goodwill. Ha. Your name is irony incarnate." a spear wielding devil came charging at him, and he whispered out the corner of his mouth, "die". The spearman turned the blade upon himself, plunging it into his heart without a moment for recourse. He looked down at the self-inflicted wound, blinking in disbelief before keeling over. "You think you're so noble. You think that you fight for peace, and the survival of your world." he beckoned a dozen ghouls to attend to him, their eyes glassing over as they took humanoid form; grotesque, dusty statues. They moaned and advanced, while Vincent stood back.
"Fighting for something you can't touch or see... that's vanity."

Madi desummoned her magic and merely stood there.
......Self doubt.
Vincent had finally gotten to her.
The man before her had done what some many others had tried to do,

But she wasn't going to give up yet. She wasn't going to just walk away, or surrender, or give up.
Madi looked up at the sky for a moment, then lowered her gaze to Vincent, and then summoned her magic again.
The twin flames roared to life and shot up six feet into the air, a golden ray of light, and the Witch drew her arms back a bit.
"Die."
Then fired the golden flames towards the man before her.

Vincent ducked to the side, contorting his body like some street performer. Madison's attack sailed past his chest, bursting into flames a few feet away. "Deja vu. I swear somebody already said that." he sent his attending minions, mind-controlled ghouls, to attack her. Around them the battle turned to a pitched frenzy as more and more reinforcements arrived. As it continued, its combatants grew more desperate. They built barricades, summoned monsters, deployed weapons of untold magnitude. Sooner or later, something was going to give. Whether that was one side or the other, or reality itself, was still being discovered.

Madi ignored the fighting around her and blasted the mind controlled ghouls and ghosts to pieces. What was unnerving was the fact that they all seemed to thank her as she killed them.
Though thanking her for what, she had no idea.
"Stop using minions to fight. Duel me by yourself, or give up."

"Fine. I'll deal with you now." Vincent clicked his finger and all around him, the battle parted. Those too close to them were convinced to leave them alone, and find other targets. It was a subtle effect; far easier than simply compelling action. He doubted that he'd have further opportunities to explicitly affect Madi. No, once someone first felt his compulsions, they began to develop resistance. Sirens' manipulations were rather like drugs in that way.
"Honestly, I thought you'd go after somebody else. I'm glad you're here, though. It saves me the trouble of sweeping you up later." he charged right at her, weaving slightly to the side and falling on his knees, holding the sword above his head and aiming for her ankles; finishing his glide by vaulting to his feet, and turning to face the girl again.

Madi blocked the attack with a magical shield and then summoned the double bladed axe, Gladius.
"Yeah, I figured I'd fight someone like myself, see how good I was at dueling one of you guys. I haven't died yet so I must be doing something right for once. That mind manipulation is interesting, though."

She twirled the axe around in her right hand, flames now engulfing the weapon, yet it seemed to be fine. In fact, the flames seemed to be empowering the axe somehow.
Madi brought up the axe before her and pointed it towards Vincent.
"I want to see what you can really do."

"I just... I just showed you."
He paced toward her, measuring his steps. "You know, this is actually my pride taking over." he lunged, delivering a powerful feint, the blade stopping short and snapping back just before it hit its target. "I'd usually ask someone else to kill you, but this... I feel almost responsible for holding you down. Because make no mistake, I'm not trying to kill you. Only keep you busy until we can all get out of here." he threw his weapon like a boomerang, spinning like a frisbee in one wide arc. "You hurt The Raven. You killed half The Corps. I'm not letting you die a merciful death."

Madi watched as the weapon came flying towards her, showing next to no reaction when it stopped just short of killing her and it being returned back to Vincent.
"I've seen all of this before."

She blocked the weapon and sent it back to Vincent via a spell and started to walk forwards.
"You say I killed half the Corps? How many people have you killed? Honestly, I think we're both trying to live each day as best as we can. I didn't choose to come here, to help, but I did, and now I'm here, fighting you, not even exactly sure what's going on. But i guess I'll fight you until one of us dies or gives up. Which is fine."

She had reached about five feet from Vincent now and desummoned her axe and her magic.
"...Actually...You say you're not going to kill me, but yet you're not going to let me die a merciful death? Are you going to kill me or not? Really. Think about it, just for one second. I've lost pretty much everything, I don't have a lot to live for right now. if you really do want to kill me, go ahead."

Shacca started to scream at her.
"No, Shacca, I'm, done. I'm done fighting. Death would be a relief at this point."

"So, you've given up."
He stepped up to her and slowly sank his blade into her chest, up through the ribs and into the heart.
"If you really want to know... the number's twenty two. And I feel those deaths, unlike you. You're desensitized to loss, and life. I guess it was inevitable that you'd start thinking of your own life that way, too."
He let her down slowly, pulling his weapon out and leaving a gaping wound in Madison's chest.
"That was surprisingly easy. Thank you."

As the darkness caused everything to fade away, her last thought was
Thank you
-
She was floating. On water. There was a clear sky above her, the moon was shining down on the water around her.
Then she heard a voice.
"Wow, you just had to fuck everything up, didn't you?"
She knew that voice.
Knew it very well.

Dark Madi appeared above her, lying on her side.
"So, what? You just...Gave up? That's not like you at all."
".....Am I dead?"
"...Are you....What does it look like?"
Madi simply stared up at her dark self.
"....So I'm not dead?"
Dark Madi got out of the lying down position and suddenly Madi was as well. They were both standing on the water.
"No."

Dark Madi threw her hands up in the air.
"You are not dead yet, and don't even think about trying to kill yourself here, because you can;t. And no, i am not killing you either. I'm trying to talk sense into you."
"...That won't work. It's over for me. You know that, I know that, now can you let me just die already?"
"No. I don't know what happened to you, but there's still hope. Look, you haven't felt anyone die, have you?"
"....What?"
"You know what I said. Have you felt anyone die?"

"...Felt anyone....What does that even mean?"
"If anyone in the family was killed, you would have felt them die. Have you felt them die?"
"....No...."
"Then they're all still alive. Of course, 'we' aka you don't know what state they're in, but they are alive. So you haven't lost everything just yet."
They're alive? They're all still alive?
Madi walked across the surface of the water, then looked up at the massive castle above her.
"You know, you can still save everyone. But it'll be awhile before you can. You need allies, powerful ones, provided you don't die before then."
Madi turned to face her dark self.
"...I fucked up again didn't I?"
her dark self crossed her arms.
"Yeah. You did. Congratulations. Having second thoughts about dying now?"
Madi nodded, uncertainty and fear on her face for once.
"...So now what?"
"We wait for somebody to find you and attempt to save your life. However long that is, I have no idea. But until then, we wait."



Jacquelyn looked up to the sky, a dead woman beneath her. She was gasping her last breaths, each jerking motion squeezing more brackish film from her chest. There was a gaping wound there, lined with fetid pus and necrotic flesh. Her blood was not a human red but an industrial tar, stretching and squelching like mucus. Her feet lit up and she ascended into the dark, leaving Andarta behind. This dimension was not truly infinite. It was a bubble, created by one woman's limited imagination. Without her to sustain its reality, it had finally become a finite medium. She shattered the sky like a ceramic bowl, hands pressing against hard granite. They were still inside that chamber where her flesh had been harvested. Behind her, Claudia's personal universe imploded; a futile attempt to restrain her opponent.
In the end, it'd been easy. Almost comically so, considering how clearly the witch had outclassed her other self. She was back to being that unrelenting force of nature that'd swept through the Americas, and uprooted an establishment centuries in the making. She was the child who'd never known anything but conflict, and had the will to overcome an entire world's enmity. A walking legend, a breathing gun, hammer pulled back. She gripped the stone and her hand sank into its surface, phasing through and spitting molten rock all about herself. She pushed her body through, runes moving along the walls to coalesce around her palm, trying to keep her from breaking out. Andarta lay in a puddle of blood, gasping. Each breath pulled her a little closer to death, a little closer to the end.

She took in one mouthful of air. Her arteries bubbled and squirmed, squeezing a little more oily plaque from their walls. Her bloodshot, half-blind eyes focused on the missing chunk of her body, cauterised vessels slowly opening up. A foul miasma haunted her body, a lingering corruption remaining about her. The universe spasmed, tiny imperfections spreading between galaxies and dimensions as they purged themselves of her.
A long time ago, in a castle of stone and timber, stood a girl. She was healthy and strong, with many servants. But her assistants and lieutenants were quite ignoble, and they did things that the girl couldn't abide. So she ordered them into exile, leaving her kingdom bereft of authority. Despite this she still tried to rule over it, believing herself adequate. Soon though, she lost the love of her people, who had loved those she'd sent away, despite all their sins. For she, despite her confidence, lacked the skills to administer her nation. Thus she set out into the woods, leaving the safety of her castle in order to gain the wisdom and strength necessary to rule.
In the jungle a woman fell from the trees with a dagger and tried to kill her. They fought for a time but the woman was sick, and pale. The girl overcame her at last and threw her upon the earth. It was obvious that the woman had planned to kill her, and so, might come after her again. She thought for a while that the only solution was to kill the woman, for if she came after the girl again, she might never be able to return to her kingdom again. However, rather than dashing the woman's head against the rocks she took her to what seemed to be her home, filled with empathy for the malnourished mercenary. She learned that the woman was a hunter trying to pay off her debts, paid by one of her old lieutenants to kill the girl so he could reclaim her kingdom. She put her empathy above her safety and nursed the woman back to health, reaching into her purse to pay off the woman's debts.

There, in the forest, she happened upon a peculiar seed. A beating heart, with thorned edges and tough green hide. She observed that dragons flew about it and faeries flocked around it. Knowing that it was the heart of the forest, she drew blood upon its thorns, giving her own vitality to the endless cycle of life. She gained the instinct of a predator, and knew that her stay there was done
In the desert she came upon a town of traders selling exotic goods such as spices and rugs. However, what caught her attention was a group of young men standing around a large wagon, with a tarp draped over its contents. She pulled it away to reveal a horrifying creature, with too many eyes and limbs. Like a bird and a snake combined, inverted and stretched over the body of a horse. Although, it had a thick cape of feathers and fur; soft, and velvety. She once again reached into her purse, containing all the bounty of her kingdom, and paid for the creature, thinking she could use it to furnish her peoples' houses with rugs and tapestries, believing that if they were comfortable, they would love her. However, in the night, she heard a commotion coming from the cage. She heard the creature speaking in its sleep, dreaming of a faraway place. She realized it had a prince and a people, like her. So, not thinking for even a moment, she cut the lock and set it free.

Later, in a cave carved out of dune cliffs, she discovered a burning core as hot as magma and as bright as the sun. Dead spirits bounced about within, shrieking their somber dirges. She burnt her palm upon the fire, sacrificing flesh for fury. Thus, her sleeve was set alight, and she gained the passion of fire.

Later, in a foreign city far to the north, she came to a resting place and settled for the night. From her window, however, she saw a man sitting in the gutter with his head resting on his knees. She walked outside, thinking it might be one of her old lieutenants. She waved at him, and asked him what he was doing there, but no response was given. As she came closer she realized the man was fast asleep. She woke him up and asked him why he was asleep on the road, where horses laid their waste and men spat on the sidewalk. He told her a story of another country which he had once ruled alongside his friend, a beautiful and wise woman. However, drought struck their farms, and their fields went fallow. Her people starved and so, they withered away. He said that she stayed behind to share her peoples' fate whilst he had departed. No doubt, his friend was dead by then. Overtaken with pity, she gave the man more of her riches, and gave him a room in the tavern.

Before she departed, she went on an expedition into the mountains, where green light emerged every night. There, nestled amongst snow drifts and blue rock, she came upon a heart. An icy thing, which pumped crystalline water through all the earth. She clasped it with one hand and felt it leaching away her warmth, taking the heat from her heart. Thus she became cold, and tough as ice.

Later in her travels she discovered a bard singing in the street, performing with a broken lyre. His voice was clear but his instrument broke up his act, meaning nobody gave him any money. She saw him many times in that town, performing on different street corners with no audience to listen. He strummed rhythms and sang songs of home, a bitter place with a harsh king. Through his performances he gave more and more of himself away, in the hope that someone would give something back. But, the more of his heart and his history he revealed, the less anyone wanted to associate with him, for they saw his tales as dirty and his past as vulgar. The girl, however, poured the last of her money into his hat, and bought him a new lyre. He thanked her profusely and asked her to stay with him and see his next performance, saying that he had to repay her somehow. However, the girl asked him only to succeed, and bid him a quiet farewell.

Finally, she found a deep ravine that stretched from one end of the world to the other, with no bridges or fords to be found. She descended into the pit, which stunk of oil and slime, and which was filled with millions of twisted, curious creatures. At the bottom she found a capricious god, whose limbs were what animated the entire crevasse, keeping its kingdom alive. Its armies were vast and its appetites more so. Thus, the girl fed her fingers to the creature to send it into a deep slumber, for her blood was rich and her flesh richer still. Thus, her bones were added to the abyss.
Eventually, the girl went home, having attuned herself to the four realms in which all of creation was contained. She was one with nature, fire, stone and dark. Yet day after day, with no money to pay for their food and no faith with which to keep them loyal, her people continued to grow in their resentment, until it turned to a ferocious crescendo. Outside her castle, they beat at her gates and demanded she come down. But she could not reveal herself, for the act of ruling had taken its toll. She had the strength and wisdom of all reality, but not its permanence. She'd given up her vitality, her skin, her blood and her bones. She wept in her chambers, for she knew she was destined to become one of those she'd given her riches to on her journey.
But then the sound of a distant choir came rolling over the hills, and the bard consequently followed, clutching his lyre under one arm. He sang to the peoples and soothed their pains. The fallen prince came soon thereafter and sat himself down in front of her gate, solving quarrels and settling disputes. The creature arrived too, along with the heads of the bandits and enemies who plagued the kingdom in the girl's absence. The hunter followed too, with bounties of hunted, cured meats. Thus the people were given comfort, leadership, safety and food, whilst the girl stayed up in her castle and watched her new commanders solving the issues she had created.
She never opened her gates again, for everything without her fortress seemed to be under control. Those she'd helped seemed to revel in their work, doing good things for this girl who they hardly ever spoke to from the moment they arrived, always staying cooped up in her chambers and never leaving to speak to her people, or address them. And thus, her people didn't regain their love or trust for her. They merely forgot their troubles, and attached themselves to each of her secretaries.
She no longer wept. She no longer did anything. She simply stayed up in her high perch, wasting away while the strength of four universes flowed through her body, and extracted their price for a service gone unused.

She had many debts to pay. To each of her friends and colleagues, for all that they'd done. To reality, from which she'd taken so much for her own use. To her followers, whom she'd given nothing, and expected perfect service from. She had many problems to solve, many regrets to correct. She'd already agreed to sell her life for what she believed in. She couldn't die here. Not without fulfilling her promise to the world. She reached into her chest and tore out the last sick parts of her body. The charred remains of blood vessels, and the decayed organs she'd once depended on so much; they were worthless to her now. They splattered against the ground, filling the water with inky trails. Her power didn't come from the disease, or anything physically inside her. She was a conduit through which everything flowed. She was connected to every system in existence, both physical and otherwise. She felt every joule of energy expended by the universe, every iota of life force that nature cycled through itself. That was how she'd become a master of reality. She'd turned herself into a part of the circuit.
The disease was her burning out. Like a fuse, or a fatigued wire. Her body simply couldn't manage the constant stream that went through her heart, overloading her with energy and pain. She felt nothing - no heat and no sensation - because she felt everything all at once, eternally and instantaneously. All she needed to do was keep the cable from snapping. She took a deep breath, and examined how it moved through her body; where it stopped, and where it leaked. Silt rose from the seafloor and gathered in her abdominal cavity, forming a tiny spherical blob. Little bits of sand and mud stretched out, wrapping around severed terminals and blood vessels. Her artificial heart took its first beat, and she took her first unlabored breath in almost twenty years.
Claudia stood up, the core of her body constructed out of gravel and wet clay. Her flesh shivered, and once again, reality extracted its deserved toll. All at once, a black mass exploded over her body, leaping from her lungs and invading her limbs. It metastasized all over her, turning flesh to black molasses. She looked down at her arm, a glistening claw covered in pulsating mass. She touched her cheek, where little tendrils poked at the corner of her eye.
Her gaze fell upon Jacquelyn, regarding a hole in the wall.



As Madison lay dying on the ground as a pool of her life essence spilled upon the battle scared ground her current state was not ignored by some of the combatants. The cabalists and gardners, both having their own means of healing Madi were too preoccupied with the never ending enemy assault to aid her. The wraiths were too busy trying to avoid being captured by Vincent or destroyed by Vincent. Instead it was a ghoul wearing frayed and tattered robes holding a rusty staff that approached Madi's nearly lifeless body. Others followed him.

The ghoul saw her her drawing her final breathes, her eyes turning glasses and skin paling as the warmth began to ebb away. The ghoul uttered a small pray in a language that those in Whisperwood would say is a horrid bastardization of the fae language. The robed ghoul took out a dagger and cut it's own wrist. It knelt down and open Madi's mouth, making her drink the drops of Ghoulish blood that landed in her mouth.

The ghoul would recite an incantation in the same language. The other ghouls rose their staffs and arms up as they seem to form a circle as they prayed to their Charnel God to bring the young mage back to the world as one of their own. One ghoul sorcerer was walking around with a incense lantern, swinging it to bring out the smoke. Other used various instruments made from pieces of junks and bones to make loud noises to go along with the chants and gestures being performed.
The lead ghoul would soon take his hand away as his wound began to heal. From his pouch he would take out a piece of jerky. This piece of jerky is actually the rotten piece of a dead human being. One of the rations the ghouls had after being forced out of their homes and one of the food items they brought with them encase the battle took hours to complete or even longer, none ever thought that this simple piece of food would be used for an important ritual like this.

The ghoul knew that right now Madi would have enough energy to eat it but if she doesn't do it now she would most likely die. He brought the jerky close to Madi's mouth. "Eat this child. If you do so you will be spared from death's cold embrace. You will return to this world to start to a new beginning." he told her as he brought the piece of meat closer to her lips. The other ghouls kept chanting and performing the ritual as a few others used their magic to cast wards to protect the mages as the ritual they were performing made them vulnerable.

"...So....It has been a while."
Her dark self nodded.
"Yeah. It has. Wait."
Madi felt as if she was floating for a second, flying, but then it felt as if she had been slammed into the ground.
"....What was that?!"
Her dark self looked up at the sky, now dark with oncoming storms.
"....Well. You died. But it seems as if somebody brought you back. Question is, who, and why?"

Madi was suddenly out of the mind scape, back in the real world, but yet, she was looking down at herself. Someone was telling her to eat something, some kind of meat. For some reason, the Sword of Gryffindor and the Hogwarts Shield were lying in the blood puddle that surrounded her body; the two objects were gleaming, pulsing very slowly. Some other form of magic was at work here, but what sort, Madi didn't know.
I don't want to die anymore. I want to live. I want to live.
Her body instinctively swallowed the meat and Madi was back in the mind scape.

"....I think everything's going to be okay now."
Her dark self shook her head.
"I don't think so."
Madi started to feel heavy, and tired-so tired-, she didn't even think twice about lying down on the Black Lakes' bank and fell asleep.

The last thing she heard before darkness claimed her was her dark self yelling something:
"No! They're turning you into a-"
Into a what?

The lead ghoul backed away as Madi ate the jerky, this process require space for the newly made ghoul. As the ghouls kept chanting Madi's body began to convulse and thrash uncontrollably, foam leaving her mouth as her eyes rolled to her back. Her pale skin began to take on a grayish hue and become leathery and taunt. Bones cracking and arranging themselves would be heard as her arms and legs slowly grew.

Her finger began to grew longer and more spindly, the fingers being so thin that they were nothing more but skin on bones. Her nails grew into claws. Her ears began to elongate and her nose resemble those of a bats to an extent. Her mouth and nose began to slowly push upward, eventually it would resemble the muzzle of a canine. The legs on Madi began to twist backwards as her feet change to resemble hooves.

Her body began to take on a more emaciated build, should she stand she would find that she also hunched over. Her eye color took on a sickly yellow hue now. The clothing now did not fit Madi as much as she grew in size and the old clothing look to small on her. Worse still they now look loose and baggy due to her much thinner body. Yet despite the drastic and some saw nightmarish transformation the ghouls call what they did a resounding success.

They performed the final parts of the ritual and just as they end Madi would begin to wake up about now. Throughout the battle some of the cults saw what happened and were either apathetic to what just occurred or were shock that the ghouls decided to change someone during a battle. Alex who was now floating in the air saw what occurred. The wraith was torn on whether to be glad Madi was still alive or to give the ghouls a piece of her mind.

But the screams of fellow wraiths brought her attention back to the Raven who was a major threat for the coalition. Alex channeled the elemental energies to bend gravity to force the Raven down to the ground.

Bright blurred lights. Far away noises that hurt for some reason.
"Skin-changer."
A voice. A familiar voice, but yet it sounded horrified. Why?
I'm......Alive......?
Irregular breathing. Her body felt....wrong.
And....Blood. It was everywhere. She could smell the copper scene, feel it beneath her, on her-...She had died, right?

Madi moved a bit, causing ripples in the blood puddle that surrounded her, then opened her eyes. Her vision was off, the color a bit muted, but she could see things she couldn't normally see. A loud noise-off to her right-it hurt. A lot.
A small creature was standing in front of her, looking up at her with those slitted green pupiled eyes of his.
"....Shac.....Ca.....?"
Her voice was wrong. More beastlike than human.
The dragon-lizard paced back and forth before her, confusion and some many other emotions coming from him in waves.
"What has happened to you? You are not human, your birth-self."
Madi's gaze had centered on something in front of her-her left arm. it was gray, stretched to the bone in places, and her fingernails were sharp claws; and her entire arm looked....wrong
She heard something whine with utter confusion and eventually realized that it had been her.
After a while, madi slowly sat up and looked down, then mutely climbed to her full height and stared at her reflection in the blood puddle-shouldn't it have seeped into the ground by now?
her eyes were now a bright yellow with a black slitted pupil in each eye, her face was a cross between a dog and bat, her clothes were both too tight and too loose, she was hunched over, her legs were bent backwards and her feet were now hooves. She still wore the Time-Stone crystal around her neck on its silver chain.
"What......What happened to me?!
She lifted her new arms in front of her, then started shaking violently, her mouth slightly open as her mind tried to come up with some explanation, why she was like this, but she came up with nothing.
A noise-behind her.
Madi whirled around, sending blood everywhere, to find herself looking....A creature that looked like she was now, but old and clearly male....? She had to look up at him as he was taller than her.
"Did....Did you do this? Why?"

The old ghoul sighed as he saw the reaction Madi was having. "It's always like that with every new ghoul." he said before Madi turned to face him, asking if he did this and why. "Yes. We asked for Mordiggian to spare your life and the Charnel God heard our pleas and not only brought you back to life but also blessed you with your current form. We could not allow an ally to die fighting for our right to exist and for us to gain back our home." the old ghoul told her. He left out the part where they needed new ghouls to repopulate their names but right now that was best left out of the conversation.

"You are now what the humans call us a ghoul. You are given both great blessings and curses by our Charnel God." he looked at the battle. "A shame I can't give you the full explanation of what patron god has given you."

"...Curses? Of what sort?"
The initial shock had worn off by now, and the transformed Witch started to examine herself a bit. For one thing, she was so skinny that she could see her ribs, everything felt....wrong, but yet that feeling was quickly fading. it didn't bother her so much that her face was a cross of a dog and bat, but yet the most pressing thing was that she was starving.
In fact it was hard to think of anything else other than that she needed to eat. but yet she didn't know what she wanted to eat. it was strange really.
"....You don't have anything that I can eat, do you?

The ghoul fought back the grimace as he knew what was coming once she had her first true taste of ghoul cuisine. He would take out more strips of jerky and give them to Madi. "I know these aren't much but this should help you for now." he told her. The ghoul and the others awaited to see how Madi would react to the food.

Out on the battlefield Elizabeth had several Crimsonites being held in the air by shadowy tendrils. The witch flung them in the air as she ran to the nearest building and hid behind just as streams of bullets hit the ground that she was running on. The witch stayed hiding until the deafening boom of a gauss rifle was heard and the machine gunmen ceased firing his weapon. The witch peaked out and once she saw that most people were focused on other soldiers began to run to the next building for cover.

Madi reached out and took the jerky from the older creature and sampled a piece.
it wasn't exactly fresh, more like whatever the meat had belonged to, it had been dead for a while. The dried meat had a smoky flavor to it, it was somehow still bloody, like how fresh undried cuts of meat were.
The creature finished off the strips of jerky and looked up towards the older one.
"It was....a bit off.."
She picked out a piece of meat from her teeth with a claw and looked somewhat impressed at what she had just done.
"At least it's easier to do that now."

The old ghoul gave a short chuckle. "Well your new teeth makes eating meat much easier now. Considering you had no hang ups over eating that jerky we don't have to worry about you being a former vegan. Trying to get them to change from their diet is always a painful thing for both parties." the old ghoul told Madi.

The other ghouls looked at each other, all wondering when the truth should be revealed and who should tell her the truth of what she ate and what her existence means. "Tell me young lady. What do you know about ghouls?" the old ghoul asked.

Madi rolled her eyes and grinned.
"Vegan? Hell no, I am not a vegan."

She paused and thought hard about what the old creature had just asked her and shook her new head.
"Nope. Don't really know much about ghouls. Except that I'm one now. it doesn't seem that bad, to be honest."

The looks she saw from the other ghouls showed mixed reactions. Some seem glad that she didn't find the change all to detrimental as most saw it when they transform into ghouls, but others look concerned and others sadden. The old ghoul before her frown. "I suppose there are benefits to being a ghoul and some you would most likely enjoy, but you see our lord doesn't give us gifts without a price. That is one thing you learn about this world young lady, nothing in this world is even given freely. For anything earn one most always give something in return. Equivalent Exchange is the first rule to magic, and it is the first rule to the secret world."

The old ghoul explained, several missiles fired from Aegis flying overhead as they bombed several buildings to flaming rubble. "You see we are practically immortal. Age has no negative effect to us, are bodies are immune to most diseases and toxins made by nature, and our bodies are not only more durable than humans but we can regenerate from wounds that for most humans would either take much longer or would be impossible to fully recover from. But for the gift of enhanced life we must devour the flesh of the deceased." he finally explained to her. He waited to see her reaction to that.

Madi stared for a second.
Then
"....Is that it to the bad side effects? just that we need to eat dead people?"
She threw her new arms/hands up.
"Where do you even get a steady supply of dead people? Do you just...Go around to graveyards and dig up every grave there or something?"

The ghouls looked surprised that she wasn't too horrified by what she had to eat. "Aren't you concern on the fact that you are a necrocannibal, or that you have to eat dead things in general?" the ghoul asked her. One ghoul asked her question. "Pretty much. Why do you think the cult kicked us out of the graveyards? Otherwise we just get bodies from the streets whenever a homeless person died or one of the cults gives us bodies so they can dispose of evidence of their crimes or rituals."

Madi shrugged and looked up at the battle that seemed to be taking place in the sky for some reason
"I've eaten worse things in my bear form so, yeah, not really concerned about anything right now. Speaking of which-"

The creature looked up at the Raven and gestured towards it.
"Can I go fight now?"

The other ghouls looked around. "Honestly this battle would pretty much be a buffet for us if we survive so if you kill that bird you would just be giving us variety for our food." one ghoul told her, this one sounding feminine. "Oi girly, you're with Ashwood right? Tell her if she has any spices for us. We're gladly trade her some of our stuff for that stuff." another ghoul said, making the rest laugh.

The leader of the group also chuckled. "Yes, that witch does seem to find the best spices to give decaying corpses wonderful flavors. But for now we must first deal with our enemies before we can think on how best to eat them." the other ghouls began to prepare for battle as the ward bearers kept their shields up, ready to drop them when the time is right.

As the leader gave another prayer for the Charnel God to wish them luck for the battle he took out a blade and let out a war cry as the other ghouls charged forward to join back in the battle.



Alex walked through the field, staff on hand as she stare at the cultists who fired their rifles at her. The hail of bullets parting before her as though she was parting the red sea, her ward deflecting and reflecting them away from her. The witch began to speak enochian as she channel aetheric energy to channel the elemental powers of metal, fire, and wind. A strong gust came from her direction that would turn the bullets that flew towards her into metal slag that were moved away from her due to her ward.

Once the wind made contact with the cultists the metal on them, from their weapons to their armor, to even metal prosthesis and implants on and in their bodies, began to heat to the point they glow and began to metal. As the molten sludge covered their hands and bodies the cultists screamed in agony as they fell on the ground. The lich simply walked past them as she ignored them, phantom blades appearing above each cultists and coming down to end their suffering.

Alex looked around in the battle field, seeing Deidre riding upon a large worm like creature as it devoured several cultists before borrowing itself back underground. Gibson was using his robotic platform to command a squadron of hovering drones to provide aerial assistance to the ground forces as the wraiths possessed cultists, mercenaries, and sorcerers alike and made them turn on their allies.

She figured that the ghouls would be having a grand feast once the battle is over. Speaking of the ghouls she saw a few rise a few corpses as a horrendous golem of twisted flesh and jagged bones, a traditional war golem variant as far as Order mages are concern, Alex would have gone for earth or metal as they can endure more punishment and aren't as much of a hassle to clean after.

With the thought of creating a golem in mind she took out a small clay figure and went down on the ground and buried it, chanting in hebrew as she did and performing a few gestures over the ground. She would continue to chant in hebrew even as some of the cultists own mages began to perform counter magic to override her own magic. This struggle over magic however was in vain as the mages were nothing more but mere occultists who only knew a few spells and rituals than someone like Alex who lived and breath magic, a statement even more true as she was now a lich, a being who was nothing more but a walking, talk, Azoth factory.
A figure of earth and dirt arose from the ground, a hulking being whose dirt body was covered by armor of harden stone. Some of the rocks and soil had pieces of metal taken from the weapons and armor from the dead, infact Alex saw pieces of bones and body parts of the dead being mixed in with the golem's body.

As she ordered her golem to attack a group of long faced, eight legged, skinless canine creatures pounced at the group as the golem brought it's fist down and caused rock spikes to emerge from the ground. The lich began to walk around to leave the golem alone to it's onslaught. When she saw the fight between the Raven and everyone she was willing to join in the fight to fight for the wraiths. As she floated up she would look back on the ground, looking down right at the moment as Madi was being resurrected as a ghoul.

The wraith was torn on whether to be glad Madi was still alive or to give the ghouls a piece of her mind. She felt great pity for the girl as she was now forced to live her life as a corpse eater, forever hidden from humanity due to her appearance and her diet.

But the screams of fellow wraiths brought her attention back to the Raven who was a major threat for the coalition. The lich decided to save the future argument over Madi's condition later, for now she has an old score to settle. Alex channeled the elemental energies to bend gravity itself to force the Raven down to the ground. The golem was near by to see the Raven coming down and it slammed it's fist on the ground to create a large arm to grow out of the ground and reach out to grab the Raven, to squeeze it into a bloody smear on it's palm.

With Alex dealing with the Raven in the air her daughter sliced through the ward of one mage and slashed him at the throat before he can chant another spell. Blood leaked out but that was temporary as eventually his throat would be sealed... albeit with an ugly scar that protrude slightly inward. On her right hand was the ebony knife known by the name it bestow on those cut by it, severance.

On her right was the counterpart found in the secret room within the library, the ivory twin of severance. It seems not only was the twin different by appearance but it's power was also different, yet it oddly complemented it's twin.

The cultists felt the scar with one hand he would thrust the other forward and as he tried to chant he found his throat not only hurt immensely as he tried to speak but his voice was hoarse and sounded low. These along with the pain made it difficult for him to chant his spell. He would lose the other hand as her black blade cut through his wrist and disarm him of his casting hand, making him hold the useless stump of his hand as he tried to scream in pain.
The witch left the mages alone to be picked off by the others as she knew he was no longer a threat, his days as a mage were over. She looked at the white knife, the weapon that brought an end to a mage's use of magic for good. She ignored the fact that a group of charging ghouls killed the former mage as her mind was on her new weapon.

Where as Elizabeth's old knife works by severing target once the blade makes contact with them, this other blade's curse was binding. The binding effect occurs once the blade has made it's cut, once that occurs the curse would begin to improperly bind the flesh together. Because of it's sloppy nature it would cause severe necrosis, as it works on a molecular level. So, any injury cause by this blade can't be healed even with normal healing magic, one needs advance form of healing magic to even try to reverse it's effects.

More over it's powers can affect alterations, magic constructs, and even souls once it has consume enough blood, sharing the vampric qualities of it's twin as well as it effecting things beyond the material plane. Elizabeth mused if the two blades would get stronger as the other consume more blood? The two's powers seem to work well with each other, surely both become stronger as the other drinks more blood?

Elizabeth sensed danger coming to her and as she quickly turn around she spotted a cultist wielding an enchanted sword bringing the blade down at her. She quickly slashed at the blade with her cursed knife, the curse making the blade easily slice through the metal and breaking the blade two, the curse severing not only the metal keeping the blade stable but the magic that was imbued within the blade. So clean was the cut that the only loose she had to worry about was the severed half of the blade that flew off, which she dodged as she moved her left shoulder down and moved to the right.

The cultists was surprised to see the blade break but it didn't last as he began to thrust the broke blade towards her. The witch deflected the blow with her knife and sparks were generated as she pushed the blade away from her as she moved the upper half of her body to the side to put as much distance from her and the blade. She would try to stab him with her binding blade but the cultists dodge the strike by jumping back.

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Demincia
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Founded: Jul 08, 2010
Democratic Socialists

Fuck The Call of the Wild

Postby Demincia » Fri May 10, 2019 12:47 pm

As the cultists dropped his now useless blade he would reach over to grab another blade and just as the blade left it's scabbard he would see that Elizabeth had put away her blinding blade and held a revolver on her head, she was quick to pull the trigger before he can even try to move. "I guess he never saw Indiana Jones." she said as she blow at the barrel of her gun. The witch would see another cultist trying to shot her and as she aim her gun at him she began to run, firing at him just as he did.

The first cultist went down but another took his place as he tried to shot at the witch. The witch so far dodged them due to most being off mark. As she shot at the other cultists she would find that this one was following her idea as he ran to not only catch up to her but make her aim more difficult, as the broken glass and wall getting new bullet holes show.

The witch would find the body of one of the larger robots sent by the Cabal lying on the ground, it's chest blown open from a rocket launched by one of the Arwen Corphs rocket launchers. As she jumped towards it she would roll to the body of the dead automaton as she head a bullet bounce off the metal. She would begin to reload the gun and once it was full she held it close as she look to her left.

She would peak out slowly and quickly go back as a shot range out. "Shit. This one isn't an armature." the witch cursed. She took a few deep breaths and after she exhaled and felt confident that her own body won't cause any shaking that would throw off her aiming she quickly pulled out of her cover and fired a single shot before diving back for cover.

She was unsure if her shot hit her target. The witch saw a piece of scrap metal and without much thought would grab the piece and left it over to test if the gunman was alive. She would wait for a shot but nothing occurred. She ponder for a moment if she truly got them? Yet while she wanted to say she got her target a part felt that this was too easy.
The chaos mage pulled the piece of metal back. She would take out her lipstick and begin to write down a sigil as she chanted a few words, putting her mind in the proper state for the spell she wanted to cast on the piece of metal.

After a few minutes she would be done and moving the scrap of metal again she would get a different result as a gun shot was heard and her hand would be moved back as the bullet tore a hole through the metal, the sound of the metal breaking open rang out.

"Figures that old movie cliche wouldn't work unless I cast a glamour to trick him that I was sticking my head out like an idiot." the witch dropped the piece of metal as she pulled her hand back. She took out a cigarette and light it. "So how do we deal with this wanker without our head having a matching hole like that piece of junk we used." the witch said as she took a long drag on her cigarette.

The witch thought over her options, thinking on both her mundane and magical options. She was reminded of one of the many new devices she made with Kyle and sighed. "I was hoping to save this thing for the Raven but looks like I have no choice on the matter. This whole mess sucks." she said as she took out a spherical shaped device. The witch was taking another drag, mentally counting down a number sequence as she waited for the right moment to throw the orb.

Once the sequence was down she would peak out quickly and dive back in as the gunmen fired, missing her by a hair length. The witch would take her arm out and throw the orb quickly. The orb didn't travel far as she was more concern on not getting her arm shot but as the orb bounced on the ground the gunman would open fire on it, unleashing an intense bright flash. The man screamed out loudly as his eyes were blinded by the flash. Yet blinded would be the less of his concerns as he felt something hit him on the right shoulder and chest as Elizabeth open fire on him through the bright flash.

She would quickly get up and ran away from the man, never making sure if her bullets actually hit him or not. The witch look over and as she saw more cultists with guns preoccupied with shooting at her allies she would aim at them and fire at them, some of her bullets missing but others hitting their marks. Those that turn to face her would find that doing so was a terrible mistake as they left themselves open for their previous enemies to take the shot and end their lives. It was something Elizabeth was hoping would happen when she brought attention to herself.

The surviving cultists would duck for cover and aim at the witch. Cursing herself for her plan not quite having as many cultists killed as she wanted she would remove her makeshift bandages and command her tenebraes to strike at the cultists. As tendrils dug into the wound the witch tried to ignore the pain as shadowy tentacles emerge from her shadow and reached for the cultists. The large mass acting as a shield for Elizabeth as the bullets sunk into the shadowy tentacles but never emerged at the other side.

The tentacles would thrash wildly at the cultists once it was close to them. Most would run away from them and escape their wraith but others were caught and were either being repeatedly bashed on the ground and dragged on it as Elizabeth continue to run or they were skewed by the tentacles and their bodies also being dragged along with the tendrils. The witch didn't quite care on whether she got any kills or not, so long as no one was shooting her was all that matters

The witch would run into a building with the doors wide open and go inside, pressing her back against the wall as she used this as a short time to take a break. Having the gun close to her chest she closed her eyes and was trying to calm herself down, ignoring the fact that she had dead bodies around her due to her tenebraes.

The shadowy familiars began to absorb the bodies into themselves as they consume them. The witch used this as her chance to reload her gun. She thought of maybe taking a different pistol from the others, maybe she would be better off with them? As the chamber was full again she would closed it, the tentacles were no longer carrying dead bodies on them. As the witch looked around the house she would see a flight of stairs leading upstairs, she ignored them due to the age of the stairs making her not feel confident on them holding her weight.

She enter the living room and saw that it was fill with dust and broken furniture. "Well at least this one has no dead bodies." she said, being reminded of one case where she was in a similar scene but the couch having dust and cobweb covered mummified corpses. A case that like many of her past ones was a strange and macabre tale.
The witch would walk to the dining room table and saying plates set up but with nothing on them. In the kitchen she would find old and broken kitchen appliances. From the shattered window she would find the Raven being dragged down to the open palm of a massive arm made of rock and dirt.

"Oh hell no. I'm not going to have my second chance on killing that damn bird be stolen again!" she shouted as she climbed on top of the kitchen counter and leap through the shatter window. Once she was on the ground she ran towards the Raven, firing all of the rounds of her gun at it. These rounds were her Vim enriched bullets, these acting as explosives incendiary rounds once they made contact with something.

The witch would replace her gun with her new knife and continue to run towards the Raven as she order the tenebraes to attack the Raven. The shadowy tentacles and chains from her familiars would come out of her shadow and fly towards the avian monster.

Madi watched the other Ghouls run off and raised her gaze to the scene before her - the Raven was down, surrounded by various people, Alex was there, Liz was running towards it while firing a weapon, then tenebraes came from nowhere and started to lash out at the giant evil bird.
The creature started to walk towards the Raven, but then stopped mid step as she ruined her clothing with no warning.

The creature stared down at herself, visibly confused.
She didn't feel any shame about what had happened, just uncomfortable.
No matter, I can clean my clothes with Tergo
So Madi held out her arms to the side, and flicked her wrists - nothing.
She paused, then tried again - still nothing.
A third time - again, nothing.

Madi let her arms fall to her sides, confused and worried. Had the transformation destroyed her magic somehow? The creature racked her brain, trying to come up with a solution to her current problem. Then, it came to her.
There was one thing she could do.
The creature reached down with one hand and carefully tore her lower clothing from her, and let it fall to the ground besides her. After a moment of consideration, she tore off her remaining clothing and let it fall to the ground as well. Besides the Time-Stone crystal hanging from its silver chain around her neck, she was now naked as the day she had been born.
And for once in her life, she didn't care that she was.

Madi decided to exanime herself right then and there, on the battlefield, with people dying all around her. Satisfied that everything was were it should be, at least, the creature bent down and picked up the Sword of Gryffindor and the Hogwarts Shield, looked up towards the Raven, and continued to walk towards it. Once she was close enough, she started to run.

When she was about ten feet away from the Raven, Madi heard a voice and she turned her muzzled head just slightly to her right - it was Fafnir.
"You have changed, Skin-Changer. And I do not know if I like the new you. You are too...Feral. But I will help you if you need me."
Madi only nodded in response and Fafnir vanished to wherever he vanished off to until he was needed.

The Raven was five feet away now, it appeared to be occupied, so Madi slowed to a complete stop, crouched, feeling sudden power in her new legs, then launched herself towards the Raven, exhilaration coursing through her veins.
"DIE!"



"Live, damn it..."
She was too afraid to retch. Every motion, every single movement was tortuous. Just existing, just being real was agony. She held her breath until her abdomen started to writhe of its own accord, trying to suck in desperate lungfuls of air. Each jerking motion, each sudden swelling and falling in her stomach, felt terrifyingly vivid, and real. She was stuck in the present, feeling the world rip her to shreds for ever daring to extend her debt. Her silt heart beat for the first time and it was awful. Sandpaper ripped the lining of her heart apart, a coarse grating feeling filling her body like grain into a sack. She had just enough sensation besides the pain to see Jacquelyn, standing half in the molten wall. Andarta reached out, fingers sinking deep into the floor. She was as tense as steel, her fingers sinking into the floor and ripping up her nails. She pulled herself forward, gurgle coming from the back of her throat.
Claudia was in perfect shape. From the crown of her head to the bottom of her soles, she was a picture of pristine health. Though her chest was made of dried clay and her skin was covered in this irremovable black film, she was strong. All she had to do was work, and accept what burden she'd accepted. She felt like she was being pulled in a thousand directions, every fiber of her being attuned to a different frequency and voice, a different chord of the universe's harmony. Reality was crystalline, and absolute. She was ugly, and broken. The funnel through which honey was squeezed, the lathe with which gold was cut. The mechanical eyesore which produced great things, but which injured the psyche to observe on its own.
One hand. Electric flashes, and black in the edge of her vision. One knee. Magma, running through her veins. A foot. A billion times Atlas' duty, mounted on her shoulders. She grabbed the opposite side of the room and pulled it to her, skipping the tedium of true motion. Halfway there her hand gave way. It went limp, undamaged but unresponsive. It had locked itself out, overloaded with too much input to be used. The rest of her body followed, paralysed piece by piece as she tried to move. She fell down, and felt like the world had to have split underneath her, for how hard she seemed to hit the floor. Each tiny, microscopic imperfection in the ground was like a spike through her flesh. Minute imperfections created cascades of sensation, invading her body with galvanising spears.
Not good enough.
She wasn't going to sit here and cry. Mope around, feel sorry for herself. She was past that. She'd been past that, before falling into dependence. Get up, Claudia. Who said you could lie down? Her knuckles bit into the earth while she lifted herself up, trembling in materia but solid in spirit. She roared at the ground, daring it to come up and meet her. She scorned the air with her eyes, daring it to pull her from her goal. No more screaming, no more tears. She'd been mourning her friends when she should've been avenging them. Helping them fight not for her, but for themselves. It had never been about the god damn plan. It'd always been about helping the weak. Letting nobody brave the world alone. She wanted to give back. She wanted to be so much more!
More than a little girl. More than a victim, born to play the part of the kid in someone else's story. She wanted to be seen as a hero. She understood she wasn't kind enough or brave enough to be a true one, but maybe - just maybe - if she put on the act, she could help somebody become a true savior. Or maybe, she thought, she'd wanted to be the villain. She wanted somebody to step forward and stop her. Yeah, that seemed more correct. She'd spent so long waiting for an opponent, spent so long preparing for a war, that she'd forgotten who she was even going to fight. She'd been so shortsighed. She still was so shortsighted. Now, though, just five minutes into the future, she saw two potential outcomes. One that would mean the end of everything she'd ever known, and another that she wanted to fight for.
"Jacquelyn!"
The soldier gave her a placid look, like a fox regarding an ant. She was so far away, and so far beyond. Another wave of doubt struck Andarta, her resolve faltering just long enough that she couldn't help but stare back. Then the girl sank into the wall completely, and disappeared into the melt. She wanted to give in right there. She realised that the most powerful thing in this dimension was heading up to the surface, where no legion could stand against her. She believed, just for a second, that she should give in. When her courage returned however, she was startled to find that she still thought herself too weak to make a difference. She thought that even if she went up there, that Jack would still wipe them out. Her desire to throw herself into battle wasn't born out of any belief in victory. It was principle.
"You're really trying to pump yourself up, aren't you?"
She pivoted on one foot, expression remaining infuriatingly neutral. "I've seen it before. People running on nothing but prayers." her hand snapped upward, forming a claw just in front of her shoulder. "You're in a lot of pain, Andarta." "I don't care. Kyle already played this schtick out." her head, heavy as it was, still held itself high. She stared straight at mass murderer's face, and found absolutely nothing to scrutinise. "Kyle," she began, "is a pragmatist. He goes for a result, no matter what he has to do to get there. He'll say anything to achieve a goal. As a result, he doesn't really know what he believes, since he keeps up so many personas. Me? This is real. I'm taking time which I could be using to blast your army to smithereens to talk to you."
"You're doing this to feel superior! You lord your power and your past over everyone else when really, you'd be nothing without your birthright. You don't fight for anything but yourself. Everyone out there is fighting for their world!" Jacquelyn shrugged, and shimmed toward the wall. "I'm all the world that I need." one brilliant, substanceless flash slipped out of her hand. Andarta, caught in the headlights, could only close her half molten eyes and bend them back into shape, healing the new burns across her body atom by atom. Her physiology was failing, and so she chose to switch over to the arcane arts. Her limbs were animated by the space around them, not truly having to move. She was practically just a puppet now. An avatar for some suffering, insecure mind. Yet Jackie was already gone, and sunken into the earth. She dived in after her, knowing already that the worst had happened.
The Raven squawked and buffeted its enemies with wind, flinging feathers and shards with every motion, and generating a whirling storm of blades that nearly nobody could approach. Dark hands ripped at its hide and pulled it down, but their strength was found wanting. It ripped scores in bystanders and pulled them beneath its wings, grinding their bones into bleached flour, and adding their flesh to its own. It made another attempt to lift off, and was once again pulled down by the wraiths on the ground. Bullets exploded on its shields, guttering flames trying to latch onto the oils that it was lathered it. The air, however, sucked the fire away, and knocked aside blades.
There was a rumble.
A tremor that gave them pause, even if for just a second. The Crimsonites who still stood leaned into their radios and earpieces for a moment, before running from the battle. They leapt over one another, both dead and alive, heading for the compound. Their golems and demons moved away from the brawl and sealed the streets behind their summoners, keeping coalition forces from pursuing. The bombardment continued, but they hardly seemed to care. The whole earth shone with a dazzling golden light, that poked through each crack in the pavement and each clod of dirt, before a vast explosion engulfed it all. The town was turned inside out, churned into mulch by this rolling energetic wave. Buildings sank into the ground and lakes drained away, while a single yellow dot rose above it all.
Jacquelyn Vanth looked down at the Crimsonites, and took a second to realise they were shooting at her.
She flicked her finger at an artillery operator, all the moisture in his body boiling away. He should've exploded, if not for all the holes in his skin where the water could escape. A mage threw a red lightning bolt at her thigh, one which fizzled out against her shield. She gripped his neck firmly with burning irons, and twisted sharply to the right. "Why isn't she killing them all?" Amalie demanded, standing amongst a mountain of bodies; ally and enemy. "She's waiting for them to fight her first," Lana whispered. "This isn't a fight to her. This is an experiment." a psionic lash rent the sky, cast by a cabal of purplish priests. It passed through her barrier and so she simply moved herself out of the way, landing amongst the spell casters and scouring the air until their bodies turned to ash.
The Reavers, and the Brigadier, stood in an elevator, waiting to deploy. Yet, the greatest weapons The Crimsonites could muster, stayed underground. Vanth was on the field, after all.
"Stop!" a perfect, pitched voice. "I demand that you stop!" her eye twitched just a bit as she snapped her fingers and blew Vincent through a wall. "Sterling had psions back home, too. You're not special."



With the Raven coming down both Alex and Elizabeth were either dodging feathers or hid behind wards. As the dark hands of Elizabeth's familiars tore into the raven and Alex's gravity spell kept it in place while dragging it I to the hand of her golem the two thought on two things. One was how easy it was that they seem to capture it and now seem to be on their way of killing it. Yet the fact that the two might kill the foul monster that ruined their lives and separated them together made the two wishes put aside their concern, the opportunity of achieving their revenge was far more important to them.

Yet the two should have been concern on the apparent ease as they felt a massive spike of energy growing. The two looked around and noticed the cultists retreating. As golden light began to break through the Earth. The mages and espers knew that they must flee. All shouted to retreat, Gibson by the use of drones with loud speakers and implants, Diedre by her telepathic link, wraiths and ghouls by word of mouth. Regardless how they tried to warn others in the coalition it was too late as the ground beneath them exploded.

As bodies fell from the sky along with the ground Alex was for the most part immune from the explosion, yet her daughter was bruised and cut up, she was being held by her as she was knocked out by the attack. Alex did her best to protect her from the sudden explosion. She felt bad that she couldn't get her out unscathed by was glad she didn't loss a limb.

A fate some were unlucky to get as she saw a hand nearly hit her as it fell. Throughout the battle the wraiths were thrown back but unharmed. The ghouls were either dead or injured, yet those injured but can still fight began to get up with a struggle. The cabal lost a large percentage of their machines and the Gardeners their monsters, yet the bodies of alme of their members were far more resilient to be taken out so easily. Yet even with it they still struggle to get back up.

Gibson had to link up with a drone as the robotic platform he used was destroyed while Deidre was being carried out of the fight due to her injuries. The ghoul leader was still standing as well as the wraith.
The ghouls saw several openings underground and taking advantage of the new openings dove undetgeijgd and began to construct tunnels to attack the cult from underneath, a few groups joining the ghouls in constructing the tunnels. Alex would land down and while still carrying her daughter would walk to Lana. "What on Earth was that?" She asked her. The rest of her group was pulling back to drag put injured party members

Alive.
She was still alive.
What had happened?
Oh, yeah, someone had showed up and....set everything on fire?
Created an earthquake?
Whoever they were, they had done something, alright.

Madi slowly climbed to her hooved feet and looked up at the sky, then looked around at her surroundings. Utter destruction, wherever she looked.
it was almost unthinkable, incomprehensible; her head hurt trying to understand what had happened.
So she didn't think about it.

The ghoul noticed Alex carrying Liz, the wraith was walking over to Lana, and Madi started to limp towards them, then stopped.
She had been injured from the attack, but her wounds were slowly healing themselves. They didn't even hurt now, they were just annoying to deal with.
Madi shook her dog/bat head and kept walking towards the familiar people.

Once she reached them, she stopped around five feet away, acting as if she would take off at the slightest hint of aggression.
"....Alex....I....What....Why is everything gone?"
The creature gestured to the world around her and waited for a response.

"It's Jacquelyn." Lana crawled over a concrete bluff, face and hair matted with soot. "She's- she came out of the ground. Look." she coughed into her arm, pointing at a small light, visible through the haze. The ground shook again, and a sweltering heat washed over the assembled crowd. The dust and soil were whipped up into a frenzy and for a moment they all had to avert their eyes or risk having them gouged out by stones and shrapnel. When the zephyr had cleared it was obvious to see what Jack was doing. She was carving up the remaining cults, who were in turn directing all their ordnance at her. Vast bursts of green and blue engulfed her, leaving the monolith untouched. A worm with girth as great as a cottage raised itself up by its body and fell upon her, turning to boiling mush as it did so.
"Vanth!"
She looked down at some unknown speaker, distant and quiet. "This has gone on for too long!" another figure, wreathed in black mud, rose into the sky and put its hands together. A singularity formed between each palm, the world drifting toward it. There was no gravity, or motion. Merely, everyone and everything just kept getting closer. Like pulling elastic toward the centre of a funnel. "Leave this people alone." a clap, followed by the realisation that they weren't in Kansas any more. The Crimsonites' cults were gone, replaced by a flat plane of dirt. Where they had gone was anybody's guess. She sent them away so calmly, so casually, it was hard to imagine this entity as anything other than a force. Something that acted, and could not be acted upon.
"You look old, Claudia. Don't you think it's time to take a rest?" "I'll rest when you're dead." they both snapped, and were gone. "You happy now? Looks like your girlfriend's fine." Lana asked, trying to keep the contempt from her voice. Kyle and his proxies stood by her, each one untouched by war. "You seem a bit bitter. Trust me. If I'd been here, things would've been much worse." he pointed at a distant speck, where five lines of ten were arrayed. "The Reavers specifically hate me, after all." they disappeared soon thereafter, following the Crimsonites into whatever sanctuary Andarta had set up for them. The battle had been lost long before Jacquelyn's arrival. He knelt down, gesturing at Alex. "Help me open the portal again. We have to pursue Andarta. We can't let Jackie try taking her on alone." his bots knelt down, tattooing the ground with chalk and ink. "I'm not resting until I know that she's safe."

The lich look down at Elizabeth who was still unconscious. She sighed as she put down her daughter and went to Kyle to help with his ritual. Once the symbological work was down Alex began to speak in Latin as she was using invocation to call upon different powers that control time and space to create a gate. She used her staff to trace several symbols ph the air as she walked around in a careful manner, timing each movement with her words and gesture.

The group would see a black circle appear before them. Elizabeth chose this time to wake up. "Anyine got the lisence plate of that truck that hit me?" She asked as she rub her forehead, smearing her blood all over her forehead
Looking at her head she didn't bother saying anything. She would get up and see the portal. "So what is going on? All I remember is the world exploding before passing out." She look around the battlefield. "So I take it we didn't win but we didn't lose either huh?"

"Nobody's won or lost yet. We're still in the thick of it." Lana's interjection was punctuated by the sight of the field, where men were slowly rising. Like corpses from their graves they pulled themselves out of the dirt and reoriented themselves. No shots were fired, and no grand sweeping declarations were made. It was silent, peaceful, and boiling. The air was thick with heat, and patches of dirt still glowed, with molten stone pushing it way through the surface. Rumbles preceded collapses, and whole craters sank into the earth, slowly turning the hard soil to thin, infirm sand. Kyle stood over the aperture that Alex had formed, his bodies standing back. "Take a moment to get your bearings. This is the last Crimsonite stronghold. If we wipe them out here, they're dead for good. If we don't, they grow another head."
"Everyone ready?"

The group was silent. Alex was ready to fight but she was concern for her group and her daughter. Elizabeth took out a cigarette and began to smoke as she sat back on the ground, her knees raised and her legs open, uncaring of what she was doing was unladylike. "So the cowards turn tail and left the moment your girlfriend nuked us? I don't blame them. I would have done the same thing." Elizabeth turn to look at Kyle. "You better hope your girlfriend didn't give us all radiation poisoning or else I will drag your sorry ass to hell." She threaten as she blew out smoke.

Alex was ready to go but was concern for her team and for her daughter. She walked up to Metis. "How is everyone?" The automaton looked as little worse for wear but she still seem to be functional. "Rolo, Nix, Wui, and Valeria can still fight. However Theodore, Mai, Richard, and Simon are in no condition to fight now." She look down slightly. "Nor am I." Alex was surprised. "My core took some damage. I fear that if I go in now I will deactive in mid battle or suffer a critical shutdown."

The lich frown at the news. "I will begin to heal everyone. We can use the time to heal those still alive and salvage whatever we can from the deceased. Wr are going to need everything we for this fight." The automaton needed. As the lich began to heal her team other faction members follow suit, healing the living or in the case of the cabalist salvaging and reactivating robots that were not too broken.

The ghouls were bringing in weapons and bodies. Not only were they planning on upgrading their gear but they were going to use this moment to get some last minute meal, to regain. their energy before the major fight ahead of them. The wraiths watched the others. One dressed as a 20th century admiral of the British Navy approached Lana. "What would you have us do?" He asked. "We may be dead but we wish to help you all prepare for this final battle."

Elizabeth was healed from her wounds by her mom and as she got up she flicked her cigarette away and dusted herself. "So what is waiting for us at the other side Kyle?" The witch asked as she put her hands in her pants pockets.

"Oh, you know. Probably a couple hundred fugitives, a base decked out with weapons and emplacements. Thing is, we'll be arriving at the same place they did. If anything, we'll be in a better position than them. The reavers though, might prove to be a problem."
Lana addressed the ghoul with an air of composure, despite the losses they'd suffered. Around her, she saw familiar faces lying up in the dirt, unmoving. Others, she saw twisted into wraiths, ghouls and automata. The cults certainly hadn't been kind to the dead, then. "I don't know what we can do. All our soldiers, all our assets have been pooled. Whatever we have now is all that we've got left. Kyle, who goes in first?" "Me. I've got the most expendable bodies. You, the Scourge and then Whisperwood follow. You're the most durable, and our best shock troops. After that, it's anyone's game."

As Lana declared who was their shock troops the others decided to act as support with the wraiths choosing to be sappers. Alex looked at Madi and she tried not to let her new form bother her but she still gave her a frown. "Jackie is what happened. She blew everything up." She told her. "But I'm concern about you. Why are you a ghoul? Do you know what is going to happen to you now that you are like that?"

Elizabeth kicked a rock when Kyle told her what to expect. "Reavers. Isn't that something from AEGIS? Why the hell are there Reavers working with them?" She asked.

Madi bared her teeth and growled, though not at anyone, but at what she was remembering.
"I fought Vincent and....Well, I decided that I didn't want to live anymore. So I let him kill me, except I was brought back and turned into this."
She gestured towards herself, not caring at all that everyone was looking at her unclothed, and then met Alex's gaze.
"If the fact that all I can eat now is dead people, then yes, I know what is going to happen to me."
She tilted her head a bit to the right in confusion.
"Is there something else that the others didn't tell me?"

"There's nothing wrong with eating human flesh? Christ." Lana shook her head. "I'd like to know, too. Why does the Corps have access to Reaver tech?" Kyle's many arms clasped many weapons, lining up just beyond the threshold of the portal. "It's not important. Keep your head in the game." his primary body looked away, rolling its eyes. "No. Tell me right now. The Corps might have access to our database. If there's a leak, I need to know about it." "They're your future selves," he grumbled. "Is this conversation important? Couldn't you have waited?" she stepped back, perplexed. "So in the future, AEGIS is a terrorist organisation?" "No, they get fucked. There's a really shitty day, and they get scattered. These guys? The Corps' Reavers? They're the originals. Supersoldiers who spent too long in the past and decided that they should help Andarta." silence. "Well, maybe they thought that whatever Andarta wants to do was preferable to the future."
"Andarta's plan is to remove all anomalies. If you're going to turn tail, just do it now." she shook her head. "No, no. I just wanted to know. Curiosity, y'know?" "Yeah. Sure."

Kyle sucked in a deep breath, pumping himself up and fidgeting. "These guys, they're tough as shit. One of them, an old retired mom, nearly gutted me with her bare hands. When we get in there, leave the heavy-hitters to take the Reavers down. The small guys are your responsibility, got it? I'll protect you as best I can." "Understood. Ashwood, you listening? We're about to jump." rows and rows of troops gathered up, the mortally injured and the dead carried away by medics. Anyone who remained was ready to throw themselves through. All who were in no condition to fight had been evacuated. Lana scratched a cut on her cheek, distracting herself with the sting. "This is it, everyone. Are you ready to go?"

Madi's yellow cat-like eyes sparkled with anticipation, she let out a low snarl and started to flex her sharp claws and shifted side to side on her hooves.
"Let me at them. I'll tear them all to pieces, just you watch."

The ghoul suddenly darted towards the portal, then stopped just before it and looked back at Kyle like a dog waiting a signal from its master: A signal to go through the portal and kill.

Hearing that the Corp was AEGIS from the future surprised the group. "Wait when you say they are from the future you mean an alternative timeline or they are from this timelines future?" Elizabeth asked, finally getting around to say one of the many questions she has on the Corp now.

Regardless of whether they are truly from the future or from another timeline it didn't matter now, if they want to stop Andarta they need to take out her super soldiers. "No pressure huh?" She muttered as she loaded her revolver. When Madi charged forward to the portal the witch looked to see everyone else waiting for the que to go in.

The witch looked around and shrugged as she walked forward. "Come one you apes you all want to live forever?!" She shouted as she walked to the portal. "Our enemy has run away with their tail between their leg. Right now they are badly beaten and desperate. If we can survive through their final arsenal we can defeat their leaders and end this cult once and for all." She turn around to face the group, her back to the portal.

"If you fuckers manage to survive this the drinks will be on me and the Order!" Elizabeth stepped into the portal just as Rolo shouted. "We didn't agree to that Ashwood!" The other factions either didn't hear Rolo or more likely chose to ignore him as they all cheered, ready to end this conflict. As the coalition forces all lined up and began to pour into the rift Alex stayed to watch.

"Kyle the yellow mage. I noticed that he was using some sort of device when absorbing the souls. While the power I felt was different it reminded me if another item I found in the manor. A cylinder whose abilities and nature I haven't quite figured out yet other than it responded to Dawn and her sister's presence." The lich told him.



"I didn't hate them because they hurt me. The pain, the misery, I could handle that. I chose to carry this weight, knowing what it would bring."
"It was the other things. The little bits, and the not so little ones, that made me despise them. The way my father would look at me like I disgusted him, the way my mother would treat me like some china doll, rather than a person. The way they talked down to me in every sentence, dripping with condescension. The way they prattled and said the same things over, and over, and over, every time they opened their filthy mouths. They could talk for days, and not say a single thing. My dad belittled me, treating me as a burden rather than responsibility. And in return, he expected more affection than any child could provide. He used me and hated me, and thought that I should love him!"
["Rejection got you to where you are now, Andarta. Rejection of your parents. Rejection of reality. You don't want people to be happy, you want them not to suffer. You'd remove their ability to choose, simply because you can't handle the pain of knowing what your parents chose to do. You were too weak to push through the suffering, and so you assumed nobody else would be strong enough, either."]
["At least he believed in what he was doing."]
"No. He was a fanatic. He didn't believe, he existed to carry out his false idol's orders. He, and all the Crimsonites before him, knew nothing but how to worship their god. If I could remove the gods, if I could let humanity decide for itself, then..."
["They'd tear each other apart. And you know that's going to happen. That's why you're going to isolate them, too."]
"They won't be able to hurt each other."
["It will be agony for them, you understand? Not seeing anyone but themselves for eternity. Spending their whole lives trapped inside a dimension formed by only them. Containing only them and what they imagine. They won't be able to help each other. They'll never have their Amalie!"]



Inversion.
Station IIV was a lonely place, not least because it was three thousand light years from the nearest galaxy but mostly because it was simply empty of anything to enjoy. The walls and views, spectacular as they were, paled in comparison to the lovely shades of green, ochre and blue that terrestrial sights provided. It was not meant to be beautiful and ephemeral, like stone and water. It was made to endure, and preserve the remnants of whatever had come before any unspecified catastrophe that may or may not have occurred. Whether the place would ever see sanctioned visitors depended on the date and nature of the apocalypse. Before that, though, it would see other residents in its glassy confines. Just under five hundred cultists materialized within its primary loading bay, a vast cylinder lined with sigils and wards, meant to funnel unwanted visitors into the garbage disposal. The system had been rather expertly reconfigured by The Brigadier, though. Reavers among the crowd, knowing that pursuit might follow (as pursuit tends to do), funneled the various groups out into the station at large. Its warped rooms, constantly reconfiguring their sizes, dimensions and tendency to incinerate those inside them, swallowed up the refugees and dispersed them throughout. The evacuation was only halfway complete, however, when the hounds caught them by the heels.

A spiral of weaponry emerged from a rift above, an immediate barrage cutting off the exit to the room and moving up along the fleeing throng. Their deaths were instantaneous and surgically executed. Kyle used exactly as much energy was was necessary to dispatch them, and as little time as he could. Even the tiniest of variables could derail his victory. The reavers drew their arms and immediately returned fire, bolts and slugs spinning up into the air. They jumped off the walls, creating a helical lattice that circled around the central spire and filled it with lead. The vanguard of flying drones were perforated with plasma weaponry, their tough exteriors doing little to provide solace to their now-mushy insides. The first humanoid followed, the legs of an arthropod warform wrapped around it. The armature loosed a blast of light, the reavers all spinning in random directions just before it fired. A laser bounced off each of the walls in turn, passing through the space where the reavers' heads had been but moments before. The humanoid propelled itself downward while its shield detonated, spreading shrapnel and fire about the chamber. More and more bots crawled into the space, heading straight for the reavers who were forced to move into more and more chaotic patterns, breaking the order which The Brigadier had hoped to maintain.

Kyle, as they knew, thrived in situations with many variables. He had no upper limit to his calculative abilities and so, would always come out on top if the game remained a simple contest of variability and adaptation. The Reavers, however, were superior in both strength and individual skill. While they lacked the tactical disposability of the esper's drones, they possessed a degree of neural complexity which naturally generated outcomes that he could not predict. They brawled all throughout the chamber, each side trying to play the macro game to their side. Kyle attempted to break apart their formations, his drones targeting individuals or duos, while the Corps repeatedly attempted to create some natural, predictable order either by shifting their individual conflicts into a matter of sheer firepower, and by locking down Kyle's tactical options. He went for the heart, while they went for the limbs.

A Reaver, #24, threw a machine to the earth and gripped its shoulder with one hand. She cupped the other beneath its neck and pulled upward, feeling the plaster and metal giving way. Its spine, though, was compressed like a spring. So, she didn't try to decapitate it. She pulled it out far enough that she could reach down its neck and take hold of its insides. Wires and veins filled with expended coolant seared her wrist and fingers, melting straight through her flesh. She gave up her skin, keeping only her muscles and tendons. They were all she needed to end this. The bot's body buckled beneath her, each of its arms coming up to arrest her motion. She interlocked her fingers around one of its hands and pushed hard, its elbow pausing as it hit the ground. She kept going through, and watched as its whole limb was pressed into the floor, crumbling into tiny flecks of silicon and steel. The other arm swung at her jaw too quickly for her to move her hand over. Instead, she bit down on its palm, hard. Molten metal and electric sparks stripped the inside of her mouth clean, yellow melt dribbling through her newly opened cheeks. The deed was done, though. Her fingers came out of the machine's neck clutching a little blue orb, ports all over severed from their connections. The bot fell silent and dead beneath her, just one of many minions they were having to fight.

One of her arms was simply gone, barely more than muscle clinging to bone. Another was bloodied and bruised, a shard of metal jutting out from both ends. Her gums, completely burnt away, relented and gave up her teeth, which fell to the ground covered in layers of red-hot metal. Her lower jaw and tongue were gone, but she'd done it. She'd taken one of the drones down on her own. If one Reaver could beat one robot, there was still hope. They outnumbered Kyle's proxies, after all. They could do this. They could still prevent the apocalypse. She couldn't prevent the explosion in her palm from tearing her in two, though, and vaporizing the left side of her skull. She couldn't prevent that nova from breaking the seal, and burning a hole in the side of the cylinder. She couldn't prevent the whole battle from tumbling out into deep space, while air tried to fill the gap.

On the surface, a corpse popped through just as the first AEGIS soldier was about to fall in. A corpse of a reaver, covered in deep burns and filled with gashes. A simple message was written on his forearms, scorch marks spelling out two words. "ONLY 40". The implication had around two seconds to sink in before the assault force revealed themselves. Three trios of reavers popped out amongst the allied armies, dressed in thick black visual cladding and wielding weapons of esoteric, often cataclysmic design. They swept through like debris in a vortex, drifting about and leaving those they touched disemboweled. A young, brave soldier tried to tackle one to the ground. The reaver's fist popped, breaking the sound barrier many times over, moving too quickly to be seen. The man's head, nay his whole upper torso, was gone. Almost thirty people behind him were bowled over by the sudden torrent of wind, eardrums burst. Those too close to the concussive blast were perforated with bone shards and supersonic giblets, killed instantly in the aftermath. They disposed of their enemies with brutal efficiency, shifting their position constantly, providing no solace from the attack. A group of mages cast a shield and a blurry black projectile came barreling through the crowd, crossing a distance of some hundred metres in mere seconds, passing through the barrier and slaughtering those within before they even knew that there was someone in there with them.

Lana watched one reaver, deployed alone, wade through her elite guard. The mechanically aided trooper jabbed a rifleman in the neck, decapitating him, and three people who happened to be standing nearby. She saw it grab a man by the arm and swing him so hard the bones slipped out of his palm, leaving the reaver holding an empty skin sack, its bottom end torn to shreds by an entire skeleton ejecting itself at lethal speed. She saw all of that happen, and then she saw none of what happened after because she was quite unable to process what was going on, being unconscious and all. The reaver put one arm around her neck and one arm on its gun, a rifle that its compatriots also wielded, firing rather familiar yellow blasts. "Close the portal." it didn't make any threats, or any unnecessary embellishments. It was a command, with the expectation of unconditional obedience. Amalie ran up to confront it, unarmed and smaller than anyone else amongst the crowd. "You think these people will negotiate with you?"
Stone cold motionless pause. "It doesn't matter either way. Either we eliminate your commander, or you allow us to escape. It's your choice." hundreds around them were falling. Eskir dueled a single one on his own, and struggled to keep pace. He was covered in deep gashes, leaking amberlike ichor. A whole team of vampires and spirits chased down another, who seemed to be even more efficient now that its targets were throwing themselves at their killer. "I suggest you hurry up. Once we're through with the esper, the rest of the Corps is going to come through."

Madi stepped towards the portal, but then realized that the area around the portal had turned into a massive battle.
Her senses went into overdrive, and it was very hard to focus-Lana.
A Reaver, one of nine that were attacking, was holding Lana hostage - an arm around her neck and a gun being pointed at her head - she was in grave danger.

The Reaver would hear some sort of roar, then feel something land on their back, the thing trying to kill them, as if they were trying to help Lana.

The reaver was well aware that Madison was about to strike. Honestly, they were rather excited by the development. They'd been trained extensively in anti anomalous warfare and takedowns of humanoid opponents. It was hardly a competition. The ghoul was weaker now, without magic or a familiar body to use. The reaver ducked beneath the first wild strike and dug an elbow into Madison's chest. A soldier stepped forward, taking the opportunity to fire into the reaver's head. In turn, they raised their hand and flicked the bullet back, shattering the round and filling the shooter with copper buckshot. They threw Lana into the sky, giving them around half a second to disable their opponent. Seven strikes followed, one to each limb, one to the neck, and two to each side of the heart. They caught the AEGIS commander on their way down, waiting for the corpse to fall. Amalie came forward, holding up a hand. "Won't you stop this?"

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Demincia
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Founded: Jul 08, 2010
Democratic Socialists

I'm kidding Buck is a real one

Postby Demincia » Fri May 10, 2019 12:52 pm

She snarled, her audience unconsciously turning their heads to face her and listen. "Why don't you show us your face? Are you too afraid to let us see who you are?" the reaver laughed. "I usually wouldn't be stupid enough to do this, but... y'know what? I don't have much to worry about either way." their helmet parted, hissing as sections of steel and metal folded away, revealing an old, scarred man's face. He was gruff with stubble around his chin and lip, black haired and dark skinned. "The name's John. Halloway. How're you doing, Amalie?" he spoke with this western drawl and a loose body. "So, how's the ole death goin' for you, Alex? I've got pretty much the whole Celestial Order's person of interest database in my head. It is a shock though, to see you standing here. What happened, you had unfinished business in the world of the living? You wanted to make up to your daughter, right? Well I think you should know, she dies in a gutter 'bout twenty years from now. Don't want to get too specific, though. Might ruin the fun."

Madi was sent flying about ten feet away by the jab to the chest and got up a few moments later, swaying a bit, before the Ghoul walked forwards, claws reaching for the Reaver-
She stopped.
The person in front of her had a name. A life. possibly a family.
The creature snarled, conflicted with what she should do.

The Ghoul stood there for a few moments, wavering, before she darted up to the Reaver and attempted to swipe at his head.

"God, fucking dammit."
John parried Madi's first strike, his arm halting hers. They battled back and forth, him using one limb to keep a hold of Lana and another to systematically tear down the ghoul's defences, targeting pressure points and slowly working his way up her arm, partially paralyzing her from the shoulder down. But, it was Amalie that closed out the fight. "What are you doing?! Can't you see that he has her hostage?! If you keep fighting, won't he kill her?"

She was mostly paralyzed.
Mostly.
Madi growled as her yellow slitted eyes bored into the Reaver's, smoldering with sheer rage and helplessness, then the creature broke eye contact and threw herself backwards, away from Lana, away from the Reaver and merely stood there, trembling, trying to keep herself in check.
And the Ghoul merely waited to see what was next.

As Madi distracted the Reaver the two Ashwoods both came an agreement, the elder would assist Kyle in his rampage through the facility while the younger helps Lana. As Alex lead her team from the Order forward the chaos magician took out a blackish blue rock with feathers of the same color on it tied by strings.

"I guess it's my turn to see how long I will last against the Captain America rejects." the witch said as she brought the rock close to her lips, whispering an invocation. When the witch was done with her chanting she would feel the rock heating up. The witch would take out another sphere and as she ran forward to the group she would see that one of the Reavers saw her.

The witch threw the sphere at the Reaver. The Reaver would strike it with quick speed and strength that they would shatter the metal construct, unleashing a bright flash as he fell for Elizabeth's trap. Elizabeth took out her cursed knife and as she ran towards the blinded Reaver she threw the rock close to where Lana was, aetheric energy building as quick flashes of sparks appeared on it.

Halloway was blind, but he was not deaf. And, if memory served, he could still just about see where everyone was. He threw Lana to the ground and delivered a gargantuan haymaker, the air emitting a deafening boom as his fist approached. His knuckles stopped just short of her head, pulled away by the rock. He gravitated toward it as sparks pulled his arm down, keeping him stuck. Though, both his legs and his other hand were still free. He kicked up a cluster of rocks and dirt, the debris travelling as quickly as grenade shrapnel. A lycanthrope threw herself in front of Elizabeth, taking the hit, which stripped all the hide from her body. She remained alive though, and charged toward John. His free hand went through a series of complex, near impossible motions, a rapidfire kinetoglyphic ward forming around the aetheric stone and shattering it with a blue fizzle, just as the werewolf pounced. His newly freed limb came round and hit the woman's body hard, severing her legs from the rest of her body. Three Hadean swordsmen threw themselves at him, who shattered all their blades with one swipe. The broken metal shards tore their heads off, spinning into the crowd. He grabbed his rifle and fired into the fae above, whose limbs were reaching down to grab him. They pulled saliva and tears from his face, drowning him in his own fluids. Yet, he didn't fall. He held his breath and blew them away, using his body to disperse the gunmen firing upon him.

Ghouls and wraiths leapt upon the reaver, whose armor lit up with orange runes as it tried to keep them away from his face. It was like fighting a colossus, except that colossus was about as large as a regular human, and fast enough to finish marathons in minutes. He wrapped his glove around a ghost, enchanted fingertips burning the spirit as he crushed its neck with one hand. Even as dozens of projectiles and blades came down, he continued to fight, moving toward Lana. Red chains wrapped around his shoulders, cast by a mage. He pulled upon them, throwing the caster over his shoulder and palming their head as they went by, thoroughly removing their skull from existence. Amalie ran in, scooping up her friend and running into the core of the AEGIS line, opening up with magnetic slugs and grenades. "How about you guys try puncturing his magical defenses? You know that reavers are vulnerable to akinetic, mundane attacks like fire and shockwaves, right?"

Madi dodged the Reaver's attacks and darted around to the man's back, then leapt forwards, onto the man's back, and started to tear at his suit/body.
She could feel herself becoming stronger, it was slow, but she could feel a difference from when she had first woken up to now, at least.

The sheer force produced by the incoming barrage was enough to physically move the reaver's body, forcing him backward. Madi's interference actually helped in that regard, increasing his inertia massively. Though, her arms were a bit of a problem. He swung around and grabbed her by the foot, slinging the girl into the line of gunners. His armor was covered in tiny scratches, and his runes were growing more volatile, shaking whenever they became visible. Penelope Aelisia, the Hadean girl whom Kyle had intimidated into joining his cause, leapt over the lines of men and skidded to a halt in front of the lone warrior, a long blade in one hand. "Oh. I didn't expect you to join in the battle. How's your cheesy god coming along? Still running with 'Zekto'Pai'?" she scowled and flashed right past him, targeting his joints and keeping herself just far enough that her sword outranged his fists. Though, the fight didn't last long. he simply grabbed the tip of her weapon and swung her by it into a rock, slamming her into the ground a couple times for good measure. "You know-" he grunted, blocking an artillery shell with his forearms, "It's kind of sad that even with all of you here, you can hardly take me down." another two reavers barreled through allied lines, turning the battle into a three-directional brawl. They were too close, too personal. None of the coalition's best weapons could be used at such a distance. They had to be taken away. Amalie stumbled across one of the two new reavers, a woman wielding an axe of some sort. She twirled the enormous polearm in her hands as casually as a toothpick, scarring the ground and boiling the soil with its edge. "Hand her over, little girl. We just need a little information." a spike emerged from her wrist, a neural implant crackling with electricity. "It's not healthy to disobey your elders." she dashed forward, heading straight for the girl.

Elizabeth didn't look all too torn up at seeing the stone shatter, if anything the smirk on her face suggest that he did what she wanted. "You think I would messing up your haymaker was the only thing that stone can do?" she said as she hoped back, straightening her coat. "If anything you just helped me out getting the stone to unleash it's true power." The shattered pieces of the stone began to emit more sparks.

"Rise and shine feather face. You got a couple of übermensch to kill." she yelled out to the stone fragments. Upon her words a large bolt of lightening would rise before splitting into multiple bolts that would hit randomly back on the ground. Yet one lightening bolt flew around and as it did the color began to take on a dark blue hue.

The plasma began to morph into an avain form and soon plasma made way to feathers as a hawk size avian demon flew around. Elizabeth rose her arm and the bird flew down. The head of the demon had several beaks in a mandible configuration with twin boney spine like horns facing backwards on top of it's head. The bird had three purple feet with black claws and as it's red eyes looked at the Reavers it would stretch out it's wings.
However instead of a fearsome roar or soul rendering shriek what was heard was a loud yawn. The bird would put it's wings back. "Bloody Hell Elizabeth, was it really necessary for your plan to have my container be crushed to dust by some assholes kinetoglyhps? I mean I wasn't going to be killed by it but feeling spacetime being bend and twisted like that isn't a pleasant experience." the bird complained.

The witch rolled her eyes. "I wasn't expecting the muscle heads to know magic. I was thinking they resolve must of their issues with punches." she placed one hand on her hip. "But seeing as you are thoroughly pissed you off why not get some pay back on the guys who destroyed your temporary home and bed." the bird began to laugh menacingly. "With pleasure." the bird began to flew off the witches hands and went open.

Once it was at the right altitude the bird would fold it's wings in the air and stretched them out, unleashing bolts of lightening from it's body at the Reavers before it resume flying around. "Come on lab rats, just try and catch me." the bird would taunt as it flew around, sending out bolts of electricity at Reavers

Elizabeth look down at the lycan that threw herself to save her. "Thanks for the save love. A shame I'll never know your name because I owe you one." she took out her cursed knife and revolver. The witch rushed forward and shouting in Sumerian she got one of the tenebraes to emerge as a large panther-like being with enormously muscular forelimbs that give it a bulldog-like build, and red eyes. Its body features glowing lines pulsating faintly whenever it moves.

The panther ran towards another Reaver and as it pounced tentacles with blades would burst out of it's body to strike at the superhuman from all sides. Elizabeth in the mean time was firing Vim enchanted incendiary rounds at the Reaver that Amelia was facing against.

The reaver chasing after Amalie was thrown a bit by Elizabeth's fire. Her suit flared and fizzled brightly as it defended itself against her rounds, the excess vim disrupting her runic lattice. It did nothing to halt her progress, though, walking toward Amalie. The siren shouted "freeze!" at the top of her lungs and briefly, the reaver stopped. It looked like she was walking through syrup, whilst the siren sang. Bullets and explosives rained down upon her back, though they seemed to do nearly nothing against the shielded axemaster. Even if she had plugged her ears, the speaker's will would still have infested her mind. So, instead of directly opposing her orders, the soldier turned around and went after the people trying to defend her. She moved like lightning, clearing row after row of soldier, mowing them down like chaff.

The dog, however, didn't go down so easily. It was a black blur that bore down on her, throwing her to the ground. She let it lock its jaws around her neck, plunging her glaive in its gullet and piercing through the back of its neck. Even then, it did not relent. Long spines dug into her armor, finally shattering her shields. She wrestled with it, throwing it to the ground and delivering a series of thunderous blows to its head and neck. Her fingers went through the bottom of its mouth and tore off it lower jaw whole, using the bone as a tool with which to gouge out its eyes, and spill it brackish blood. An airstrike threw her off the body, drones and lightning bolts hammering her. She covered her face, electric sparks dancing around her suit. She held up her glaive, firing sparkling lances into the air. The bots broke down with one shot each, half turning to molten slag. The thunderbird was a little harder to deal with, being immune to electricity and all. So, she jumped from the earth to grab it from the sky, bringing it down and slamming it into the dirt.

John was making nearly no headway. As the first one to engage, he was also the most encumbered. The third arrival came to his aid, a young man, more commonly known as Alex, flying in the air and shooting a mixture of missiles and bolts as quickly as his eyes could acquire targets. Dozens fell before him, mages casting hexes and shields to redirect his assault. A fourth reaver dispelled the whole fabricated barrier. Rachel had far less armor than any of her compatriots. The extra bells and whistles that the axe wielding behemoth Chandra was clad in only served to limit her arcane capabilities. Her arms were covered in lines of ink and blood, subdermal circuitry whining as she blasted the crowd with all manner of attacks. Singularities that only targeted brain tissue, purple light that induced necrosis in those that it shone upon, portals that ejected objects from the "dimension of furniture travelling at really high speeds", just about every single spell in the world was at her disposal. She headed straight for Elizabeth, knowing that she was their best option for dealing with mages.

Madi got up very slowly, swaying a bit, then shook her head.
She couldn't afford to be like this, there was a battle going on, her allies were in danger.
Someone in the air, someone with an axe, someone fighting with their fists, someone with magic.

The Ghoul ran towards the magic one and launched off the ground with a powerful kick of her hooves and legs, claws outstretched, muzzle/mouth open with a roar.
Sure, Madi couldn't use magic at the moment, so she would make do with what she had.

The mage wasn't having any of it. She lifted her hand and Madi went soaring up and up, until she hit the ceiling. The sky was fake as a painting, built by a reality bender to give the illusion of a sky. The roof cracked and finally Madi went through, flying into a deep and empty void. Gravity pulled her back down, as did the invisible hand of the reaver. She hit the ground hard, but still she continued. The air was knocked out of her chest, the grass was parted beneath her, yet she got back up and ran with a chestful of broken ribs and limbs about as strong as jelly. The air in front of the magician burst and a deluge of acid emerged from the bowels of some ancient devouring god, purple slime eating away the ground and steaming with caustic fumes.

Madi was very, very, very confused.
And currently covered in melting acid.
Her body was regenerating, that much was certain, and eventually the acid was gone.

The creature realized that she was very much afraid of the mage before her, but she still needed to try to get the mage out of the way.
So, the Ghoul bared her teeth and darted towards the magic user, then, at the last second, darted to the side and then came back for a side swipe.

The thunderbird was surprisingly still alive despite being thrown to the ground. "Fucking metahumans. This is why I hate their cheap ass kind." the bird complained as he began to rise up from the dirt. With the Reavers distracted the bird began to walk away until he began to flap his wings and fly off. The shadowy cat dispersed into smoke and traveled back to Elizabeth's shadow.

As Elizabeth saw the superpowered sorceress heading towards her the witch gulped. "Luckily I have this little guy saved up." She took out purple magatama and like the stone she began to chant to awaken the familiar within it. Once she was done she threw the magatama in the air and the jewelry released a bright flash.

As the light died down a cat size raven with three legs wearing the purple magatama floated in front of her. Elizabeth knew that this one had the power to deflect and even redirect magical based attacks . The only problem she has is the woman getting close to the raven as it was a fragile creature. A simple punch might actually kill it.

With no other choice the witch took out the same staff that Kyle once used to destroy the wall to show off, conjuring it from a ring that acted similar to the same amulet her mother uses to store weapons. She chanted the same magic words to active it's destructive powers as she pointed the staff at the Reaver.

The first avian familiar look at Tom. "Oi faker! There is only one fly boy in this world and it sure as hell ain't you." the bird unleashed bolts of electricity at Tom along with electrified feather projectiles.

With the bird gone and the rest of the 'team' in one place, it seemed that the opportunity to coalesce had arrived. John ran through an entire line of ghouls, brushing them aside as they tried to clamber upon him. Chandra glided through combat with a few dozen human mutants, clawed hands and teeth spilling on the ground, with not a single drop of blood following. Her glaive burnt like a star, shining with a blinding white light every time it made contact with a target. They both targeted Amalie, heading straight for the siren as she revived Lana, the commander slowly rising to her feet. AEGIS and the Scourge mobilized, surrounding them in rings of defense. Even then, they couldn't hold off the reavers forever. Penelope threw herself back into combat, skidding beneath the army and rising to meet Rachel's axe, her own sword being nearly the only weapon impervious to its thermal properties. A forest of vines and thorns burst up around John, Prince Etrir slamming into him full force. The two buckled, trading blows. The reaver drew blades from each of his arms, striking with surgical precision, whilst the prince animated hundreds of vines to his aid. The sound of their combat was less like that of a sword fight, and more like pennies falling into a jar. It was furious enough that bullets which passed between them were cut to pieces, a noticeable wind emerging from the duel.

Rachel was by far the most targeted, possibly due to the relative threat she posed to the whole army. Her attacks were sweeping, and nearly impossible to resist. She felt a subtle tingle in her chest right before Elizabeth's wand took effect, rapidly chewing through the hundreds of layers of warding she'd cast upon herself. The spell wasn't just physically destructive, it was almost infused with a ridiculous amount of arcane energy. It had spent centuries sitting unused in a cabinet, and so had absorbed more than enough vim to crush even the most powerful of shields. In turn, the reaver cast an explosive spell inside her body. It was a dangerous process; too much force and she'd erupt into giblets. Too little, and she'd be compressed into a marble. She had to consciously tweak it, like trying to balance on a tight rope. Or more accurately, trying to balance three basketballs and a semitrailer on a needle. Madi's collision with her disrupted the process, causing the now destabilised singularity spell to manifest. Madison's claws found little purchase on her suit, and a purplish hole opened up behind both of them, where Elizabeth had originally cast the spell. Rachel grabbed the ground with one hand and hardened the soil with her other, creating a handhold as tough as diamond and with the mass of a small building. The ghoul was swept away by the gravitational pull, feeling an irresistible force trying to press her into a ball. The singularity dispelled before any real damage was done, but the experience was still very, very painful. A fireball hit her in the chest, a followup from the mage intended to keep the ghoul down while she bypassed the witch's familiar.

Tom swooped beneath the barrage of electric feathers, circling around the flying bird. Bullets and flak whizzed in the air around him, the occasional explosion throwing him off course. At this point, the danger that a bullet would change his trajectory was a more realistic prospect in his mind than a bullet actually hurting him. His suit was one of the most defensive forms out there, second only to Chandra's behemoth system. He was, however, the largest of the reavers with his wings on. He protected his body with his wings, simultaneously launching missiles from his shoulders that flew up past his defences, then locked onto their target. It was an advantage of not needing line of sight, he supposed. His weapons did the aiming for themselves. Half a dozen rockets tracked down the bird, loaded with antimatter hydrogen. While the bird was presumably distracted trying not to die, he swept down to fold his limbs over Rachel, keeping the deluge of firepower from mashing the vulnerable mage into a pulp. She worked quickly, drawing a sigil while her companion covered her. Moments later, the ground burst open, a maw gobbling up the earth and regurgitating thousands of insects. Some, though, were larger than others. Truck-sized centipedes and spiders as large as men crawled out, grabbing those nearby and throwing them into the pit.
A great swarm of locusts, wasps and other such nasties flew out, a continuous stream of stingers and angry hornets. Shells and missiles burst within the swarm, killing tens of thousands at a time, yet seemingly doing nothing to stem the tide. They swept through the air, dispersing naiads and flensing the skin from men. A group of soldiers started firing into another swarm, one of glittering butterflies, but a man laid his hand upon their rifles, telling them to stand down. The Fates had arrived. Mary rode upon her booterfly megaorgy, the two raging clouds meeting in the middle; one an ocean of black and yellow, the other a golden glow. Billions of corpses fell from the sky, littering the whole battlefield with dead insects, most torn to shreds or mangled beyond recognition.
"Ahoy, motherf-... ah, whatever. You probably don't even get the reference."

The bird saw the missiles heading towards him. "Fuck my life. Of course the crazy witch makes me fight the jackasses with cheap tactics, toys, and spells." the bird began to channel his powers and he would find the muscles of his body increase along with his brain. The increased strength, endurance, and stamina done to his body also effected his brain. Not only was he faster but he was seeing the coming missiles in slow motion, giving him enough time to plan on how to dodge the missiles.

The bird would begin to miraculously dodge the missiles while launching several orbs of lightening to destroy a few missiles before they got close to him, a few fly off to try to hit Tom. The orbs would be magnetically drawn to him once they reach a certain range. Yet that was all the bird can do as most of it's power was used to try and evade the missiles.

Elizabeth saw that her staff did not instantly destroy the Reaver as hoped, yet she still sensed that it was doing great damage to something. As the flying member was coming to aid the mage Elizabeth was ready to pull out another trump card when the ground erupted and strange things emerged. She would quickly see who was the cause as Mary made her presence known. "I was wondering when you guys will show up."
The witch would soon see the corpses of the dead not devoured by ghouls rising from the hole. She would see a portal open and Remy walking through her. "Sorry for being late but we were working over some final preparations on our end." the man told the witch. Elizabeth rolled her eyes as she took out a broken shard of a blade. "So long as you idiots follow through your end of the deal I will let your tardiness slide." she would cut her thumb and smear blood on the blade while chanting.She would raise the blade up and a dark glow emerged as black smoke bellow out of the blade.
The entity was composed of a dark substance that acted like charcoal smoke and dust. The being formed a vaguely humanoid body, long and thin limbs stretching out from the beings body. It's lo g snd skinny neck ended on a spherical head that had a massive red glowing eye and two axe blades in the side if it's head. From the ends of its arms were long double edge blades acting as claws and on its elbows a piece of square shape steel with the upper points elongated to resemble incredibly thin blades; the blades traveling up from the forearms only reach halfway to it while those on the opposite side went close to reaching the shoulder.

The chest of the creature was bulky, almost like it wore armor. From the back twin upside scythe blades were visible and seem to originate from back shoulders. Yet it's waist was as thin as it's arms, legs, and neck. It's hips was was also covered in an armor if sort but it was shorter. From the thin legs the feet ended in points but the elbows had curved spikes jetting out of them.

The demonic guardian that was in Ashwood manor floated behind Elizabeth. "Ravage them." she ordered as the demon flew off, claws ready, at the closet Reaver to it.

Some force was pulling her backwards. The Ghoul flailed her disfigured body, trying to escape whatever was pulling her backwards. Then the force was gone and the creature fell to the ground.
However, that was the least of her problems, for countless massive wasps and spiders had appeared. They weren’t attacking her, weren’t bothering her at all, so Madi focused on Rachel again and lunged towards her.

A meadow. The one full of flowers, the one full of memories. Jacquelyn sat upon a rock, fingers wrapped around its smooth blue surface. Andarta stood opposite her, limbs dangling and dripping pitch-colored wax. "Her body isn't really here." the statement was met with a nod. This place was as disingenuous as her legacy. Some enclave, built to simulate an easier time. "Why are you still fighting?" it's not as easy a question to answer as one might assume. In Jacquelyn's case? It was obvious. Self preservation. Her flesh was needed for the plan. Nobody else had used her skin as a weapon yet, so clearly, a vast amount of energy was needed. Those were the thoughts than ran in Jack's mind. They were clear, methodical, like ice melting in a glass. "I can't let you..." she wasn't looking good. Was that a limp on her left? Was her stoic, unfazed facade finally gone? She held her arms loose, kept her head down. "They deserve better..."

"Andarta, let me be clear. I don't have a personal stake in this. I exist," she put a hand on her chest, "for me. So when I ask you why you care about them, you know I'm legitimately confused." "No, you're-" she took a step forward, her grass withering at her feet. "You're trying to hurt me. Kyle did that, too. Won't... fall for it." Jacquelyn slid off Amalie's headstone, pinching the corner of the rock and splitting it into pieces. She could only get a beleaguered blink from the woman. "That's a fake. Her body's in that mansion, which I-" the firebrand drifted toward her, leaving a wake of singed green blades behind her. "I'm not trying to break you down. I don't want to, because I won't fight you." she took the pendant around the witch's neck, the little black orb which she'd carried all that time. "Take me back to the beginning, Claudia. I know you don't keep a god in here."
They each wrapped a hand around the stone, and felt the past pulling them in.



It was always the same. A desert train, travelling down an arid tunnel. Streams of light filtering through the barred windows, a dozen crates of whiskey laying under her head. She pushed herself away from her mattress, scrubbing grit and coarse sand from her eyes. It was routine. She knew what to do. She walked to the back of the carriage where a short pistol lay. She considered blowing her brains out then, as she always did. How many times had this happened? A hundred, a thousand? If she changed something now, would that choice solidify itself in all future iterations? Did she dare deviate from this path? Nah. Why bother trying to fix things? The cycle she had now was stable. It was understandable, and calm.
She pushed aside the first door, and she was a girl again. In the mansion, waiting for the loop to kick into effect. But, while the world was still loading in, she took a moment to examine the room. It was draped in red velvet, some patches of red darker than others. It was cliche, and honestly quite trite. Two staircases at one end of the hall, merging into one and moving down toward the lane in the centre of the antechamber, leading to a set of double oak doors. Everything was lined with wood paneling which transitioned into white plaster further up, a gentle cream dome hanging above her head and dangling a chandelier just above her, golden spears dancing with reflected light. The smell of dust and lavender was like this subtle backdrop, almost unnoticeable in her mind. The soft shuffling sound that her feet made on the carpet, the coarseness of the laden air... it was almost nostalgic. The feelings associated with it, though, were not as pleasant.

A loud knock. She would've jumped, a long time ago. Perhaps during the first five or six times this had happened. She walked toward the entrance to her private hell, the imagined stench of iron pervading her nose. The knocking grew a little more insistent. Her hand shook as it grasped one of the brass knockers, an instinct she couldn't seem to rid herself of. Claudia pulled the great gate open, and peered outside. A lock of red hair and green-blue eyes greeted her, the smile of a girl evident amongst the backdrop of stars. Amalie pulled her out by the wrist, paying no mind to the creak of the ancient hinges. Every full moon, they would sneak out. Claudia looked forward to every occurrence with this eminent giddiness that she'd long since learned to hide, for fear that her parents would decide she wasn't suffering enough. These pockets of calm, these windows into a world beyond velvet and stone... they were her only solace from what seemed to be an eternal reality of fire, and disgust.

Pause it there. Who was that girl?
"My friend." "You don't seem happy to see her." "I'm not." the city was wide, and more expansive that Claudia could understand. Was there no ceiling? Were there no walls? How could all of this exist without the mansion, where the greatest purpose in the world could be divined? The more she saw, the more she tasted - the frappes and the coffee - the more she understood that what she'd been told was all that there could ever be was truly but a minute mote of what the universe contained. Like an ant crawling out of its nest, she could only follow the trails left by those before her, and the guides with her. Never to forge her own path, too afraid to do so.
That wasn't to say that being a follower wasn't fun, though.



Tom hadn't been counting on the missiles, the butterflies, the demon, or any of the rough shit that'd just happened. He'd been counting on Hanna having a plan. And had a plan she did, riding in on a wave of corpses, animated by the blood in their veins. She was a sanguimancer, and one of the more feared ones at that. If she'd gone the way of Kim and left The Corps, she might've been strong enough to usurp one of the Order's chiefs. Her first response to the axe-handed demon was: "the larger they are, the more likely they are to have required a massive amount of magic to summon. Ergo, the mage should be weak." not cliche, but... not much better than the cliche, either.
She and Chandra both headed for the large entity. The latter leapt up and threw her spear through its chest, landing upon the handle and pulling it downward through its torso. Hanna threw bloody projectiles, pinning it down before dispersing Mary's flock, the infested blood of all the insects that Rachel had summoned enveloping the golden butterflies defending the coalition. The mangy cat targeted the mage, who converted herself and her shield into smoke, reappearing in the air to continue their barrage upon the bird. They needed to focus fire down their primary targets, rather than being divided.



Madi happened to target the flyboy, who also happened to be a bit more than just a cheap trickmaster. As he reappeared above her, he drew his rifle and unloaded into her, machine-gunning the ground with a torrent of plasma.

Gunshot wounds. Funny how she recovered so quickly.
Madi shook off the bullets and launched herself into the air with a powerful kick of her hind legs/hooves, claws outstretched, reaching for the flying person

More and more, the battle was turning against strategy and toward rough-and-tumble melee. Billions of dead bugs lay on the ground, locusts and cicadas mixed in amongst botflies and maggots. Huge worms ate through the mound, pulling men into the cavaverous pile and adding their bodies to the collection. Rachel crawled out from beneath her winged cover and intercepted the axe wielding demon. She filled it full of arcane holes, whispering words at a pace unmatched by regular men, and twisting her fingers into all sorts of evolving, fantastic configurations. More arms were summoned to her side, extending from apertures in the air and morphing themselves into kinetoglyphic engines, constantly adding more fuel to the magical fire. A cone of space three hundred feet long, and just as wide at its terminal point, disappeared with a pop.

Air rushed in to fill the gap, slamming shut the vacuum doors with the force of a hurricane. The mage continued to fire into the empty space however, as the demon emerged from an impossibly small gap in irreality. Tom capitalized on the sudden current, catching the gale on his wings and looping back to slam into Madi, planting both heels into her chest. He drew a knife as he landed, spinning around to deliver a crushing blow to her head. The speared smoke, meanwhile, targeted Chandra, mere feet away from Amalie. Her fingers were wrapped around an invisible protective bar, pushing through the siren's chanted instructions to stay away. Before the smoke hit, however, she folded her axe into her forearm and summoned a great barrier, deflecting the attack. She spoke into her transceiver, demanding some kind of action.

A sanguimancer, Hanna, came sliding in on a puddle. She used the corpses around her like ammunition, throwing gigantic piles of dead bugs and men at her enemies, clearing a path straight to Elizabeth. Mary intercepted, blinding her with light reflected off the backs of a thousand butterflies. She landed next to the witch, wreathed in gold. "So, looks like you're the biggest threat. I don't mean to tell you what to do, but, those summons have been doing good work so far."

Madi was stabbed in the side of her head and her chest felt as if it had been kicked in, but the injured Ghoul reached for the flying person's wings, grabbed one, started to tear it away from the man's body, and grabbed the man's throat with her other clawed hand.
The creature felt her wounds healing very slowly, but not fast enough.

She snarled with annoyance and shook her head, then locked her yellow slitted eyes with the Reaver and grinned a sadistic grin.
A moment passed, then Madi closed her fist around the man's throat, and squeezed....

As Tom tried to dodged the electrical feather projectiles and lightening bolts he would see the bird was making quick and sudden "leaps" to avoid the missiles if not out right destroying them with sparks. "What's wrong Tomcat, afraid of the little birdie blasting you off the sky?" The bird stretched it's wings up and ball lightening formed around it. The bird flapped them close together and spun his body as the orbs spun and flew towards Tom.

As the bird was going down he would flap open his wings and be surrounded by an sphere of electrical energy as bolts came down to the ground to strike at random opponents. Elizabeth saw the lightening bolts coming down as she heard the bird laughing like a manic. As Mary intercepted an attempted attack on her the smaller corvid moved close and in front of her to deflect a curse sent at her. The dark mass that was the curse spun around the field that the raven projected until it faded.

When Mary landed next to her and told the witch that she was a major threat she turn her gaze away from the shadowy big cat who erupted into a mass of spikes and the demon who was launching out blades from it's hands like it was a minigun. "Thanks. I had to look through a many pages in a evocation compendium to find the right beings to make a pack with." Elizabeth heard the bird shouting how it wish it had fingers so he can flip the Reavers the bird. "Though I was not counting on Loki's personality. Probably should have seen it coming when I saw what name he picked." She mention as the bird resume on his chase on Tom.

The witch looked over at Yatagarasu, her magic shield of a summon. This wasn't the first time she had summon the bird and she knew that it had another unique ability besides acting as a force field for magic, but if she used that power she would risk the bird being injured and with it's fragile frame she couldn't afford to lose it right now.

Yet when she saw that Madi was having trouble with a Reaver she almost ordered the bird to use it's second special ability but the ghoul showed her that she was much stronger now and continue to fight against the Reaver despite her injury. Instead she order her demon to focus on Chandra and her shadow cat to focus on Hanna while ordering Yatagarasu to keep on eye on sanguimancer to intercept and deflect any spells she would send at her.

Elizabeth took out a spellnote. She looked on the coarse piece of paper as she debated with herself on whether to burn the note and call upon the allies the note would bring forth. Can her old friend be strong enough to deal with the Reavers or is she summoning to their deaths? As she thought on whether to summon her fifth familiars she looked at Hanna and took out her revolver. She fired several bullets that when they hit their target would deliver an electrical shock.

The flying man had not been expecting Madison's apparent recovery. Come to think of it, she should've died at least half a dozen times by now. The thing was clinging to life, slowly getting used to its body. Apparently, the ghoul was an emergent threat. That was reason enough to engage. So, when it pulled him from the air and locked its hands around his neck, he held his breath and used one of his two free arms to draw a pistol and fire into its throat. He had no opportunity to finish it off, however. He tapped the torn off wing on the ground and let it melt back into his suit before rolling to the side, while electric feathers strafed his position. "Actually, I'm afraid of the dark. The genemods kinda fucked up my brain." he slipped a long rifle off his back, gleaming blue and white. First, he fired into the coalition. They'd been pelting Chandra and John with projectiles for the most part, and had been milling about trying to deal with the reavers in their midst. The AEGIS grunts and Scourge underlings were almost negligible in the face of the 'big guns'. Frankly, he hadn't even noticed the man shooting him in the back, point blank. He loosed a perfectly aimed barrage into their lines, each blast punching through dozens of metres of flesh and armor before coming to a halt. He took down maybe fifty, sixty, in the two seconds before they cast a shield and retaliated. Rachel, formerly occupying the bladed demon, slid in front of him and deflected a stellar beam, a group of cult-modified humans channeling a god forced upon them. Tom turned around to snipe the demon's scythes from the air, though that didn't last long.
Chandra was in the absolute thick of it. She and John had the coalition's attention, and they were doing their damndest to bring them down. She sliced through the smoke, using her barrier as a weapon: forming bubbles to contain and evade her amorphous opponent. It departed, however, to be replaced by the hulking form of the axe wielding creature from earlier. Dozens of mages, soldiers and mutants surrounded her, forming a closed line of blades, guns and gas. She held up her glaive, and let it melt into her suit. There was a total calm. Like a swirling eddy, her opponents inched closer, and closer, tightening the circle. She relaxed her shoulders and let go of her jaw. Then, boom. Her fist appeared inside the chest of a soldier, smoking with friction heat. Bang. A mage's head was gone. She kept snapping into position, moving at breakneck speed. She caught the demon's blade with her hands, the clang and shockwave throwing those around her away. Her feet sunk into the ground, but she continued to push back. She leapt into the air and delivered a dozen, two dozen, a hundred kicks and strikes to its head, using the jets on the back of her suit to push her back in every time she landed a hit. She let herself fall before delivering one final blow to its chest, throwing the thing back a good fifty metres, falling upon an AEGIS truck and squashing it flat. She landed, cracked her knuckles, and went in for the kill.

Hanna was facing a little too much at once for comfort. Thankfully, dealing with that sort of thing was her specialty. Beads of blood trickled out of her nose, and slowly wormed their way through the air. They leisurely drilled into Yatagarasu's barrier, applying pressure enough to crush steel into pulp. A spear of insect fluid lanced across the battlefield faster than a bullet, striking from behind and above. Again, the shield held. She clenched her fist, and threw it forward, showering Elizabeth and her guardian with hundreds of tons of dead bugs. Mary's flock arrived, slicing through the hail and forming a steep ledge of dismembered locusts and wasps. The sanguimancer parted the tide, as if pulling apart a piece of fabric, in time to see the end of Elizabeth's gun. Five shots burrowed their way into her heart, blasting through her spine and lungs. Shards of ribcage found their way into all her organs, spilling bile and blood into the same wound. She stumbled, and began to tremble. Yellow, red, blue, green, all shades of sanguinous fluid, trickled through the mud to reach her. The blood spilled on the battlefield entered her wound, and it began to heal. Whole sections of flesh were recreated, bloated sacs forming inside her body and bursting into vibrant, living tissue. Skin grew over the injury, like vellum being slid over dried meat. She let go of her breath, hand on her chest, covered in all sorts of colors. Yet, she was alive and alarmingly uninjured.
Hanna reached out and pulled back with her hand, a force pulling Elizabeth and Mary toward her. A forest of spears, like a wooden palisade, formed in front of her: a field of spines built of blood. The familiar shone, trying to keep her influence from reaching her two opponents, but she continued to pull. She had to break through eventually. That, or do it the hard way. Either one was on the table at this point

She couldn't breathe. Couldn't hear. She was lying on her back, staring up at the sky, her throat more or less destroyed.
Madi's mind was blank for once, she dimly realized that she was thrashing around, trying to scream from how much pain she was in but for the moment, she was completely mute.
And somehow not dead.
The Ghoul felt various parts of her body 'burning' from the gun's residue, but those wounds were healing already. Slowly. but surely.
Her throat on the other hand....Not so much.

Then the pain was gone.
Her hearing was slowly returning, but her ears were currently bleeding, but they were being healed.
Madi didn't know if she could get up and walk around, so she stayed where she was, very well aware that someone could just walk up to her and kill her at any moment.

How long had it been? Not even five minutes?
And how was she not dead?
Madi didn't want to dwell on that, what she needed to do was get up and keep fighting, but yet, she was suddenly tired.
The creature tried to stay awake, but eventually the Ghoul's head moved to one side and everything faded away to nothing.

As Chandra's final blow came down the demon felt an intense burning sensation coming from its chest that began to spread throughout its body. Just as the final blow was close to making contact the demon would suddenly erupt into ebony flames and quickly block the attack.

The demon began to pull Chandra away as the flames began to die down, leaving only burning cracked patches on its body and its blades glowing from the fire and heat on them. All demons are burn from the Black Sun and as such carry small fragments of its power within their being. Some demons can unleash that power in a moment of emergency but they can not stay in this form for to long as the flames would eventually be extinguished and while the remaining embers would keep them going they would ne roo weak to defend themselves until the embers reignite themselves.

The demon would finally throw Chandra away from it and conjure several phantom blades set on fire around its self, the blades spinning around the demon. The blades vanished and reappear around Chandra as they spun, waiting for the right moment to stab the Reaver. The demon summon more flaming phantom swords and fired them at incredible speeds at her.

When Elizabeth saw that Hanna can heal from her bullets the witch cursed and was going to put away her gun when she was suddenly being pulled towards Hanna with Mary. The witch saw the forest of spears emerging and knew that if nothing was done she and Mary were dead.

The witch can see with her sight that the spears were all magical constructs, if she can dispel the magic holding them together she and madam butterfly will be safe. Elizabeth knew that targetting the constructs alone won't be enough, she needs to get the conjurer to loose her control over it.

Elizabeth had one idea on how to do so but wish she didn't have to take such a gamble. "Yatagarasu! Dive towards the blacken heart of my enemy!" The witch demanded. The small raven caw as it flew up in the air. When the Raven look down it would descend down at incredible speeds, a Sonic boom being heard as the sound barrier was destroyed by the miniature creature.

As the bird reached to the spears the anti magic field that it projected caused the spears to dissolve as the magic that held their shape was removed, ashen blood hit the bird before the blades can ever do. The bird broke through the forest and its beak would plunge itself into Hanna's chest. The bird would begin to claw at her and it would use it's own magic to set her limbs on fire.

Loki looked down at the situation with Elizabeth and deciding that his summoners continual survival was more important than taking out Tom it would being down lightening bolts at Hanna. The shadowy panther turn into a trail of smoke and flew towards Chandra. When the panther reformed it was running towards her and when it pounced it transform into a large scythe blade that was swung down at her back.

Chandra. Not prepared, nor equipped to handle this. Rapid fire thoughts. Breathe, blink. Blade one, closest. Velocity... faster than her shield could handle. So, the axe was the only useful tool in this circumstance. She swung, and intercepted it. Momentum carried her arm through, intersecting with the trajectories of another four. Good. That left only... fifty seven others? Her eyes flashed between them, finding their paths through the air. Only forty nine were actually going to hit her. Of those, a mere thirteen were targeting vital organs. She moved her body in tiny, almost imperceptible ways, aligning her innards and armor to deflect as many of the shots as possible. So, only four projectiles remained which would definitely kill her. She allowed time to speed up, and felt the whole barrage coming down upon her. They sliced through her shins and arms, breaking against the padding on her torso. A spike plunged into her visor head on, the tip just barely scraping the edge of her eye. She caught the first deadly shot, its jagged edges abrading her gloves until she could feel it through the torn fabric. She stumbled, more of the missiles puncturing her body armor, and worming their way into her skin.

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Demincia
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Posts: 2326
Founded: Jul 08, 2010
Democratic Socialists

Spitz can fuck off though

Postby Demincia » Fri May 10, 2019 1:01 pm

She caught another dangerous shard, mere inches from her heart. The third, she allowed to hit her. It sank deep into her neck, but slipped past each of her arteries without doing any damage. She couldn't breathe, couldn't talk, but reavers needed no air. The sensation of breathlessness was only a genetically hardwired distraction. One that the scientists neglected to remove, in case their implants failed. The last one was going right for her heart, and each of her hands were tied. The whole sequence of events took just under a tenth of a second, and simply put, she couldn't move fast enough to save herself. At least, not completely. She pulled her left arm as hard as she could toward the wicked blade, letting it slide through her greaves, and between the bones of her arm. It was too wide to slip between them, and so its motion was arrested, at the cost of splitting her limb in half, as if struck with an axe.

The demon let out a low moan, like wind across sandswept plains. Its limbs were surrounded by shattered air and tortured skies, a great red aura emanating from this burning pyre of malice. Ouroboros, growing wider yet shorter as it consumed its own tail. A vast cleaving blade swept across the earth, like a plane of sharp gliding over a flat sea. She leapt above the swipe, somersaulting and pressing her head right against her shoulder, a keratinous death grazing the edge of her skull, shearing off a fragment of her helm. It pulled out many of the spikes still stuck in her body, too, which was nice. She landed on the flat blade and gripped the shard in her visor with both hands, tearing it out, and revealing her eyes. They were amber brown, with a hint of grey, and if you shone a light on them in a dark room, you might even see the reflection of circuitry within. The demon launched its fist at her, which was met in turn by her own. Though its hand was as large as a car, and its belching breath was as close and noxious as sewerage under a drain, she pushed back and heaved, grabbing one of its fingers and ripping it from its limb. She slung one of the shards in her body at the monster's chest, a blast of crimson fire erupting as it made instantaneous impact. It raised its other arm, and brought down its fist. She caught it and was thrown to the ground, the bones of her thigh punching through her kneecaps as she knelt on the hard surface below. If it had been soil, she would have been propelled through. The bones in her arms were compressed and forced down into her elbows. They snapped under the pressure, clattering on the floor as her limbs were reduced to one-segmented joints, keeping a lingering death above her head. Her ribs gave way next, her spine breaking in two dozen places, the vertebrae forced through the gristle on her back.

This was it. Their first loss after Kim. The first reaver to die in this war. They had all agreed to follow Andarta, decades ago. They'd come together after seeing the atrocities of the 20th century; the ones perpetrated by humans with choices. They'd witnessed terrible choices being made, not acts. For in their time, the century during which they were supposed to serve, they had always been told to commit the lesser evil. The Second World War, the American and Soviet experiments, the very existence of GLADIUS... they had shattered their collective belief in humanity, and the supposedly glorious legacy of the GGC. She reassured herself one last time that sacrifice was the price paid for victory before her body ran out of adrenaline, and she was reduced to inconsequential pulp.

"No!" John scrambled onto the scene, accosted by the prince. Tom and Rachel followed, each approaching the great demon. The panther, removed of its purpose, realigned its sights on new prey. Vines grew up all about them, tumbling over one another as they built mounds from which trees and roots burst, like thorned bombs. The mage's suit melted and moved across her arm, pooling at the wrist until it formed a peculiar little contraption. Four mechanical hands that terminated in needles hung above a little plate of black sand, held in place with magnetic force. The little pins scrawled intricate patterns across its surface, forming a little occult sigil. A little thing became a rather big thing. A massive torrent of fire, clutched within a spinning gust of wind, sprang out of her palm and flowed across the battlefield, filled with torn down buildings and scrapped vehicles. The light and heat were intense enough to melt concrete, rapidly reducing their surroundings to slag. John rapidly mired through the molten earth, even as the dense fluid sank up to his knees. He cupped a ball of molten stone in his hand and lobbed it at the prince, deprived of weapons. It glanced off his blade, but droplets splattered across his skin. Tom swooped through the air, taking advantage of Elizabeths' summons' relative uncertainty at how to approach the newly marooned reavers, battering the smoking panther with his wings, and keeping it from leaping across. Rachel targeted the whole world in general, a purple scar opening up above her head, random bursts of intense telekinetic force pulling buildings, cars and people into the torn cavity.

Hundreds of gunmen lined up at the edge of the glowing lake, pouring a dizzying amount of lead downrange. Their bullets were caught by something, floating upward and drifting, until there was a cloud of expended ammunition hanging above Rachel, spinning like a flock of birds. Rounds began to fire back, hundreds of twisted metal scraps being pulled from the ball to fuel a constant ablative beam, easily tearing through the remaining few huts around them. The roads it passed over were pulled up and shattered, while the vehicles it struck were reduced to nonfunctional shrapnel - to say nothing of the people. Indeed, they realised the futility of their actions, and attempted to flee. Whilst they had served admirably as distractions thus far, other battles (and desires to survive) called. At five equidistant points in the crowd, new contenders arrived, bursting through the lines, with lines of the dead left behind.

The prince and John, previously rather equal combatants, were suddenly rendered quite unequal by the fact that Etrir, the ruler of Whisperwood, was dead. A man stood behind him, an orange arc stuck through the royal's chest in twenty five places. He pulled his blade out, allowing the perforated cadaver to fall flat upon the pavement. "Lalna, you son of a bitch. I thought you were supposed to be fast." the man, whose every motion left sparkling trails behind, laughed. His age, ethnicity, all features, remained indeterminate. These new combatants did not bother showing their faces. "God damn. Can't believe you had trouble with that guy." the elder soldier sighed. "I'm not good with kids. The lad was hardly even a baby by the standards of a Pam." "What, like... Pamela?" "Nah. The alien race. Thought you learned about this in school?"

"Hey, guys. Were you talking about me?" a flock of jets screamed overhead, strafing the retreating AEGIS crowds with machine gun fire and missiles. Counterballistic projectiles and flak prevented much damage from being done, but their lines were scattered. Nothing remained of the mighty coalition's cohesion. They were all running, now. Pamela, speak of the devil, stepped off a levitating steel platform, golden inlays shining as they held the vehicle in the air. She was surrounded by floating weapons and sensors, each one constantly checking its surroundings, and acquiring new information. Her mind was by far the most impressive of them, considering how much information she was having to take in. She clicked her fingers and a rocket fell from the sky, erupting into further smaller bomblets, exploding in magnesium-fueled novas. The whole world was blinded, save for those who lived to fight in the light.

"Chandra's dead." John said it without missing a beat. "We've got summoners, and severe Crimmie casualties." he leaned into his earpiece; "Hanna, you got a bead on the target?" "Not quite!" she barked, bracing herself against a massive blast of gold and legs. Mary stood in front of Elizabeth, holding a hand out in front of her. A cone of nothing but pure butterflies surrounded them, blocking the sun and isolating them from the rest of the world. The cone itself acted like a drill, encompassing and pressing down upon the sanguimancer, trying to maintain the integrity of her body through sheer force of will. The swarm dispersed all of a sudden, billions of autonomous razors going in different directions, and revealing that Mary's commands had led them to drill a hole in the ground almost fifty metres long, and as deep as two men. Hanna floated at one end of the berth, holding herself up in the air through control over her own blood. Mary bled from the nose, pressing a handkerchief against her upper lip. "This isn't looking so great, eh?" More arrivals joined the team of nine at the centre of the battlefield. A man on a grappling hook, and a woman whose arms were entirely exposed, revealing blackened claws in place of fingers, glistening with tarlike fat and deposits of slime. An older man stood amongst them, radiating some aura of control, and wreathing himself in waving, purple ribbons of air.
There was the one with wings, and an eye of an eagle. There was the roughshod commander, experienced in all things on earth. A mage stood with them too, filled to bursting with arcane knowledge and power. They had a man who could walk through walls, be anywhere, and run faster than sound. A creature of fluid, impermanent and flowing. They had a girl who could summon any weapon or machine of war, who breathed smoke and drank sulfur. There was a corrupted avatar, something that reality couldn't bear to coexist with. There was a mind rending thing, with an awareness that seemed so pervasive, that it remained inescapable beyond death. Not among them was a sanguimancer, facing off against a bird of some sort. It disappeared from view and reappeared in her chest, beak wrapped around her heart. She grabbed it by the legs and tried to pull it out, but its squirming was too much to resist. It sank entirely into her organs, sliding between her lungs and swallowing segments of her spine wholly. She collapsed, writhing in pain, animating enormous pillars of blood that dug into her body, and filled the hole. She regenerated from the stolen life force of a hundred others, sealing the electric bird inside of her, and trapping it amongst her ribs. It took the place of one of her kidneys, and found itself unable to move, for the prison of flesh around it.

She looked down at her abdomen, where something constantly bulged and squelched, like maggots were trying to eat their way out of her. She spasmed and healed, constantly as chunks of beak and wing poked up through her skin. Yet, despite those injuries, she stood her ground and faced down Elizabeth, taking one step and falling to her knees, propping herself up with her fingertips. "That's enough, for now." the woman with the strange arms stepped in front of the struggling sanguimancer, each of her hands wrapped in a caustic fog. "You just made things personal, Ashwood. I'm going to kill you, for my friend." the woman pulled off her helm, perhaps one of the only objects in existence that could really resist her touch. She revealed a mop of dark hair, and fair skin. Black eyes, with dim white pupils. Like milk amongst black coffee. "Once I'm done with you, who knows? Maybe I'll join the other forty in their fight. I might meet my progenitor model, that way." she strode toward the witch, each step generating an oppressive silence, and billowing nascent fumes, which didn't seem to dissipate. They hung, like a trail, reminding the universe of where this living depravation had been.

The aberration broke into a light jog, whilst Mary broke from her stupor to retaliate. She swept her hand in an arc, a line of insects creating a thick blade, meant to sheer Felicity's head from her shoulders. The girl rolled under the strike and sprang to her feet, delivering a powerful uppercut to the insect controlling woman, her blow meeting the resistance of a good two hundred golden wings. She melted part way through, rusted(???) gold flakes spilling over her fist. She kicked the Fate, hard, and sent her sprawling, despite the efforts of her minions to catch her as she fell. Then, she made straight for Elizabeth, sprinting and leaping across the asphalt, hand held behind her like a claw, ready to reach out and pluck the witch's head from her neck.

Devils, however, remained in play. Tom and Pam, the two technological marvels of the group - one a flying man with the most advanced flight system ever devised on his shoulders, the other a weapon-summoning genius capable of rivalling whole nations' military infrastructures - flew toward the bladed creature, skidding to a halt some hundreds of feet away. The woman struck first, forcing a bristling nest of iron spines from the ground, almost a hundred weapons of various makes - from naval cannons to surface-to-air ordnance - discharging at once. She rolled up one sleeve and drew a blade over the back of her arm, a swarm of hundreds of drones, mounted with guns, bursting from the wound. Like flies upon carrion, they swirled around the beast and pelted it with fire, each one as large as a dog and as heavy as a car. Tom, meanwhile, stayed close to his companion and folded his wings back. He wasn't only an aerial fighter, after all. His nanites weren't what made up his suit, either. They were merely fabricators, harvesting nitrogen from the air and breaking it down into hydrogen. From there, through a series of fusion reactions, they built up elements. He allowed them to construct shield projectors, concrete barriers, guns, automated turrets and more. The air grew noticeably hotter from their thermal emissions, though most of that energy was recycled to further fuel the bots' functions. He ducked behind a concrete wall, an array of technological protections separating him, his friend and the beast. He could only hope that steel could make up for a lack of antidemonics. That was Rachel's forte, after all.

Speaking of the mage, she was then in the middle of facing down Loki, the thunderbird. It had quickly disengaged, once Hanna had been incapacitated. Now, it faced her mid-air. She hovered well above the ground, the scribe on her wrist building complex magic arrays, and breaking them back down. As the fight progressed, she understood more and more of the world around her, as did the two other intel specs of the team; Horace and Pam. "Little bird, I've seen a lot of your kind." she glanced down at her device like a watch, waiting for something. "In a few years, you're going to be extinct. Nobody's going to remember how to create or summon you, or anything like you." she twisted a dial, a weedy red light flickering in the reflection of her eye. "I should know. I killed the last one." the mage slung a handful of crackling marbles at the supposed god of lightning (though that should really have been Thor, otherwise the name wouldn't make any sense). The objects emitted a low drone, each at different pitches so that when heard together, they sounded like a dog making a quiet, aggressive snarl. The orbs dispersed, flying around Loki rather than at it.

Then, with one presumptuous, contemplative word; "mark", every pair drew a line between themselves, and filled that space with fire. There were ten marbles in total, each one possessing the ability to instantly obliterate anything that was between it and its partner. And, in this case, said thing happened to be the bird. It had been smart though, and not waited for her to attack. Things were soon to change, though, as the orbs shifted, and mixed among each other, making it near impossible to track where, when and from which direction they would strike. "This was a pretty popular hunting technique back in the day. Get two of these things, put 'em on either side of your target - maybe a few miles at best - and fire both at the same time. It really worked wonders in the jungle, though, we hardly saw any of those in my day."

The creature of smoke, The Panther, for want of a better name, was not left unchallenged. Without Chandra to target, its gaze had fallen upon two other contenders. A fresh faced young man stretching his calves, and a more straight looking man with clothes that fluttered in a rhythmic, hypnotic pattern despite the wind. Lalna and Koch. The speedster and the waterman, respectively. "I dunno whether you can talk." Lalna began. "Are you one of the boring demons, or one of the interesting ones? 'Cuz honestly, it'd be pretty dope if we could, y'know... talk a little? Have a bit of banter while I'm killing you, that's all." his partner sighed; despite having spent almost two centuries with the cocky sprinter, the straight laced fluidthing still cringed at nearly everything he said. "You've been watching too many movies, #45." he straightened himself out, falling into a sprinter's pose. "Yeah. I know. People have died, and I am not leaving that unpunished." he disappeared, flashing into existence behind the smokey thing and delivering an earth shattering blow to its chest. The thing burst apart, disparate chunks flying in all directions and leaving deep gouges in the earth. All that it did to its attacker, however, was leave a few scars in his armor. He unclenched his fist, examining the crater which his punch had created, as well as the panther; it was sitting on the edge of the hole, looking downward with inscrutable intent. "Damn. Guess the thing's not so easy to disperse." "Are you leaving it to me to clean up your mess? That's classy."

Koch flowed like animated mercury, striking impossibly fast and wrapping around the smoke monster, holding it in while Lalna threw himself at the two entangled amorphous entities, jamming the barrel of his gun through the top of Koch's liquid cell and firing indiscriminately. The straight laced one hadn't formed a floor - that was just common sense - and so, the only negative outcome here was if the panther couldn't be killed by such intense discharge. It'd take some serious heat or dispersion forces to break his friend apart. Hopefully, Ashwood's summons didn't possess such properties. It was a risky move, but a necessary one to contain the threat. Such creatures often relied on suffocation tactics and avoidance strategies; they were almost impossible to counter conventionally. With the abilities of the two present reavers, it might just be possible to save some god damn lives.

John and Amalie, meanwhile, pursued their primary target. The others, the 'prime threats' so to speak, were merely distractions. By cutting the head off the serpent, they could cripple all future operations if the Crimsonites made it out of this alive. Though, to be honest, he didn't care much for the cults. He'd spent centuries hating them for what they represented, and he resented them even now for what they could cause. After all, there really wasn't a distinction between these people and the weird fetish worshippers in Canada, besides the fact that Andarta was actually doing something pragmatic with her followers' faith, rather than cashing in on it for easy validation. All he wanted was to prevent the Final Nights. That was the whole idea behind the Arawn Corps, and the reason they no longer called themselves ARFAU-4. 'Armed Reconnaissance and Force Application Unit'. A legend amongst the upper echelons of the future government; meant to symbolize unity, and produce a 'superman effect'. They'd been propaganda pieces their whole lives, taking on only the prestigious jobs rather than the ones that needed doing. He was through with AEGIS, through with being a symbol. He wanted to serve and save. If that meant giving up his ability to inspire, then so be it. Their future needed heroes who weren't cultivated sociopaths, after all.

Horace shielded John's mind from Amalie's commands while he broke down Penelope's defense, throwing her to the ground and delivering a punch that should've blown her mandible to chunks. Instead, it bounced off a blade, robbed of all momentum. Her sword sucked the energy from everything it touched, reducing bullets to ping pong balls, and explosions to sparks. When it had achieved that property, he didn't know. Neither did he care, actually, since it wouldn't have mattered either way. He grabbed it the next time she swung, and pulled it out of her hand, tossing it to his psionic shielder. The psi operative in question caught the weapon and shifted his angle of approach. The siren was entirely immune to his psionic attacks, and she simultaneously served as a buffer against them. They were both nullifying one another, which was... a nuisance, to say the least.

"Why are you still fighting? You were pressed into this battle." John's question rang in his own ears. Penelope wiped the blood from her face, mud caking her every spot of fabric and skin. "I may have been forced to be a part of this, but I'm here now. Why do anything less than my best?" she threw herself at him, meeting a fist on her way there. Though her reflexes were quick, and her footwork solid, she found that it glanced the side of her head nonetheless, ripping up the skin around her cheek and clipping her ear. She stumbled, gasping, whilst Amalie whirled around, directing a massive mental lance in his direction, forcing him to take a few steps backward. The effort shook her, a trickle of whitish blood leaking from her nose. Amalie picked up a soldier's knife, holding the the weapon with the blade away from her thumb, as if she were going to plunge it into a block of cork. "Besides. This isn't a fight anybody can just walk away from."

"I don't understand one thing, though." he could've thrown a feint. Instead, he went all in with a single swing. The hit shattered Penelope's blade, quite nearly fracturing her wrist. She stumbled back, screaming and holding her hands over her face, covered in metal shards. "People who fight to protect something, they universally believe that their one life can save at least one other. If they thought that their contributions meant truly nothing, they would not choose to be a part of the battle." he gripped her by the head, twisting it sideways. She tucked her legs up against her chest, spinning to keep her neck properly aligned, before plunging the broken knife tip into his wrist. It bounced off, like a fork against leather. "You're so small, though. Your presence here hardly affects the equation." four rockets of some design came spinning right at him, forcing him to drop his quarry. She slammed her skull against a rock, drawing in thin breaths and trying to stem the bleeding from her face. Lana stood behind Amalie, a rocket launcher in hand. She stepped forward, proclaiming; "somebody's gotta be the point-one in the math. Sometimes, a small sum's all you need to swing from left of zero to right."

"Lana. I remember you," John began. "You were one of the commanders we learned about in class." he smirked, raising his arm, and allowing a long blade to extend from his greaves. Lana tried to load another set of missiles, but found her arms too heavy to raise. Horace stood a distance behind his superior, a purple mist gathered amongst his fingertips. "Do you know how colossal of a failure you are? Remembered as the commander who threw away lives, and the director who worked with cults rather than solving problems on her own." he spat, striding up to Amalie, whose eyes were stained with blood. She was killing herself, trying to hold back the psionic's influence. "I never heard about her pet siren. Then again, why would I? They died out twenty two years ago, from where I'm standing." he threw his arm forward; "get away from her!" his hand stopped, but his arm kept going. His arm from the wrist down was cut clean off, an ichor stained blade held in its place. He looked to his side, looking into prince Etrir's eyes, before a wall of vines sprang forth from the path, separating the two.

The prince knelt over Penelope's body, scraping flesh from his cheeks with the nail of his thumb, and applying it gently to her forehead. He was shining, like a night filled with fireflies. "Did you know I was hiding you?" the siren asked. "I wasn't paying attention. I was only hoping to save your life, Amalie." Lana stumbled toward them, movements sluggish and eyes blinking of their own accord. Some of Horace's attack lingered in her system. "You're hurt, prince. You too, Amalie. All of you... you don't have to do this for my sake, you know. What he said? I can't help but agree." her secretary of sorts sighed, giving her a beleaguered glare. "Do you think that I'm going to let my you die? Besides, isn't your authority the only thing keeping AEGIS on the field at all?" the commander shrugged. "Beats me. I haven't done that much leading so far." "Then why don't you start now?" she got the point across. Lana sat down, a dome of plants surrounding them utterly. The reavers would be in soon, though. She had no doubt of that. With her earpiece on and retinas filled with data, she began to coordinate the attack.

Right then, AEGIS was on the run. Their forward troops had found almost no success fighting against the reavers, having been slaughtered in droves by their technologically, magically and genetically superior foes. They were attempting to lend support wherever they could, but there was only so much a few lone gunmen could do. They still hadn't fired their mortars or artillery yet, in fear of hitting their allies. For the most part, The Scourge were maintaining a defensive perimeter, regrouping and martialing their forces. "Are the boys trying to get us out of this? We're alone out here, after all." they confirmed that within the centre of the battlefield, which had been almost entirely levelled by the early melee, there were only reavers and coalition primary combatants. There was no extraction forthcoming, and nobody willing to be the guinea pig.

She took notice then that the light within the dome was fading, as Etrir's blood lost its luster. He knelt next to Penelope, dripping honeylike blood over her skin, and watching as her wounds filled with green fibers, slowly turning the color of pink flesh. His palms were filled with fragments of steel and small clumps of bloodstained mud. It was almost peaceful, or picturesque. "Etrir, are you going to be fine?" "Probably not," he mumbled. "Well, scratch that. Definitely not." he looked up at her, Amalie standing by silently. "This girl. You know her name?" the commander nodded. "Penny. Aelisia." a smile wormed its way across the prince's face, squeezing yet more ichor from the corner of his mouth. "Aelisia. It sounds like a flower's name." he exhaled, shaking his head. "This is actually rather pathetic. I have nobody to think of, even as I'm dying." the prince took one last breath, and fell apart into a pile of wood scraps. Penelope woke, gasping, clutching her face and writhing. The grass around her frayed, growing taller and stiffer, resembling elongated rose thorns. "My god, what a fucking creep! He just... fucking dribbled blood on me! Jesus christ!"

Lana squinted. "Someone just died, Penny." the girl shrugged, spitting clods of dirt out of her mouth. "... shit, really? Where is he?" her eyes fell on the floor, where a bundle of twigs lay, the last embers dying. "Oh. I'm... sorry." though, she followed that by sighing. "Pai, I'm apologizing to a dead tree." she raised herself up, and Amalie just had to raise her hand. "Your eyes. Were they green before?" "... no. What did... what the fuck did the prince do to me?" she took out her phone, and looked into its screen. She saw jade, filtering through her irises, giving off a gentle light. "I'm not sure what to think about this, really," she whispered. "I guess I should be thankful. Hey, did he leave a back door out of this place? It doesn't look like there's a door." the three women flinched as a great hole opened up in the dome, like two hands had pulled it apart. "Wait, I can't control plants now?"

"Not really," John replied, pulling himself through the hole; a hole which actually had been pulled apart by two hands. His hands, to be exact. Well, just one hand. He lost the other. "There's no comeback king to save you now. I'm going to have your precious commander's head!" he threw himself in, and in response, the whole earth seethed. The grass within the container erupted upward, forming a thicket that coiled around the reaver and pulled it down, slamming it against the ground, and coiling around its limbs. The vines twisted John's body in unnatural directions, unable to actually puncture his armor. When his visor was completely overtaken by blood, and there seemed to be no other angles with which Penelope could make his bones crack, she dropped him on the ground, dead as a doorknob. "Jesus Christ. The plants were really eager to get him. I guess they're angry about the prince." At her command the dome parted, unfolding like a peeling fruit. In the centre of it all stood Aelisia, eyes a burning green, and fingers stained by chlorophyll. "Hah. I'm beginning to think the prince wasn't such a bad guy."

"Don't count your lucky stars yet, doll." Horace slashed through the lawnlike jungle, his iron blade coming within an inch of Penelope's neck. He tried to push closer, and found his agency nonexistent. Vaulting back, he looked toward Amalie mid air. "Hey there, l'il lady. Long time since anyone's seen a siren. Been even longer since I saw someone cute as you. Who does your hair, by the way? Looks great." "Aren't you four hundred years old?" she asked. Penelope had a much harsher reaction to his comments. "Excuse me, what? I didn't- I didn't even know reavers could do that!" he twirled his blade, winking. "Oh, that's not the only thing I can 'do', baby." Lana stepped forward, rifle leveled at the psionic's chest. "You'd still be a creep, even if Penelope wasn't eighteen, and Amalie weren't nine." he whistled, giving her a somewhat disturbed glance. "Jeez. Why're you working for AEGIS, kid? Shouldn't you be at school?" Amalie answered; "We grow up fast... is a statement?" she blurted out the last three words, unable to keep them from bursting out.

"Just so you know," Horace remarked. "I'm the only guy on the team who's had sex besides Kim. The only one who admits it, anyway." he swung his blade a couple of times, the edge whistling softly as it passed through the air. His speech was brisk, and his tone a little sharper than before. "John taught me a lotta things, not least of which was to put the mission first." he shifted his stance, glaring right at Lana. "Sometimes, though, putting down the bitch that killed your friend comes first." he dashed across the open field, clashing with Penelope, and lashing out with his mind. Amalie stumbled, Penelope held her ground. Rocks and soil were flung up by the impact, a great shockwave sending the two other participants flying. He pressed right up against the swordswoman, teeth clenched, and eyes flickering momentary to look at John's corpse. "You're going to pay for what you've done today. Maybe when I kill you, your dad will know how it fucking feels."

Eyes, open. Hands, broken. Neck... mostly okay. Madison Goodwill, you are alive. You are alive, you are thinking, and you are meant to be fighting. Get up. Get up, please. Don't... don't die here. You weren't meant to die here. You aren't meant to be a ghoul, you aren't meant to be a monster, but here you are anyway. That's how you've always done things, right? You've just sort of gone with the flow. Marcus, Polly, Miria, Ganon, Link, Amaterasu, those people showed up on your doorstep one day and you let them in. You're adaptable, you're fierce. So get up. Get up!

She couldn't feel anything. Her spine was tingling, it was like this maddening itch that couldn't be scratched no matter how hard she tried. Her arms were filled with sensation, but not a single thing she tried to do went through. She couldn't even control her own breathing, for god's sake. Something was terribly terribly wrong. It just felt so disconnected, and weird, and just... wrong. Why was the world so hell bent on being her enemy? Why couldn't she just have a normal, fucking life? Was it her? Did she keep doing something wrong, over and over, and copping bad shit because of it? Was it because she wasn't strong enough, wasn't good enough to earn her happy ending? Everything she touched, everything she loved, ended. Now, everything felt finite. Even this transformation, which should've been permanent, felt almost... normal to her, in a sense. Like it was just a natural outcome of events, regardless of how much it was going to change her life from now on.

Please, she asked. Just let me go home after this. If the world obliged, then she might even have someplace to settle down. Some nice hobbies, a morning routine, even. Maybe get a job, a real shot at leading a normal life. She wanted to be there, right now. With her aunt, eating buttermilk cookies and reading the newspaper, not knowing there was a world larger than that house. She almost wished she was back with her friends, some of the only people she'd ever come to know, hunting for Czernobog and Ganondorf. That company was something she'd craved, and hadn't even realized she'd wanted. She just wanted... to belong.
Was that too much to ask?

Fucking why? Why didn't she allow herself to let go? She was a monster. A criminal. A terrorist, a scoundrel, a piece, of, shit. Why not let herself act that way, just once? Just this once, she promised. Just this once, so I can come to terms with it all. I just need this one chance. Please, give me this- give me this catharsis.
Her hands moved, and curled up in the dirt. Her eye looked at her fingers, clutching wet soil. She could move, and oh god, she was so strong.

So terrifyingly, gloriously, horrifyingly, wonderfully strong.

As she stood, the world swirled underneath her. Explosions and distant, guttering flames punctuated an overcast skyline. Everything was covered in thin white rainclouds, giving the field this greyish, dull hue. Around her there was nothing but concrete and timber. Felled buildings, ancient and rotten with time's poison. It felt like London, all over again. It felt like a battle, and oh god did she know how to handle herself in one of those. Behind her, there were two men. One, throwing punches at a... smoke thing? Another, flowing like water, his blackened arms moving like animated slime, and trying to pull the gaseous panther into himself. It was... one of Elizabeth's summons. Yeah. Elizabeth. The witch. And the two people it was fighting were reavers, right? The bad guys. One of them had shot her in the neck. One of them had tried to kill her.

"All of you... are, a-... are going, to die!" Lalna gave her this condescending, utterly uninterested look. "Hey, man. Look. It's one of those freaky ghoul things." Koch grunted, trying to keep the magical creature under control. His partner didn't want for him to find the time to respond. "Yeah, I guess I'll deal with it." he flashed forward, moving faster than any man could register. He brought his fist forward, a burning orange scythe mounted above his forearm. At the precise moment when the ghoul should have ended up in two pieces, he instead felt this floaty, weightless sensation. It occurred to him mid flight that he could only see the clouds. To his credit, the reaver landed on his feet, crouching like a prowling cat, and looking at Madison with some level of incredulity. "What the hell?"

She didn't wait for him to respond. She surged forward, like a tide breaking a dam. He moved too, flashing to the side, and returning at speed. The two of them struck each other at once, her claw against his glaive. Sparks flew, and they both ended up standing two dozen feet away, two lines of torn up grass between them, steaming from friction. "Koch, we've got a situation here." the liquid man took notice, simply muttering; "got it", before leashing the panther with his own body, and drawing his rifle. He opened up upon the ghoul, a flurry of plasma bolts singeing the air whilst Lalna charged, preparing his blade to strike at Madi's heart.

Madi didn't speak, she just acted.
The Ghoul grabbed Lalna, raised the man above her head, then threw him forwards across the battlefield into a building.
She then turned on Koch and did the same thing to him, then ran after the two Reavers, reached their location, entered the building, and started to look for Lalna and Koch, her yellow slitted eyes roaming in all directions.

"... wow. I, umm... honestly wasn't expecting that." Lalna pulled himself out of the pit that his body had created, shifting tons of timber and stone as casually as a blanket. "Right, well, time to get down to business." Koch dripped out of the twisted scrap, reshaping himself and sliding between, picking up no detritus and getting caught on no obstacles. He stood above the wreckage, dust and mold falling down all about him. "You have your target. I have mine." the speedster flickered and popped, screaming across the landscape, striking at Madi's shins and shoulders. His partner slithered toward the smoking panther, grasping again the rifle that he'd dropped and firing into its centre.

The creature roared at Lalna, taking the hits without flinching, for her wounds would heal soon enough.
Madi reached towards the Reaver, and threw him again, then ran after him, picked him up where he had landed, then started to try to tear him to pieces.

Her arm didn't land, unfortunately.
"But a scratch? You've no arms!"
Oh, right. No arms.
Madi waited for her hands to grow back, before realising she had legs.
God, look at those... cloven hooves.
Sexy..?
Wait, no.
She has no legs now, either.
On the flip side, her arms are back
Lalna phased through her parried swipes, moving through her body and slashing at her neck from behind.
"You know, I think you should know that reavers are professionals. We know how to take you shits down." Koch sighed, whispering into his radio: "don't give the ghoul any ideas."

Madi was amazed at how fast her body was regenerating.
The Ghoul let her arms be cut off again, waited around five seconds for them to come back, then attempted to punch a clawed hand into Lanla's chest, and rip his heart out.
Her yellow slitted eyes locked onto the man's and all she said - it was almost unintelligible - was "DIE."



Under the bridge, where kelp clung to the rocks and little bits of plastic often bobbed by, two women sat. On one side of the stream lay a dusty, sandswept city. A thick and dhingy place, with smokestacks blotting out the sky and the oppressive light of the sun beating down upon red-tiled awnings. Even further behind lay a fortress, with golden spires stretching into the sky, kept in perfect condition by endless rows of unconscious, unfeeling children. Millions were condensed into this one settlement, where it seemed not so hard to stumble across one of the many Argent experiments that'd been loosed into the world. Like everyone else, Jacquelyn and Kyle had tried to live their lives. But, it seemed that their very existence was something that their creator took exception to. Perhaps he feared they would return, and tear down his bastion's walls.
In truth, Jackie already knew the truth. He had tried to create a protagonist. Through artificial means he had generated all the circumstances necessary for an underdog story. There were tens of thousands of teenagers and adults out in the wilderness, their lives full of tragedy and the claws of their past still clutching onto the frail edges of their coats. Why Sterling had done what he'd done, she didn't quite know; she only knew that now, a generation of superhumans was loose, instilled with nothing but destructive rage, and the skills to commit vast acts of violence. The world was a worse place, now that she'd 'won'. Perhaps she hadn't been what he'd looking for, perhaps she wasn't a true protagonist. It seemed that the universe was now hell bent on fashioning her into something she simply was not.
What about Andarta? The shade of this overhang hadn't ever served as solace from the heat, the rain or her hunters. It had simply been a vain place, where she could watch ducks float by and toss crumbs of bread. It had been her only respite, besides Amalie's occasional interventions. She had never come to terms with her friend's death, she thought. There had been no mourning period, no sad walks along the street. She'd simply waited until the end of that night, and doused her parents' mansion in gas. It had been frighteningly easy, despicably efficient. She wondered even now if that had been a mistake. God, she wished she could have the conviction of her younger self back. Deprived of hate and worn down by the years, Claudia could no longer justify the path she'd taken. But, they were here now. Why turn around, when they were already on victory's doorstep?
"It's funny. I always thought of it as a journey, rather than a war." Andarta waved her hand at the water, its murky surface clarifying into the texture of steel. "I'm done. We still have two more carriages to go." everything snapped back, and Jack was left sitting in the middle of the cart, watching her memory guide opening up another door. "We were hardly in there for a minute. Won't you just show me what happened?" "I only let you in because I wanted to talk some sense into you," she snapped back. "Clearly, you're not in the mood for sentiment, so I'm going to show you something that'll change your fucking mind!" the next room swelled around them, crawling up and down the walls until they were engulfed in a wrapper of sky and charred earth.

From the desert ochre earth sprang life, trees and jungle trunks that reached up and up, creating skyscrapers of gum and bark. Stringy wooden flesh kneaded itself into thick boughs, forming walkways and platforms upon which to stand. Soft, succulent mosses and leaves as thick as elephant's hide seemed to hang from the clouds themselves, a thin green mist filling the air. The sun's dappled rays broke through the canopy, green light straying from its strict path and illuminating all corners of this place, as if engineered to be seen. Ferns and flowers blossomed upon the still exposed dirt, until their many billions of stems formed a floor upon which to stand, thick vines and creepers groping tree trunks and binding the whole entrancing panorama together.

From a hidden green lake, filled to the brim with moss and color, crawled a creature with a bulbous head, and vestigial little limbs. Its eyes were a darkened blue, like the stars of the night, and in its mind was clutched an idea. A motion budded from its soft, delicate paws, and something was set in motion. The forest was soon overtaken by the tiny things, crawling all about and making nests of papery bark and lichen in which they would lay their eggs, fighting day by day to find their next meal or mate. As time marched on some grew weaker, and some grew stronger. They learned to fight and flee over possessions, the dichotomy amongst members of the species changing. Those with longer limbs adopted a lifestyle amongst the trees, using supple tails and claws to hang from branches, and harvest previously only dreamed about fruits. Those with thicker bodies and denser bones preyed on their weaker brethren, choosing their own survival over that of the lesser.

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Demincia
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Posts: 2326
Founded: Jul 08, 2010
Democratic Socialists

I see the light at the end of the tunnel...

Postby Demincia » Fri May 10, 2019 1:03 pm

It took eons for the first of the creatures to discover the gift of knowledge, but it took mere centuries afterward for it to dominate the fragile balance established by the environment. With great wisdom came an unparalleled capacity for magic, possessed only by the most venerable races of the universe. Though it was not nearly among the first, it was by far the most gifted upon the terrestrial earth. Its kind swelled in number, creating paradises from the greenery they found their arcana could twist, creating cities in the shade of fungi, and in the heart of musky caves. They were not man, though. They had no interest in industry, no understanding of fire, and iron. They lived with the understanding that what they had come from, the pool of life that'd given them birth, was volatile. Even as their minds expanded, and they constructed spires with capes of leaf, they remained isolated and secluded. The creatures possessed conservative ambitions, and thus they never traveled beyond their glade.
"That story's bullshit."
"Shut up, Pam."
"No, seriously. AEGIS was reporting attacks back in 1914."
"Don't you mean they will be?"
"No, 'cuz they're gonna be dead by then."
Kim's reticule flickered out, thousands of case files disappearing into the ether, and returning to her network. The Corps' minds and databases contained most, if not all of AEGIS' pre-crisis data, providing them an unprecedented capacity to ignore the rules of recon. Though, as time marched on and the butterfly effect continued to change the world, their historical intel would no doubt lose its veracity. This place, this land of effervescent beauty, was home to a race of violent, neanderthalic creatures. Though it wasn't why they were officially there, most if not all of the team were aware that in three months time, the first of hundreds of expeditions would come out of this place, and wipe five towns off the map. France was a charnel house, but they'd be damned if they allowed a bunch of fucking anomalies to join in the slaughter.

Tom's voice came through the psi-link, far louder than it really should have been. Damn, the guy had strong thoughts. A few of Horace's fantasies sometimes got mingled in with the stream, too, resulting in intrusive sexual images overtaking the team's vision. The defect was annoying, but ultimately negligible. They all understood that the psionics were doing their best. Half their brains had been fried, falling through space and time. "All bio signs marked. West flank in position." "East flank in position." "North flank in position." The last voice was Pamela's own, crouched behind a pile of thick, dew-laden bushes. "South flank in position. Please confirm, we have 283,908 bandits, do you read?" Tom, again. "Copy that, statistic confirmed. This is a total wipeout operation, so keep your perimeter tight."

Subgroup Whiskey-3, four men and women specialized in hitting and breaking enemy lines. The entirety of the southern flank. Pamela, Kim, Koch and Felicity, gestated in 32-PN and graduated in 46. They were almost fifty two now, bordering on the maximum life expectancy of any GGC unit. The idea of the future was at once terrifying, and utterly exciting. For now, though, they were stuck in the present. The crickets chirped, and the moon howled on its lonely sojourn. Pam stared down the sights of a pitch black tube, covered end-to-end in a graphene sheath. Mounted snipers manifested around her, forming out of smoke and taking aim at distant targets. Their objective was a fortress, a vast barricade within which over half of this civilization's guards and mages were contained. Five hundred heat signatures were contained within. That wouldn't be a problem, even for just one of them.

Koch slipped closer, keeping close to the ground. A passerby would hardly remark at his presence; he slipped beneath a cover of autumnal leaves, barely visible beneath a canopy of red and yellow. A careful examination would only conclude that he was a puddle of water, dribbling downhill from some higher source. It wasn't as if he had to hide, though. The supposed wall was really just a massive facade of bark and amber, built with loam bricks and filled to the brim with artifacts and wealth. Nobody expected an incursion, because nobody thought any humans could find the place. The forest's enchantments were strong, but rather ineffective against reavers who already knew what they were looking for.
The defensive barricade was nestled in a valley, overlooking a small gully carved out by a long dried up stream. It shone with yellow light, fairies coming and going from its windows, and was hewn out of solid plant flesh. It was twelve storeys tall, and packed with warriors who, if not taken down now, would go on to commit one of the greatest anomalous massacres in the 20th century. Pam tapped her headset, and allowed the signal to go out. All around the cradle in which this civilization lived, her allies rose and charged head first into the fray, an instantaneous strike occurring from every direction. All her drones and rifles fired at once, each having picked a different target, inhabited by pre-programmed sniping AIs. In the blink of an eye, the city's regiments evaporated, a good third of their reserves taken out by one soldier's first move.

Felicity melted the walls, her touch toxic to the idea of naturalistic engineering. She found a room covered in corpses, twenty rows of thirty lying flat, dead. Out the other side then, and into the settlement proper. Her body fell through the other side of the building, and emerged into a world unto itself. A cylinder two miles wide had been carved into the earth, revealing a flat plain utterly drowning in life. Vast waterfalls and rivers snaked about the plain, filling up reservoirs and lakes from which pitcher plants as large skyscrapers drew their fluids, dispersing a nourishing mist that lingered in thick clouds below. This hidden place had buildings of marble and clay, sealed with resin and built like jungle trees, with branches and fronds filled with glittering lights. Alarms blared in the streets, vast wyrms coiling through the skies and root barricades forming on every road. The Eastern flank were already in and doing their work. Buildings which might've pierced the clouds toppled like dominoes, shattering as they broke upon one another, cut down at the trunk.

Felicity fell about two inches before realizing that beyond the fort, there was nothing but a three hundred metre drop. Her pack lit up, twin jets propelling her sideways, visor picking up marked targets all across the city. She headed straight down, toward a congregation of soldiers. Around four hundred: mostly elites, with a few policemen sprinkled in for good measure. They were heading to intercept John. She could certainly allow them to, but she was sure that he wouldn't appreciate the gift. So, she made landfall amongst them, and set to work.
The first was easy. A quick one two, turning its whole body to ash. These troops wielded symbiotes shaped into spears, dribbling poison. She could've dodged the strike coming from behind, but why bother? As soon as it touched her suit it, and its wielder, crumbled. Even the venom in its tip couldn't do any damage; it degraded almost instantly into inert, steaming goo. Her attack was lightning fast, each long-armed swipe delivering death to a dozen men at a time. Her caustic touch was infectious, and it was fast. She turned her enemies to slurry, and that slurry liquefied whatever stepped in it. The city guards would literally fall into the sludge, their limbs melting faster than gravity could pull them down. Any weapon, any spell that landed upon her fell apart. Complex thaumaturgic matrices, built up over years, shattered like overstressed twine at the mere suggestion of her effect. it wasn't just physical, it was a fundamental attack. An unstoppable, decaying plague.
Somewhere else in the city, another kind of disease festered. Not infectious, but rather similar in aesthetic. It was black motile slime, killing not by drowning those around it but by injecting itself into their bodies and expanding, turning them into pulverized balloons. Koch was not constrained by his supposed humanity, nor any other effect. He could seemingly billow in size just by hollowing out his interior, a millimetre of his 'skin' still holding up against the strongest weapons this forest could bring to bear. Their 'air support' was pitiably outmatched. Their birds and worms were being torn down by the thousands, military aviaries emptying their entire contents only to be shot out of the sky. Rows and rows of flak, and dozens of automated jets engaged them in dogfights all around the city, transient weapons courtesy of their resident Pam. Her name was rather unfitting for what her profession was. The title of a nature god did not suit someone whose entire schtick was embodying military hardware.

Elizabeth saw Felicity rushing towards her. The mage took out her ebony knife and a necklace with a jade pendant on it. She was gambling on the reaver not being immune to mental based magic as she brought the pendant close to her and began to chant.

The witch knew that Felicity would eventually catch her if she tried to run away so it would be better if she didn't bother trying to run away from her, at least for now. The witch would recite the chant and when the woman was close enough the woman would let herself lean back to the point to fall on the ground.

Yet for the reaver she would instead see Elizabeth be grabbed by her and no doubt being reduced into a decaying mess, all well the real one rolled to her hands and knees and crawled away from her quickly before getting up and running away to put some space between her and the Reaver.

Elizabeth would put pendant away and take out her spellnote. "Alright fellas. I need your help now. If you all can help me take down this crazy bra I will give you all a mountain of hairbrushes!" she shouted. She would ignite the spellnote and flip it around before letting it go, letting the burning parchment slowly fall to the ground.

However the fire turn a shade of azure and emerald and quickly consumed the paper before it hit the metallic floor. The ashes flew around the witch and trail separate into two. From behind the witch the trails would form a spinning vortex of burnt paper and ash and would increase in speed. The more supernatural inclined individuals in the fight would sense aetheric energy gathering within the vortext
From the vortex spacetime would bend and warp until a small black dot was seen. The dot would expand rapidly until a flat black circle was present. From the black hole rattling sounds can be heard coming through, the chatter of what sounded like an army was also heard.

The witch gave the reaver a grin as the illusion would fade. "You didn't think I would go down that easily?" she told her as the witch's personal army would come through the gates.

Elsewhere in the fight the panther's body dispersed as the round broke through but it quickly reformed. The panther roar in anger at the attack as it began to run after Koch. The panther would dodge more rounds either by dodging or turning into a smokey cloud in mid pounch. The panther was planning on getting close to Koch so it can summon large spikes from it's body to try and impale the reaver.

Loki saw the black hole rifts forming around in the battlefield. "Black holes!? Okay, um, alright that not good at all. That's not good." The bird said as it saw the tears in the fabric of reality. The demon would began to channel more electrical energy in it's body and make a U-turn to try and run away from the rifts that were forming to evade the attacks. "Screw that noise, there is nothing wrong with running away if you reached your limits, and black holes are mines!" the demon yelled out as it continue to fly away.
Yatagarsu kept flapping it's wings and claw at Hanna's insides as the bird tried to escape from the woman. The bird even increased the temperature inside of the blood mage to make the fluids inside of her bubble and boil.

The great demon of blades saw the drones and machine gun fire and it slammed hands on the ground, the very earth erupting as massive blades grew from the ground to block the hail of bullets and missiles. The demonic runes etched on to the metal produced a thaumic coating that increased the durability of the metal to both kinetic energy each missile and round deliver and the thermal energy imparted by the attacks.

Yet the demon knew that the blades had their limits and it wasn't interested in hiding behind such defenses for long anyway.

The single glowing circle that made most think it was some kind of eye began to shine brightly as the demon stretched it's neck high, above the blades and began to release an unseen beam of coherent light and radiation at Pamela. The demon would look up and try to hit Tom with the beam.

As it fired it's beam at the flying speedster the demon would continue to conjure more flaming blades but now the blades would stay close as a flaming devil mask appeared. The masks would vanish and reappear close to Pam, each mask swinging their blades at the woman.

Felicity did indeed fall for Elizabeth's gambit. Her hand lashed out, stripping the uppermost layer of skin from Elizabeth's neck as it narrowly passed by, a deafening shockwave resounding as her fist reached its fullest extension, and snapped in place. Her fingers, shaped like claws, dribbled an ooze that sank into the earth, reducing the moist soil to a stinking, earthy pus. She whirled around, delivering a spinning kick to the dirt just before her target, spraying dirt and gravel up in the air, each little particle carrying the curse that'd taken her arms. They found nothing but bones to fleche, a tommygun jutting from an invisible aperture, and firing straight into her chest. She was thrown back by the impact, stumbling under the fire. She was confused, almost. How was this mundane weapon making her budge, let alone forcing her to step back? Even so, it failed to pierce any part of her, either armor or skin. Any bullet that made is way onto her body simply splattered as if it were a squashed mosquito. She leapt back a good hundred feet in one bound, crouching predatorily, and examining her new challengers.
The god, damn, skeleton mafia.
"Uhh, Tony?"
"Yeah. What?"
"That's... that's the woman. The one who killed me, back when I was alive."
The mobster in front put down his gun, its rounds enchanted with the touch of death. Even that hadn't been able to overcome Felicity's natural defenses. She was a conceptual combatant, no doubt; able to decay anything. Souls, spells, attacks, maybe even ideas. If he was honest, he'd never dealt with those things before. "Bruno, you sure?" they'd all heard his tales. Fifty men taking on one sleeping target, a million bucks for the making if they managed to take her down. Not a single survivor could remember who died first, and what killed them. She was just that good. "Look, I'm... I'm honestly not sure if this is a good idea. You really think-" Tony, the boss, raised his gun, wrapping his hand around a nade on his belt, loaded with distilled unfinished business, and regretful memories. "We protect our own, kid. It's do or die, and I've already tried the latter."
...
"She sells us hairbrushes, man."
Bang, one skull down. Felicity's hand was inside his spine, her touch's effect sending thick veins of black throughout his limbs. The long overdue warrior collapsed into bone dust, and blew away in the wind. Only his skull remained, jaw still clicking: "big mistake, big girl." two dozen mafia goons took positions behind her and to her side, raising sabers and batons. "you know what the dead do, deprived of all sense or risk, right?" the disembodied head cackled maniacally, its jaw bouncing up and down. "they get fucking busy!" a womanly duelist sprang into the center of the ring, thrusting an antique longsword of some design at the reaver. She sidestepped the blow and jammed her elbow into her assailant's head, sending cranial fragments flying. The skeleton didn't go down, though. More and more ran in, each one bringing their own unique style.
Felicity did everything she could to survive, her hands working up a storm. She knelt down and swept the leg, forcing the mafia to leap into the air, giving her just enough room to punch the earth, and send them flying with a shockwave. She had to divide and conquer; relying on brute force here was not an option, considering her foes' sheer durability. Though blades and bullets liquefied at her grip, they seemed to never stop coming. A bandolier of bombs encased her in endless calcite spikes, which she dismantled one by one, taking seconds to cut down a forest. She tore across the landscape, hardly even moving her legs: just a twitch was enough to fling her through the air. She had no intention of keeping her enemies around; she simply had to remove them from the equation. With a single uppercut, she sent one thug's head into the clouds. A skilled shieldsman fancied himself a warrior, swinging at her chest. She spun on her heel, planting her foot in the ground and delivering two jabs quick as lightning, before hopping up, and roundhousing his head hard enough to turn it into a cannonball, throwing up plumes of dirt and rock in the distance.
More bullets, more bombs. This time, they were demonics. Even as claws came out of the earth to drag her into hell, she wrestled with bony attack mutts, putting her hands between their jaws until they were little more than ribcages on legs. Even a swarm of all-consuming locusts did nothing to her. With one touch, she infested the entire swarm, turning the formidable cloud into a corpse machine. more and more, more and god damn more. A hundred skeletal limbs, each one trying to pull her down. She put her hands around someone's head, and squeezed until the damn thing shattered, spraying supersonic debris in every conceivable direction. Keep fighting, don't you remember their sacrifices? You ungrateful bitch, you can't go down like this.
You agreed to serve, you wanted this. Two hundred, five hundred. Do you want to turn your back on them now? John and Chandra are already dead, you selfish cunt. If you can't do this, what can you do? Worthless, always breaking things. You can't feel, you can't even imagine how much other people are losing because you're too buried in your self pity to save them. You can't feel, you can't eat. So what? Did you become a soldier so you could be a civilian? You're the wall, not the city. You're the lampshade, not the bulb. You need to be better than this. One thousand, two thousand. Keep going, keep fighting. It's not over yet. It's not going to end until you let it. Do you understand that? You're a god damn bastion, and if it takes fading to nothing to win this war, then so be it. There will be billions today, and there will be billions tomorrow if you just do, your, job.
An army, facing her down. Endless hordes of skeletons, hounds and men. A rallying call, and a hoarse cry as its response. A thousand voices chanting their dirges, a single whisper announcing its defiance. She threw herself at them, and she carved a wide berth. She parted their lines, breaking their bodies with mere twitches. She was a plague, a disease, an infection. She was destructive, and terrifying, and awesome all at once. One downward strike could force someone's bones into the ground, buried beneath tons of loam. Bullets riddled her, blades cut at her skin, and her arms truly began to bleed. Real, red blood. The most human thing about her. She held onto someone's shoulders until they turned to dust, and then she bit their jaw off, teeth sinking into solid metal as easily as warm butter. Golden butterflies swarmed her. Plagues of frogs, blood and cuts enshrouded her, but she just kept going. Who was she to ever give in to mortal demands, when she'd never paid them heed before? Hunger, thirst, breath held no dominion over her. The touch of skin, the sensation of tulip petals, the smell of the sea were not possessions she'd have. She'd never have death, not until her job was done.
She fell to her knees, for the first time. She tasted blood, for the first time. She locked hands with a behemoth, a brutish leviathan with palms studded in iron, and hips built from titanium. Its mandibles were a shining bronze, its empty sockets were lined with brass. It pressed her down, legs sinking deep into the ground where she knelt. Knives sank into her back, finally leaving scars and dents in her coverings. The sun was blotted out by bones, bleached white limbs and empty eyes. Cold, empty, unfeeling cadavers. "-dreds of our men-"... she was hearing words. She was listening to them talk. Was she really that vain? "-tay down, you bitch-" how she missed the simpler days. How she wanted to be back there, with her friends in a quiet comfort, serving simple men with simple motivations. "-nd for you,-" christ, how she wished that the world could be a little kinder to the people she loved.
Ashes.
Felicity blinked black soot out of her eyes, the taste of rot on her tongue, streams of blood pouring from her sunken cheeks and eyes, lacerations all across her face and arms. Her mouth had been slashed wide open, revealing rows of blanched teeth, the thin membrane connecting her upper and lower jaws reduced to tatters. Her scalp was shredded, her fingers entirely stripped of flesh. Her limbs were just muscle, gristle and bone now. She tried to move her fingers, and saw only half of them would respond. Was her eye working? She closed one, and went blind. Oh. Her right eye, it was... gone. Was her tongue still in her mouth? Great chunks of it had been torn out, and cut off. Her legs were exposed, her armor was barely just lines of metal clinging to her bloodied body now. Rotten bullets and finger bones sloshed around inside her body, seeping between the gaps formed by her organs. And in front of her, stood Hanna, hand outstretched, and surrounded by an aura of red.
The mafia was powder, now. Black rocks mingled with dust, clinging to the grass.
The few that remained, the few that were still arriving, stood still and waited.
Would they fight? She hoped they did. She wasn't done with them yet.
Hanna slowly moved her spare hand away from her torso, where there was a rather large hole in her abdomen. A gaping, empty wound in place of her stomach. Steam rose from the cauterized cavity, burn marks all across her body, her fingers blown off by bursts of steam, and her eyes shriveled like prunes. Yatagarsu lay on the ground behind her, the reaver's intestines wrapped many times around its neck. The empty pit in her chest; it looked like it had been hewn with a rusty saw. That was an apt analogy, actually, considering the copious quantities of gore and blood dribbling from her hands, most of it her own. From here, Felicity could see the tissue of her heart exposed, pumping life throughout her body. They stumbled toward each other, one like a zombie, and the other with a soldier's limp. Elizabeth. Ashwood. The summoner. Killer of Chandra, organizer of this raid. They both had their vendetta set out for them, and they both had their target in sight. The two old friends turned to face the witch, a single Fate standing in front of her, with golden wings fluttering about her wrists.

Felicity stepped forward once. Then again. She broke into a run, and then a confident sprint, each stride bringing her closer, flaps of skin hanging loose from her head. She tore those useless things off, revealing the bones of her cheek and cranium. She didn't need skin, those protrusions would only slow her down. Hanna drew upon what little fresh blood was left on the battlefield, forming long lances above her shoulder, aiming them like missiles, and firing them one by one: each projectile aimed to kill. Mary releasing her whole swarm, blasting the master of decay with a beam of soft metal, pushing her back but not arresting her advance. She held an arm over her eyes, slowly pushing herself forward, each step a labor of pain and disgust. She reached out, ignoring the thin scores that their sharp limbs left in her bones, gouging shallow trenches in her muscles and joints. To kill Ashwood... that was her goal. To keep the future safe, to earn her rest... to keep going.
She roared, and parted the wave, millions of molten insects falling to the ground on either side of her, decaying as they fell until they were just drops of pungent acid, bubbling on the ground.
"I'll kill you," mumbled the reaver. "I'll stop you."

She walked toward the target of her hatred, teeth grit and fingers splayed, struggling to take in breath.
"I'll do it right, this time."
Unintelligible was right.
Lalna really, really misunderstood Madi's statement.
To him, it seemed like she was requesting something. After all, the idea of dying was like... just totally ludicrous, right? He was invincible!
Not quite, it seemed. Her claw knocked the breath out of him, thick talons sinking deep into his chestplate. Well, time to stop playing around, then. Groaning and straining against his attacker's weight, he raised his arm up, and planted it right against her ribs. A small funnel popped out of his gauntlet, and fired a thermite blast into Madi's chest point blank. He leapt to his feet, following it up with half a dozen more shots, spitting globules of fire.
Koch was unworried by the panther's attempts to kill him. Though its spikes did indeed perforate his boy, he was, as usual, entirely liquid. He used the opportunity to wrap around the creature, straining to bind his flesh together, and contain the damn demon. If he could crush it, or at least isolate it from its summoner, he might have a chance of keeping it down. Rachel seemed a bit busy, after all, shutting the rift above Loki and releasing all its contained energy in one monolithic concussive wave, propelling the bird at breakneck speed toward a messy, kinetic death. She twisted invisible dials in the air in front of her, carving circles in reality and building a containment ritual around the improperly named avian, trying to wrest control of it from Elizabeth.
Pamela, meanwhile, found herself fighting a war on an entirely different front than before. As its stream of blades stopped, and it became apparent just how worthless her attacks were in actuality, she became acutely aware of the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. A radioactive beam came from the demon's mouth, powerful enough to flense the flesh from her bones. But, rather than tearing her to atomic shreds, the beam found its way into a hillside somewhere else, erupting in a great cacophony and raining bus-sized chunks of stone on those unfortunate enough to have been standing close, but not quite close enough to have been vaporized by the explosion proper. Tom knelt in front of her, covered in thick black trails of soot, a decrepit shield held above his head. She quickly tapped him on the shoulder and wrapped a flight module around his shoulders, lifting him into the air and well away from the conflict, at least until he recovered. If this demon was playing hardball, then she was too. No point in cowering behind walls, after all. All her other weapons snapped out of existence, their impermanent realities coalescing about her arms, smoke billowing from her palms and forming rings above the tartarean creature, machinery assembling itself out of the haze. If there was any doubt about what she was doing, that confusion was soon discarded, as it became apparent that she'd just builtan assault satellite from scratch. And that weapon, meant to atomize bunkers from orbit, found itself firing upon one poor sod from just three feet away, a blinding blue beam firing downward, tunneling through the earth's crust, cracking the whole battlefield and flinging tectonic magma all about the air, the sun's light overtaken for a good three seconds by an all encompassing radioactive glow.
"Beat that, redskin."



Enormous manta rays drifted through the skies, roving platforms of woven tissue and leaflike membranes. They spawned countless drones from their underbellies, twisted progeny with limbs of shaped timber, and organs more accurately described as veinous sacs. They were tall, almost nine feet each, with limbs that scraped along the ground and left trails of fragrant oil, each dull click from their 'throats' betraying a more malevolent intent. They were fucking fast, and they should've been immune to bullets. Thankfully, not a single reaver used mundane guns. Koch morphed from one to another, wrapping himself around their heads and constricting until they imploded into applecore shaped cylinders of viscera. What could they do to him anyway, with their blades of fucking grass?
Some petty mage tossed a few bombs his way, singularities spaghettifying his form, and stretching it every which way. He pulled himself back together, individual droplets flying back to the main mass, before it decided to stop being a sphere and start being a blade: specifically, a blade through the caster's chest. The Vivant Coalition, as they'd come to be known in the GGC's time (a little in-joke on the part of the department of xenobiology) lacked any basic understanding of physics and chemistry. Their civilization was built off the labors of trial and error, and countless centuries spent refining enchantments for their next of kin. If they were to pluck a hundred of its current inhabitants and send them back in time, before their civilization had even begun, it might take them just as long - if not longer - to get here as their ancestors. They really had made no progress, considering the memories Koch had of this place. He recognised a few faces, even. That royal guard: in 2012, he'd go on to attack three German hikers, and bring an AEGIS expeditionary force into conflict with this place. Well, probably not, since he - and nearly every other pocket of resistance in the city - was dead.

The last of their towers, felled by brutal axes, toppled and smeared its inhabitants across the rooftops of the lower areas. Black disease and blue fire swept rampantly throughout the peaceful little utopia, its fleeing civilians boxed in by their own walls, and the barricades erected by The Corps around their gates; said barricades literally just being The Corps. A psionic held down each quadrant, networking their allies from above and keeping track of concentrations of enemy soldiers. Not that it mattered, anyway. The Coalition's weapons were more like subtle suggestions to cease and desist, rather than demands to stop living right the hell now.

204,507.

Despite having atomized just about every combat ready emplacement in a two mile radius, Kim still found heavy pushback wherever she went. Her suit practically threw her from one side of the crater to the other, compressing thousands of feet into mere seconds of traversal time, so it was even more annoying - or perhaps impressive - that the city guard were still holding out in pockets all around. She'd duck in every now and then, killing a few hundred function-civvies - the ones building barricades and arming themselves - before speeding away. Her role was to weaken and harass, avoiding confrontations with concentrated firepower. Her infiltrator loadout was theoretically built to withstand anything this 1.3 Kardashev scale civ could throw at her, but the point of her mobility was to minimize risk. Surely, these creatures were hardly even sentient. Could they even be called intelligent, when they'd spent so long confining themselves to this tiny fragment of reality? She sped past houses, each one furnished with a bed, table and entertainment. She never saw any shops, merely civil service buildings. There were police stations, workplaces, emergency response units on every street corner, but not an iota of industry. These things had immersed themselves in a utopic ideal, and forgotten what had once been their thesis. Mastery, expansion, and prowess.

Those rays, though. There were hundreds, easily enough to blanket the whole battlefield in shadow. Vast underground hangars and store rooms housed ancient war machines of monolithic proportions, each one grown from a seed blessed by their original progenitors, or a cabal of unusually bright mages since then. Mantis claws burst through the ground, churning up chlorophyll-tiled streets and throwing aside enormous mounds of rubble, creatures the size of skyscrapers pulling themselves from their apparent tombs, and draining the world of life. Behind her visor, Kim was safe, but the same could not be said of the forest around them. Miles and miles around, trees sank into the ground and decayed into brown slag, their strength pulled to fuel the defense of this derelict enclave. Most of its inhabitants were still evacuating, with a few safely stowed away in bunkers. Their heavy hitters would deal with the remnants later. For now, they had a mess to clean up.

Pamela rose high above the swarm, watching the green streets turn black with thorns, endless legions of the forgotten reclaiming their lost world. They were pulling the children to safety, attempting to use them as shields. Well, she wasn't going to be having any of that. Those 'kids' would grow up to slaughter millions. Putting an end to this calamity was not just necessary, but a service to the world at large. Her gaze drifted from target to target, drawing lines with her sight. High in the sky, shimmering cables formed upward of wherever she looked. Those distortions snapped into place as soon as she blinked, forming enormous bands of reddish pigment. As the streams fell they coalesced further, binding to one another and snowballing, creating individual spheres of substance. That soft, velvety texture turned hard, and adopted the sheen of metal; lead, cobalt and brass.

114,939.

It was... peaceful, almost. The way those plumes of smoke and detritus rose, borne on gentle winds. The phantasmal glow of a civilization's ashes, drifting in the wind. Feathers of a bird, slowly falling to the ground. What remained of their mighty empire sank into the earth, as the caverns below each collapsed in turn. Epochs of stagnation were swept away, chaff discarded in place of wheat. Tens of thousands of their weapons must have perished in the carnage; a fairly good number, for the amount of effort invested into their obliteration. The manta rays which had previously plagued the city were deflated, falling slowly while their flesh melted away, shockwaves bouncing and reverberating off the walls of the hidden valley, and delivering organ-shattering blows over and over. Thousands of soldiers emerged from each emptied sac, twisted malformed amalgams of various other lifeforms from the area. Centaurs, fae, naiads, all sorts of strange, and in her time, extinct creatures.

Tom's voice broke through the reverent haze. "We're on schedule, everybody. Be advised, measuring potentially hazardous radioactive activity. Taking in 700,000 coulombs per kilo." "That's not fatal for any of us," Felicity retorted. "If anything, that's good news. The Vivant don't even know what radiation is." all around them, survivors in the rubble were clawing at their own skin, falling apart and sagging, their flesh bonded to the ruins like glue. "Ambient temperature's 1,700 degrees K. I don't think anyone's biggest concern is the rads," Koch pointed out. To the old engineers' credit, though, their creations remained relatively functional, even in the face of such devastating bombardment. Their skin was dry, crackling like paper, and soft to the touch. He couldn't quite believe just how easy it was to break them down. He could use him limbs like whips, smashing and shattering the creatures with ease. He drifted toward a bunker, its vast organic doors leaving many gaps to be exploited. Sliding between the cracks with his voluminous body, the living puddle forced the gates open, a wave of heat and light wreaking havoc amongst its inhabitants. He hardly had to do more than just opening the door.

Grey goo crept over the ruins, breaking down the mineral rich slag and adding it to some small black lump in the middle of the conflict, hovering in the sky with pylons slowly reaching toward the core, building blueish struts upon which a capsule could sit, half-completed cables and hollow segments jutting out from the structure's center. Somewhere in the middle of this hulk, a conversation played out. "Rachel, me and Abel have identified all the necessary materials. We've already dispatched the bots. When will the channeling rings be complete?" "Hush, tomboy. No need to rush. I'll have the ley lines running in two hundred seconds. Have the crucible ready by then, yeah?" "Confirmed. Arawn, Apocalypse in three minutes. Be done by then."

"You're bein' real generous with your time limits here," Felicity smirked. "All esoteric resistance has been quashed. Return to the Crucible, form defensive positions." Already, walls and barriers had formed across the enormous junk heap, the tallest hill housing the device set to end this era of history. Forty eight reavers stood in a ring around it, flanked by dispensers of death. The team techs had really outdone themselves this time. Cannons bristled from makeshift vantage points, awaiting something to target. Insectoids and sentinels rifled through the dirt, clambering out of dusty armories to participate in perhaps the only battle in this kingdom's entire history. Their strong martial traditions, intended to be safeguards against threats disposed of long ago, had done nothing to stay the heavy hand of fate.
Arawn, goddess of death. Arawn, GGC strike team. Both judges, and both executioners. Only, one of them was real.

A truly monolithic army swept across the plains, taking positions just too far away for the reavers to care. Tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, each one worth a dozen of Europe's finest men, clasped their arms and waited. Four dozen, each worth cities, nations, continents, awaited the continuation of their war.
A single line of troops came forward, each a soldier from the fallen settlement. They were marred by burns, bleeding sap, coated in orange resin, which had once filled their veins, and those of their compatriots. A few thousand, offering their lives up in the first charge. Pragmatic, knowing that they were fodder. With spears levelled and magics readied, each one in turn came to terms with what they would give, what they had achieved or not done in life. They gave a rallying cry, and the tide broke. Every foot, every arm, every eye and mind and empty cadaver came in a crushing wave, swarming over the burnt remains of what their home had become. Rounds and blasts stripped them of existence and purpose in equal measure, mutated drones throwing their bodies ahead of the rest to protect their progenitors. The horizon was taken up by lumbering masses of sinew and stem, the first to be torn down. A ravenous vortex of missiles and jets emerged from the defenders' ring, spinning outward and shattering whatever air support the wave had. Their rays and carriers fired clumps of warriors, protected by a film of bile and herbal mucus. Their bodies were shot out of the sky and scoured by flames, the totality of both sides' potentials brought to bear upon the other.

32,551.

Every step was a blow struck in this battle of attrition. Patches of burning earth cauterised and broke up the feet of those who first stampeded across them, only to be smothered and cooled by those after. A seething floor of corpses protected those above, creating mounds and dunes behind which some hid, creating towers from which to fire upon the bastards who were trying to break them, even now. For all their spines and shots, though, they could not break the aegis. Physical attacks were dodged, weaved between, incinerated and rendered moot by magic. Specialized strikes were countered in equally specific measure, complex algorithms and incantations broken up by casual spells and creations of near impossible composition, tailored to the rules of existence until they reached the point of near singularity. Nanite infestations and plagues of mind, body and soul cut the approaching charge down in untold numbers, agonizing radiation permeating every organ and muscle, burning tissue from the inside out and shattering bones long before their owners found themselves in true harm's path.

Range was simply not the reavers' forte. They were meant to operate in closed conditions, taking down enemies who loved to get up close and personal. In essence, they were the monsters' monsters. True to their word, purpose and oath, when the line finally reached them, not a single one skipped a beat. Felicity quite literally waded through them, tearing apart thousands at a time. Her affliction, her ability to break down, kept growing and growing until she stood in a lake of the dead, their mangled corpses bubbling and boiling, joining the acidic nothing. It was sterile and calm, totally odorless and mute. It made no sound, and it did not splash. It was simply existence, breaking down and distilling into its purest form. The first few she killed turned translucent then transparent, as the last chunks of resistant flesh crumbled.

Rot and mold, those were incomplete reactions. Ugly byproducts, stuck in a state of eternal travel, and infinitely far completion. She could finalize the process with just a few moments of contact. What remained was inoffensive, intangible water. Visible only as a shimmer, and lighter than air: lighter than any other substance in the universe. It formed rivers of ethereal substance that flung itself through the skies, up and up until it found the emptiest regions of deep space and decided to settle, perhaps many quintillions of years later. What she made was the final state of all creation. Perfectly distributed, and utterly worthless. Less than atoms, less than gluons, less than strings; simply... fundamental.

Skyfall, as meteors and shrapnel rained from all around. The melee devolved, as all things do. So many bodies, so many numbers. Down, down, down, hostiles: 952,019 in total, going down and down and down. They were invincible, legends of the battlefield. Designed to be the ending, designed to be the answer to that ancient, unasked and supposedly unanswerable question. Who would protect, fight, and kill, so that others need not? Janissaries, legionnaires, militias, armies, they were all fickle. Composed of compromisable agents, and men who worked for either glory or money. Even those who functioned only upon loyalty were fallible. This team, this incarnation of wrath, was not breakable. It was not transient, and it was not mobile. it would be a rock, parting time and space around it, and sheltering those it stood in front of from all harm. Right now, they were simply moving through another jostling flood. They weren't attacking, they were defending themselves.
187 seconds, 878,501 foes to break.

Jonathan had always been a runt. A mishap, given no specialties or gifts. Not as strong, not as fast, not as intelligent. He had been worthless, almost cut out of the pack and fed back to the machine. It was luck that'd given him this opportunity, more than anyone else here. He was not grateful, he was not thankful, he simply was. With purpose came the desire to serve, and with that came the responsibility to act, even when others wouldn't. To stray from the walls and shelters of familiarity, and to immerse oneself in the world. The pioneers he'd heard of in the books - those first men and women who'd stepped through the Janus gates to find a multiverse more vast, more exciting, more terrible than anyone before them had ever known or been able to comprehend, he admired them. He'd read up on every team, every coalition, every alliance. He knew their names off by heart. Caitlin, Hex, Phobos, Deimos. Titles lost in the slow erosion of all that stood mighty, and tall. He wanted to be their foundation, he wanted to build upon what they had laid, while strengthening what had come before. He knew he was not exceptional, and with that came drive. If he did not earn his place amongst these others, what was he but a failure? To live with one's strength, spirit and bravery was logical. To do so with one's weaknesses, disillusionments and insecurities too, was something he thought necessary. Everyone around him was comfortable, powerful, in their element. If he couldn't be like them, so be it. He'd create it, artificially or otherwise.

Arms screaming through the air, heart thumping through his chest, the reaver found himself once again at the front lines, always the first to volunteer, always the first to take command. He remembered every moment of his childhood, clutched them close no matter how much some of his comrades might've wanted to let go. He understood what he was taught not as the truth, but instead the words and thesis of an organization whose origins he hoped to prevent. He lived with their motto, not by it. Those oaths to protect, those torturous trials, he knew that earth was strong enough to endure them, because it already had - but who was he to simply stand by, and allow its people to suffer, simply because he knew they would pull through? So, with every movement and death, he imagined that he was pushing back the clock a little. Not staying its hand, not keeping it down, for he knew better than to think the world's death was anything but inevitable, but just giving everyone else a little more time to enjoy the beauty of reality before it all came tumbling down. One man's finite pain, in exchange for a cosmic moment of solace. A price worth paying, always.

163, 844,919.

Did she understand what this war would cost her? What it would take of her spirit, her time, her legacy? Chandra had wanted nothing more than to be a normal person. Another civilian, able to have a life where not everything revolved around missions, and assets, and death tolls. She wanted what her allies were fighting for, and that thought made her feel incredibly guilty. Nothing about this gave her a sense of finality, nothing she did in service to 'the cause' felt like it meant anything. She'd willingly surrendered a part of herself to form The Brigadier, the avatar of the squad's thoughts. The determination the others felt was like a wall behind her, a moving barrier that kept her from turning tail and running away. Not once had she cut herself off from the network, not once had she dared to give her purpose a second of thought, because she knew that her brain would poke holes in every argument she came up with. She wanted to be here, she was scared of not being, and the thought that her fight was fought because of fear and nothing nobler than that, it was as terrifying as anything else she could shut out. She was made to kill, made to defend. It just seemed pointless, in the end. Fighting off what was coming, staving off death to have another few agonising breaths of air, it felt so perverse to her.

Chandra, of course, always stayed. She couldn't bring herself to think about what she was doing for more than a few seconds at a time because that rabbit hole always led in some form or another to her conclusion. Whenever Horace or another psionic approached her she simply wrapped herself in The Brigadier's influence, hiding her incautious attitude and anxiety behind the mask her entire group wore. They were an identity to supersede her own individuality, a single momentous force which she was to be a part of. There was something worth doing in that, she thought. Being there, with people she knew, and standing along side them against all the stacked odds in the world. Pretending to be a bastion not for the credit or the experience, but instead to inspire. That was what she always justified her actions with. That was her moral, psychological conclusion and dear god, did she ever hate it. Knowing that she was a pretender, a liar beyond anyone else in the team. She needed to talk to someone, she needed to have an experience that wasn't blood, or dependence. But she never let herself because she suspected, and was right to believe, that if she ever found her happy place, she'd never return. A selfish act that the strongest of them, the most determined of them, could not possibly commit.
149, 810,956.
Last edited by Demincia on Fri May 10, 2019 1:07 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Demincia
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Last one for now, promise

Postby Demincia » Fri May 10, 2019 1:05 pm

Rachel. The mage, the builder. An architect of dreams and works; bold, brash, patient, quiet, terrible. An oncoming storm to her enemies, a quiet drinker and the girl with the obsession with caramel chocolates to those who knew her. She had no grand vision, no story to tell, merely an image in her heart. A picture that she'd locked away in her chest to look at over and over and over, hoping to one day recapture. Herself and Horace, standing together under the stars, unseen and unspoken to. A moment of perfect, unmarred by their childhoods of solitude, their adolescences of observation, or their adulthoods plagued by strife. She was grand. Larger than life, invincible to just about everyone who faced her. Seemingly reserved and quiet, but in command of every situation. She'd been made smarter, more enduring, quicker to react, stronger than her compatriots. Maybe their skills were useful in certain situations; hers were never out of demand. She was an engineered fable, a fairy tale character made up by a department of middle aged adulterers and nihilists, supposed to grant a vision for what the ideal human should look like. Daring, calculating, adaptable to every situation. She rarely showed anything of herself off, always choosing to be the back line and the stranger, doing what was least glamorous but most necessary.

She felt nothing, even as she prepared to wipe an entire race off the face of the planet. So many species, each confined to this reserve, the world's advancements unknown to them. They had been preparing for an attack, a declaration of war upon humanity. A final stand and perhaps a triumphant return, sweeping aside the French legions who'd felled their forests and turned them into timber to construct boggy, abandoned trenches. Her mind was always spinning, always trying to tease out a thread by which she could pull herself along to her next goal, and the mission after that. She was the closest thing The Corps had to perfect, and she spent no time at all considering who or what she was, only what she could do, and what she would do. In this case, saving nine million lives, and preemptively preventing the worst breach of secrecy since Elincrad.
123, 782,243

Tom. Oh, what a strange fellow he was. Strict and yet laid back. A flier, yet a walker. A fighter, yet a man who feared the battle as much as anyone else. He was not devoid of instinct, unlike many of the GGC's creations. He was not entirely built from scratch, as the GGC's therapists and psychologists had intended. He'd been contaminated by external thoughts, to an even greater extent than the psionics who stood before him now. He'd been the only one raised to be truly human. Not an imitation like their infiltrators, or a recreation like their officers. Truly capable of thinking as a man would, with all the satirical wit and self deprecatory opinion of someone from the 2000s. It had been a necessary step in giving him his nanites. They were interfaced to their host's nervous system, forming objects based on not just intuition and command, but also mood and memory. The other test subjects had been unable to control it effectively. He, on the other hand, had taken to the device almost instantaneously. The three half dead guards and the rows upon rows of broken down doors would testify to that. Like everyone else he'd been instructed to remain calm and focused during every battle, every confrontation. It was truly difficult now to concentrate on anything, when such an enormous number of fists were headed for his face.

Maybe, his humanity was a weakness. Maybe it had planted the seed for everyone else to start gaining their own sentience. Whatever the case, his intuition gave rise to the only person in the world, besides one very notable historical exception, capable of using what he did today. A symbiote of some kind, originally meant to be the ultimate weapon. A living conglomerate of metal memory tissue, able to adapt and stiffen in any shape. That had proven worthless to him. What had entranced him was the nanites' ability to consume and create more of themselves. He understood that the threat of a grey goo apocalypse was high, but, he took the risk anyway and decided to activate their consumptive functions just a few short decades earlier, pinned down on a battlefield with nowhere to go, and nothing to use. Fearful, but willing to move, no matter where it led him. Now, he was some kind of leader. A person to be regarded as elite, someone to direct one's attention and questions to whenever he was in the room. He didn't care. Not many people had time to, considering their circumstances.

Zany. The smell of oranges. Hanna, the blood mage, sniffing citrus in the middle of the battle. This cocktail of bodies and fluids that she could vaguely control... it seemed that her ability wasn't hampered by heme, or even an absence of cells. She could simply affect whatever people thought of as 'bloodlike'. She truly embodied the idea of not having some weirdly unpoignant and uninteresting backstory or philosophy to imagine, because she honestly didn't care. Who the fuck had an underlying life goal anyway? Do you? Think again, fucker. Y'ain't saving the world. She was god damn pissed, and it... honestly didn't show. Really, all reavers were already at the top of their game. Getting any better would be a long, arduous, and possibly counterintuitive path that frankly none of them were willing to meander down in the vague hope that they could improve in any fundamental way. For now, they were content to read up on magic and relive their combat scenarios a few dozen times a day. She couldn't rip the blood out of someone, unlike a rather overpowered ferrokinetic who shall remain nameless, but she could certainly open her enemies up.

Sharp edges and crushing pistons emerged from every puddle of spilled nectar, tiny cuts becoming gaping wounds as the lively ichor leaking from the gaps pulled itself up and out. A mantid creature nicked its leg on a random stone, and found itself inverted two dozen times before taking another step. She just kept waving her hand, and throwing the bugs to one side. Anger was her forte under threat, a voluntary response to duress. There was no physiological benefit; she needed no adrenaline or foolhardiness. Really, she just wanted to get into the headspace. Everyone else focused on survival above all else. She, on the other hand, had literally nothing to worry about. She made no attempts to avoid her enemies' attacks, and they still failed to bring her down. Christ, it was boring being like that. Invincible, and immortal. Sometimes she wondered if anything could really challenge her; not stomp her or fall like a kite, but really create a scenario where anything could happen. The answer was almost certainly yes; she just had to find it. Not that she wanted to, of course. That'd be a dumb idea.
86, 736,912.

Lalna. Uninteresting, bland, easily the least useful reaver on the team.
85, 733,412.

Koch? He was nothing but ink. Amorphous, with striated fibers dispersed throughout. Stronger than anyone else on the team, and impervious to most weapons. Yet, he acted like the most lethargic, and vulnerable. Perhaps that was up to his relative inhumanity, rendering most of the training he'd gone through moot. More likely, it was because of his abilities that he didn't use them to their fullest extent. Nigh invincibility was the seed of all apathy, and his was a more insidious one than simply not caring. He was hard wired to fight, you see. Anyone who asked him whether he believed in the cause would only ever receive and immediate and unequivocal "yes". Unlike any of the other supposedly self-aware philosophers on the team, he paid no attention to the morality of his actions, nor their consequences. As long as he followed orders, he had something to do. So long as any goal, tangible or not, remained in front of him, he could strive toward it, and follow the programming in his head. Devoid of any other desires, he only knew to do as he was told.

That wasn't to say he was mindless, though. Certainly, the reavers' mental instabilities were exascerbated by time, but his brand of deviance had arisen some time before theirs. Neural elasticity perhaps, or physical damage suffered, resulted in him realizing that the reavers, regardless of what they did and where they went, could not legitimately prevent the end. It had already happened, centuries in the future. All they were doing was splitting off the timeline, creating an offshoot reality where that event never happened. None of the reavers were fighting for their home world, they were fighting for some other place in the hope that they could forget what had come before, and adopt a new planet to protect. He felt the squad through The Brigadier, and they felt an overwhelming shame. They had failed in every regard. As inspirations, as soldiers, as saviors. As time had drawn on and things had gotten bleaker, hopeful smiles and throngs of children had turned to empty streets, and longing parents' faces, hoping to see their children marching behind the vanguard. He pictured their faces, and retained that memory as long as he could, until the image was blown away and returned to his numbed subconscious. Melancholy, intelligent, and too afraid of finding his own path to break free, Koch continued to squirm and struggle, ever wishing for a second chance.
61, 718,013.

Bloodless. She'd already had her moment, right? Felicity, the greatest martial vision the world had ever seen. The last one to be born, the youngest by half a year. Taller than anyone else in the crowd, broader shouldered and more lithe. Agile, physically perfect, completely devoid of all the flaws and strange imeprfections that'd affected her comrades. She was supposed to be an anchor amongst lashed lines, holding everyone down through sheer competence. She was by far the most intelligent on the team in terms of sheer wit and stratagem, or at least she should've been. All that power, however, went into a hunter's instinct that affected every attack she considered, and every blow she received. A warrior without reproach, she remained ever aware that should she fall, the rest of the world should too. That pressure thrust upon her was a burden she was willing to take, because her intuition said many things about the people around her. They were motivated by fear, paralyzed by hate. Trying to reclaim a lost past, or attempting to seek a glorious future. Living before and after, and never in the moment. She knew they all had their doubts, their loyalties, their thresholds, and she also knew that none of them would ever tell each other when they were going to break, because not one of them thought themselves strong enough to live alone.

They had limits, and it fell upon her to make sure they never had to go past them. So, in every circumstance, she took the hardest fight. She picked the biggest opponent, the densest crowd, targeting whatever her lessers could not possibly compete with. Yes, she was small. Not a specialist, not a genius, not a tactician, not a mage, not an anomaly, but she was precisely what she was supposed to be, what she wanted to be. Nothing gave her more purpose, nothing gave her a more solid desire than protecting what she considered the last remnants of her mission. The GGC, AEGIS, anomalies, none of it mattered in the face of the imperfect, more powerful creatures she fought along side. She was prideful, sick, hopeful, grieving. None of them would see the end of the war, but she'd be damned if it wasn't her first.
She had no right to give up.

46, 69,441.

Inconsequential. Pamela was the deadliest fighter in this battle by a wide, wide margin. She could blink and before her eyes had even opened, everything in sight could've disappeared. Discs drifted through the sky, carving chasms through enemy lines, constantly dispersing their structure of approach. She neutralized firepower and emphasized the effect of her own assets, taking primary threats head on and leaving things she wasn't so great against to the rest of the specialized, strategically infallible operator core. She established kill zones in her mind, defined by ridges and points, subjugating hostile maneuvers and retarding attempts to rally their allies. Lifeforms kept blinking off her mask, going from digital dots to unnoticeable clouds of detritus. Her gaze was that of war, possessing a remarkable capacity for violence, and a decidedly unartistic brutalism. She struck universal chords with her creations, each of them seemingly acting as nonspecific armaments but in reality, serving as tailored kill methods for the target in question. She thought of the best way to kill seven hundred thousand of the earth's most dangerous mutations, and executed on those imagined schematics without so much as a moment of hesitation.

22, 675,280.

Horace was, in all likelihood, the most fucked of all the reavers. Both mentally and physically, since he was the only one who felt an unmitigatable lust for flesh. It was a well documented phenomenon in overly sympathetic psionics. They tapped into the underlying consciousness of nature and ended up immersing themselves in the layer which concerned breeding to shit, shitting, and killing shit. Shit shit shit. Man, he needed to take a dump. Sorry, was that a bird? FUCK. Shut up, lizard brain, can't you just focus for one god damn second? No! Stop thinking about bones! What? Fuck off, do not mate with that frog. He waved an invisible hand and swamped about three hundred mindless drones with his own consciousness, subsuming theirs and adding it to his own. The ones who survived turned against their allies, suddenly becoming mere extensions of his will. It was a simple, boring, headache-inducing process.

He lacked any real compunctions about his actions or his history. His mind lived in the moment, leaping from second to second, making few connections and keeping out of touch with the world. He saw, processed, acted and forgot all at the same time, keeping only what seemed relevant to the future. He was well aware that he was impulsive, and uncontrolled. He was still more patient, more subtle than any human ought to be. Yet, he still constantly found himself throwing himself at tasks and goals, motivated by instantaneous emotion rather than logic. At once, he was both repulsed by and secretly proud of that fact. He was the one among them who felt the most, and could be the most lively. The most human, for whatever that was worth.

1, 620,145.

Round and round each reaver went, tearing through the ocean and leaving bloody foam. They turned their enemies' flesh and minds against them, and destroyed what they did not want to own. Ten thousand blows were struck, and the fifty took no injuries in turn. Even their weakest could rout an army, or turn a war. Together, with their weaknesses countered and all roles fulfilled, they were unstoppable. A rolling harvester, scrubbing life from their perfect mural, purging the anomalous from that great and mighty blanket they called the universe. It was humanity's story, not theirs. This war between hidden things redefined a century of clandestine conflict and fear, by turning it to nil.
0, 0.

A single ostentatious crescendo raised itself up, lifting its body above the walls of the crater. A moment arrived and passed, and it did a million years' work, with the meticulous fervor of a master. In one instant, all things vanished and Arawn was left in the wake of the greatest anticlimax in recorded history. The armies they'd faced, the civilization they'd worked to contain, was gone. In its place was a single sliver of light, shimmering above a patch of grass. The crater, the lake, the city, the people, all were gone. They had never existed, and the variables that had made them were undone too. From front to back, they had been wiped from time. A chapter snipped from the fabric of things, the loom seamlessly bringing two halves together.
That page drifted away, its fate unknown. Twenty thousand years of evolution played in a loop, reliving its birth and death forever. Perhaps to burn, perhaps to wander. Or maybe, to find another home.
That wasn't their problem, though.

Each reaver stood up in turn, kneeling in a circle in the center of a forest which was, and always had been in the northern fringes of France, with not a single extraordinary thing within its quiet glades and glassy brooks. It was an utterly stable, perfectly manicured loop of peace. An incorrect piece of the jigsaw, yet one that fit even better. The sky was a vibrant blue and the leaves were a lovely summer green, dripping yellow rays of warmth and carrying not one ounce of weight. No creatures prowled the roads, and no seeds grew within the fruit. No foot-paved trails were laid, and no insects or birds made noise. It was utterly silent, save for the slow breath of each survivor. "Status, all units." a chorus of positives and reports of minor wounds, hardly any more serious than a papercut. Kim swayed on the balls of her feet, the only one of the crowd who could feel dizzy, fall asleep, or enjoy the food she ate. Horace had the emotions and instincts of any living creature, but she had all the functions.

Their electronics were down, as expected. Everyone here was still coming to terms with their sudden shift in perspective, forced into the shoes of normality, at least for the time being. All their paratech, all their abilities, everything that differentiated them from simple brutes, had lost their functions. They were at their most vulnerable then. A rift opened up above a small patch of grass, arranged in a vortex; the precise position where The Crucible had been detonated. Each of the reavers knew that there was a one dimensional, infinitely thin and infinitely long twine that passed through that point, containing all the space they'd torn away. The Earth was a little smaller for their actions, but it was safe. In a few moments that crack would seal itself up, and nobody would ever be able to know what had happened here again, except through the words of the cataclysm's witnesses.
All their tech was down, but this rift worked off nothing but the most basic physical laws. It was a rapid method of escape, in case anyone tried to take advantage of the team's relative disorientation. As flaws in existence began to seep back into this perfect locus, bringing back all the loopholes and broken rules that gave the reavers their strength, they suffered little side effects: momentary anomalous blips, manifesting across their bodies. They seemingly skipped forward and backward in time, glitched from place to place, and couldn't hold any thought in their heads long enough to act. Kim was their chauffeur, much to her chagrin. She set down the return aperture and began guiding her mostly incapacitated team mates into the portal, making sure they left nothing behind. If their technology, or if any of their intelligence fell into the wrong hands, well... you get the gist of it, don't you?

"Kim, the AO is clear. Are you extracting?" something skipped at the corner of her eye. The silence sang, the skies beat down. Nothing rung, only rustled. A world of damp, muffled motion. Dynamic, and never sharp. So, what was that thing she saw? "Negative. Close the rift, and relocate immediately. Maintain my psionic tether." never could be too cautious, after all. At worst, she'd have to finish a long overdue job. There wasn't a single French anomaly on the records that could outrun her in this year. She was safe, and devoid of fear. Unwilling to feel it, not unable like the rest. She was separate from the other reavers' network, in case her emotions got in the way of their mission. She only connected to them during operations of dire importance. This one, perhaps, required her to remain active a little longer. "Confirmed. Horace is your liaison." their codenames, like #24 and #06, were tacky and long. Their real names had fewer syllables, even if they were a little easier to mix up. Clarity was never an issue in their communiques; their minds and mouths were too perfect, too pristine. It might take the vacuum of space to isolate them. They heard every thought, felt every sensation that their fellows did. Her brain was filled with forty nine perspectives, forty nine contiguous lines of memory extending from birth to present, narrowing her vision for a split second. She ran the numbers in her mind, thinking of all the variables. That blur she'd seen earlier had taken but moments to move from one spot of cover to another. It was plausible, if not likely, that it could've repositioned between blinks.

Her eyes, unfettered by the need to moisturize or lacrimate, remained ever constant and vigilant. She attuned her ears to the environment, and her nose to the scent of the wild. She heard thin, irregular breaths and two heartbeats that stank of aldehydes. Not an uncommon scent in a forest like this, but GLVs weren't known to exist in places so peaceful. No insects, no landmarks, nothing to damage the plants. There was a final marker, a whiff she caught, that gave the game away. Cortisol. She moved like lightning, weaving between the trees and following a path that minimized visibility from every direction. It zig-zagged between boughs and trunks, staying in the dark and avoiding the high ground. With just a dozen steps she moved half a mile, staying just under the sound barrier so as to not give herself away. Her deceleration was gradual, and greatly assisted by a silent inertial dampening effect. G-diffusers were magic to her, in the same way that witchcraft was magic to the populace. Mysterious, unreliable and fantastically useful. She was remiss to be using non-proprietary tech, but the benefits it produced were undeniable. Now, enough about tech. She knelt behind a bluff of stones with a thin river curling behind her, gently grasping this small island in its shifting limbs. The water here was fast moving, and sprayed up in the air upon the jagged waterbed. The mist concealed both her scent and image, her position angled to make the most of its refractory properties. The wind coursed across the landscape, lifting thin particles off her back and carrying them away from her prey. Even the sun was to her favor, casting little light on either her or the landscape behind. Silhouettes were still deadly things, for all the emphasis placed on blending in with one's most nearby surroundings.



Elizabeth looked at the ravaged form of Felicity. Patched of skin nearly torn off the bone and metal that hide behind her genetically modified flesh. The woman looked more like a vengeful reverant than an augmented human being. As insects fell around the reaver as she walked towards them the witch looked at Hanna and saw the gruesome state she was in and her summon lying on the ground dead.

"The crazy bitch tore her intensities out and used them to choke my god damn bird! Did I enter the Mortal Kombat universe?" The witch thought as she the body of Yatagarsu began to dissolve into loose feathers and dust, the zombie like blood mage stepping forward to fulfill her vendetta against the witch. "Tony change of plans. You take out the blood mage and leave Mary to deal with Ms. Death." she told the skeleton.

The witch looked at the avian demon as it was blown back from a rift and hit the ground, it's body exploding into a mess of feathers and blood. Yet from the mess a glowing orb with wisps of smokes surrounding it emerged. The witch can feel the witch trying to wrestle control over the bird. "I don't think so bitch." Elizabeth lift her arm up and look as though she was ready to snap her fingers. "Murmur! I command you to unleash your full powers now!" she snapped her fingers. The sphere would glow brightly as sparks would course through the orb. The orb would release an intense flash along with bolts of lightening as the laughter of the bird can be heard. "Hahaha, I was waiting for you to let me cut loose Lizzy. Your gonna regret not killing her sooner labfreaks." Rachel would not see Murmur flying away from the circle as his body was covered in supercharged plasma.

The avian demon was looking down at Rachel as it flapped it's wings. "Let's see how fast you really are." The demon would unleash a large ball of plasma at the reaver. From the bird random bolts of lightening was striking throughout the room as the orb of bright light coming off the bird made it hard for people to see the bird.

The panther let out a roar as it tried to break free from Koch's binds. Just as he attempts to isolate the panther the panther thought of a way to break free. Small blade like teeth would grow from it's body, almost like the scales of a sharks. The teeth would cut into Koch's body the tighter he would squeeze. The neck of the panther would stretch out and the head would go after Koch's head to try and bit into his head, guessing that he can not stretch his head any further and that the man would either perish from a blow to the head or he would let it go so he can evade the attack.

The panther would spring out more thin tendrils that would grow spikes, each one would be used to strike at any limbs that Koch would use to try and strike at the Panther's head . As the panther was focus on trying to kill Koch to break free and Murmur was trying to take out Rachel neither could assist the great demons of blades as a beam of charged particle beam at the demon, atomizing it and the ground.

The demon did not rise from the magma fill hole that Pamela created with her satellite. It would appear that she had won the fight. Yet if one was to feel the ground they can feel it rumbling. The earth would explode outward as a vortex of blades came out and flew towards the woman. From the ground the demon emerged. The "armor" breaking apart and the flames nearly exhausted, the body of the demon was dissolving away into dust as more of it's body was flaking off
The demon knew that it was on bored time but it was going to use whatever energy it had lift to take down Pamela as he deduced that if the reaver was alive she would summon a weapon of mass destruction that would destroy the two mistresses that it servers. The demon began to channeling the remaining energy from it's being and fired another beam at Pamela.

Madi was on fire.
The shock of it hurt more than the pain, but then she was somehow moving forwards, arms/hands/claws outstretched towards Lalna, and then seemed to embrace the Reaver in a hug.
But what she was really doing was trying to set him on fire.
Hopefully it worked.

Even as death approached, nothing seemed to slow. Elizabeth had always thought that she would meet her end at the hands of some vast and ungodly leviathan, oozing brown pus and screaming the words of dead prophets. She assumed that it might be in some lonely field, surrounded by a starless sky and a plane of black, waxy sand. It would be a sombre moment, with few to lament her passing. But this approaching doom was angry, and rapid. Her eyes had no time to take in her surroundings with fastidious specificity, nor did her perception widen until it seemed like this last moment would be scorched into her memory, even after death. Instead things flowed as usual, with a bloodied banshee bearing down upon her with a claw of dripping grunge, and a woman behind her bristling with warm multicolour spines. First, Felicity went for her head. Her palm grew larger and larger in Ashwood’s view until it eclipsed the sun and sky, fingertips aimed for her eyes, meant to reach down through her sockets and tear out the front of her skull. A blue, crackling blur sped past, shedding an ozone smelling mist, and sparks that sent her hair a-crackle. A corvid warble, pitched up into an ear-splitting shriek, punctuated the sundering pulse, a concussive shockwave throwing the witch against a raised concrete pylon and quite nearly tearing the reaver’s arm from her elbow. As the dust settled and her blinded, watering eyes cleared though, she saw Loki in the corrosive grasp of her enemy, long fingers locked around his wings, and burning through his glittering flesh.

“Your familiars are disgustingly inefficient,” Felicity sniped. Nothing remained of her arm's skin and meat, with only tendons and bone remaining. She squeezed the bird, digits sinking into his body like wood knives through clay. Fresh, bloody red bulged out of his mouth as all the organs inside him were squeezed through his throat. He tried to mouthe something at her before his heart came through his beak. The reaver leaned in and snipped his head off with her teeth, spitting out an unrecognisable mess of caustic giblets, letting it stew on the asphalt. “Oh, I know. It must be strange, seeing someone you thought of as an equal, or even a superior, going down so suddenly.” she circled around the witch, picking bits of unnecessary meat from her bones. Her arms had been pitted and corroded before but now they were like lengths of rebar, covered in noxious oils and missing all the stuff upon her skeleton, giving Elizabeth a window with which to look between the bones of her arm. “I have watched civilizations rise and fall. I was there, when the Ottomans took to the desert campaigns, only to break themselves against their enemies. I stood by whilst millions marched upon one another in Siberia, waiting for bombs to flatten their lonely villages.” she flung the bird’s corpse like a slingshot, a shockwave many times greater than a missile’s blast bounded about the cooked city. To say the projectile was supersonic would’ve been a severe, almost criminal understatement. Yet, it still ricocheted off some barrier, flying off in some wayward direction and shattering a hillside, flaying the concrete from the earth. The witch, still dazzled and disoriented by the aftereffects of Loki’s intervention, felt but a dim chill near her heart. She raised herself up, glancing at her wrist where endless bands of red runes glowed. “Your mother still fights your battles for you, I see.” the reaver scowled as she cursed Ashwood’s name, gesturing at her arm.

Elizabeth stood, brushing sand from her nose. Grit sanded her eyes, collecting on her lashes and the ends of her greying hairs. Her eardrums rang and her ribs burned, the skin on her hands turning pale. Magical strings constricted around her elbows and shoulders, twin serpents curling between her fingers and nuzzling black tongues against her palms. They were coarse creatures with aquamarine scales, decorated like stars in the night sky. She was… unaware of what these things were. Their bodies were intricate fractals in which to be lost, but their eyes were a solid ruby red with only the most shallow indentations across them. They seemed to regard her with… familiarity? No, less like that. Protectiveness, perhaps. “Alex is a criminal, and a ghost. She is as empty as promises of eternity.” so, that was why they hadn’t just shot her from a mile away. These things had been serving her for… how long now? But, one was unlike the other. While one of the serpents had ivory fangs and a glossy sheen, the other had an almost imperceptible metallic lustre and no teeth at all. “Life doesn’t last forever. Your mother’s protection is finite, too.” a bloated worm stretched from Felicity’s left, billowing out and snapping at her, each of the snakes raising their heads to meet the flood head on. “That’s enough!” A lustrous aegis slid between them, deflecting the caustic extension in every direction, scorching the buildings behind, and leaving pools of decaying gold all over the city. Mary crouched just ahead of the witch, wiping blood from her lip and clutching her fiery stomach. It was a seething pit of gangrenous flesh, disgusting slimes bubbling and crawling down her abdomen, spitting like a smoker’s lungs as they popped.

She was on her knees, holding up one arm like a legionnaire, her insectoid shield dispersing and gathering behind her, blotting out the sun. They proliferated endlessly, forming conical formations which seemed to bay at her target, throwing themselves against a mental barrier, desiring to satisfy their carnal desires.

“Not errybody’s gotta fight the fight alone, y’know?“ Tony fell in behind them along with his skeletal elites, wielding all manner of strange apparatus. “How d’you think you were born, labrat? You certainly ain’t OG.” He, himself, was the most decorated of any of his warriors. Over many millennia and more he had gathered up all the trinkets available to any denizen of the underworld. His fingertips had been replaced by heavy dragon’s teeth, hewed to fit upon his joints, whose cartilage he’d substituted for Stygian ivory. His femurs were built of compacted soulstone, scraped from the bottomless ravines of Hel. His eyes were painted with eldritch pigments; Avalonian woad, Hyperborean ice and Mictlanian ectoplasm. In his hand was a weapon long left as an ornament, the spear that Hades had used to pierce the flesh of Alcyoneus, striking the third last blow of Gaia’s defeat.

Each man here was a living legend, whose memories might’ve been gone, but whose minds were sharp and shrewd as ever. Perhaps among the ensemble was Achilles himself, or Chu Chulainn, with their identities shed and new titles taken up. Whatever the case, their merits were undoubtable. Mary got up, no longer trembling. Her eyes smoked, irises a brilliant orange. Mephistopheles’ flames seared the rot in her chest, suppressing its expansion. Elizabeth, with Hell, Death and mom at her back, faced down but two reavers. “You’re so melodramatic”, she muttered. Hanna rolled her eyes, planting two fingers in the dirt and raising an army of the dead to fight for her. The remains of Rachel’s bugs coalesced into solid swarms, utterly silent as they bore down like a tidal wave. A scythe of infernal entropy cut them down, turning the whole horde to thin, impotent dust. A single human shadow continued through the haze, whizzing past their defenses and extending a hand toward the troublesome Fate. The limb found brass and steel, bending the tip of a star-forged spear like soap. Tony threw her back and his cabal sprung into a frenzied assault, raining precision strikes all across the reaver’s body.
Blood shards sprung from the road, forcing the warriors’ line to roll back, revealing Felicity in the middle, hunched over and huffing. All around here were disintegrated weapons; lengths of wood and enchanted metal, all severed from their wielders’ grasps. She held a skull in one hand, fingers wrapped around the bottom of some stranger’s head, with the rest of their body dangling from the bottom. Casually, and without even a moment of thought, she crushed it in her fist, letting out a great bang and sifting the dust between her fingers. “Your name… is Remus. Bastard adopted son of Lupa, destined to die so your brother could found his empire.” she drew her rifle from her back, pulling back on the latch. It was a brutish thing, unlike the sleek designs of the others on her team. It had a barrel shaped like a prism and far too many decorations, its end pulsating softly as white wisps escaped its confines. “That… is a name I haven’t heard in a while.” he still kept his mafioso accent up. Tony sighed, slumping one shoulder. “Look, I have no hard feelings about what happened. We were both caught up in the moment, dreaming of big things, what with the talk of Troy and all that. He got a little carried away, that’s all.” she clicked her finger, cracking her neck and leaning her weapon against the back of her shoulders.

“You miss him?”

“I do, even knowing that he dines with Jove, now.” the reaver laughed haughtily, smirking with far too wide a mouth. “Idiot. I burnt down that pitiful god’s fortress myself.” his head snapped up, and none of his companions dared interrupt. He dropped everything of his new identity. His voice, his manners, his confidence. “What are you saying?” she smiled, and cocked her head toward the sky, biting the tip of her tongue. “With nobody to believe in him, that deity of sky, whose dick once populate the world with heroes, fell into destitution. His mighty halls of marble and gold broke down, one by one. When I saw your brother, he begged me to end it, sitting impotently amongst piles and piles of the fallen; the last man standing, after Olympus lost its lustre. Unable to escape, unable to fall asleep. Jupiter? Oh, how that little mote of dust welcomed his end.” he drew a glaive from nowhere, pointing the tip right at her jaw. “You’re lying.” it was a cold statement, with no room to object. She did so, anyway, knowing she was right. “True, but you’re gullible.”

Elizabeth threw herself to Tony’s side, lashing out with the adamantium eel before she even knew what she was supposed to be blocking. Bus-sized pincers closed from either side, materializing from dispersed bloody particulate, closing around the two of them and pressing her against her skeleton partner’s back. With her spare hand she drew the wand from earlier and aimed it at Hanna, still standing some distance away. The singularity formed inside her mouth, instantaneously pressing the center of her head into a pulpy orb. The rest of her body, however, remained intact; visibly buckling as she kept herself from being sucked in. Her sanguine creations dispersed, leaving the mafioso to intercept a series of shots from Felicity, who now snapped between almost two dozen fights at once. The sound of crunching bones and erupting joints filled the air, a row of venerable heroes toppling, all of their spines clutched like bananas in one of the reaver’s hands. She threw them like bolas, the individual vertebrae splitting off and turning white hot from friction, sending a good two hundred ship-piercing projectiles out in a wide cone. A net of butterflies caught the maelstrom, turning their eyes upon the bleeding creature, standing slightly askance, with one hand by her hip and one in front of her chest, face twisted into a manic, jittery smile. “Mephistopheles is next,” she hissed, sinking up to her ankles in the street’s charred remains.

“Once we’re through, I’ll bludgeon that fat bastard to death. I know how to fell princes of Hell. I’ve done it before.” Mary snapped her finger at the image of humanity’s future, a sonorous clack reverberating off the walls before a red dragon’s tail, forged from the light of red giants, struck her. It scoured everything on one side of the reaver, and touched nothing on the other. The soldier’s head snapped to the side, pushed by the blast, which she held back with one shaking hand. The vast beam dispersed, revealing a world of brimstone on one end, and a scorched mess on the other. The concrete burned, leaving hot trails of magmatic stone wherever flames still lingered, blackening the bones of the mafia, but doing nothing to dim their spirits (quite literally, as it turned out). “Is there anything you haven’t done yet, you sad bitch?” the response was supposed to be self evident, really. Her opponent was meant to say something to the effect of “I haven’t died”, and she’d respond with “Well you’re about to”. Things don’t work out that way.

Thin limbs erupted from the recovered Hanna’s reservoirs, laden heavy with heme and dirt. Everything had been bathed in a deep red light, the sun’s rays blotted out by smoke and demonic residue. Further above, the remains of Etrir’s vined dome still stood, hardly able to hold itself up. A length of it, wider than a car and longer than anyone could see, collapsed and embedded itself in the lava like a lash upon flesh, bursting into flames, its vibrant green hue tarnished by the familiar sight of receding, fire-chased tissue. Felicity closed in on Tony, delivering three hundred hammering blows in the blink of an eye. She was faster, stronger, smarter. Perhaps not quite as ancient, but certainly with a greater capacity to learn and remember. Whatever specialisations these revenants had, she could formulate a counter.

Black hands slipped out of folds in space, grasping at her wrists and reeling her into whatever fresh hell they were from. She swept her own limbs through each aperture, closing the gate to Hel as quickly as it was opened. Souls were as easily dispersed as bubbles. Mary threw blasts of flies at her, sending hundreds of feet of gold which travelled past in between the moments when time paid attention to what was going on. Dozens of massive loops rested behind her like rings mounted upon her back, gyrating and jittering slowly as they built themselves up. Molten gold rose from the cauterized sand, bits of fused green glass glittering in the visual noise. Hanna threw herself through the swarm, the shockwave of each impact utterly obliterating its surroundings, flattening not just builds but also shattering her targets into billions of tiny, inconsequential specks. She hovered well above the battlefield now, raising great towers of heme with which to crush her targets. Tentacles and appendages of all shapes and functions swept across the landscape, sweeping the coalition’s retreating rings closer and closer together, allowing her corrosive friend to sow chaos in their midst.

The seeds of death were always planted early. The decay was gradual, lingering, unrelenting. Even the tiniest touch could reduce adamantium to ash, and flense diamond into ribbons. Those still standing found their mobility hampered, their limbs crusting over. What were once well oiled machines of war were now immobile hunks, leaking their innards between cracks and splinters.
Last edited by Demincia on Fri May 10, 2019 1:07 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Nagakawa
Diplomat
 
Posts: 992
Founded: May 01, 2019
Scandinavian Liberal Paradise

Postby Nagakawa » Fri May 10, 2019 6:42 pm

L-Fel
Singapore


As the sun began to set over the jungly skyline, the three gathered along what used to be a shopping aisle on the ground floor of the Marina Bay Sands, standing around and waiting for the broker with whom they were in contact to arrive.

One was the girl in the maroon yukata, her wakizashi and her full-length blade hanging by her side as she nonchalantly rested her hand on the hilts and shifted her weight back and forth between her legs. The other was the sniper, a tall, portly, balding man about 90 years old, a Sako TRG 42 slung across one shoulder and a SAR-21 across his other, a rather incongruous combination with his geriatric-looking getup. The third guy was a young man about thirty years old, wearing a nondescript blue ao dai and carrying a Chinese sabre, holding the scabbard in his hand instead of strapping it to his belt.

Within a short while, there was a sound of rustling further down the aisle, and then a portal burst open, from which came a tall, lanky man dressed in an impeccable bespoke suit that most likely cost upwards of a thousand US dollars. He carried in his hand a large metal briefcase, padlocked and wrapped in plastic wire.

The tall sniper smiled.

"Bertrand Easton Dempsey", he greeted. "Been a long, long time. You've gotten real old."

"I could say the same of you", Dempsey replied with a cheeky, youthful grin. "Henry Saladass."

Image


The young man in the ao dai smirked.

"Let me see it" said Henry.

Dempsey squatted down, placed the suitcase on the ground, and then proceeded to untie the wires and open the padlock, before opening the case in an almost reverential fashion. Inside was a spiral-bound book about 500 pages thick, protected by a thick layer of bubble wrap on each side. Pulling on a pair of gloves, Henry squatted down (with some amount of effort, given his age), unfolded the bubble wrap, and lifted the book up to see the cover.

Image
UNIVERSITY OF GERISSIAN
Department of Biochemistry



On the Artificial Conversion of Homo Sapiens to Homo Pallidius
and the Reversal of Said Conversion


Lam Jih-yeung
MBBS BSc


A thesis submitted for the degree of
Doctorate of Biomedical Science
16 December 2019


"The last surviving copy, no less", Dempsey continued, lighting a cigarette and taking a long, deep puff. "Dr Lam had all other copies of his PhD thesis destroyed just before he died. He also ordered the assassination of his doctoral supervisor and the professors who reviewed his thesis. Were it not for this copy that Shimazu sacrificed himself to save... that bastard doctor would have taken all this information with him to the grave."

"Very cool", said Henry excitedly, thumbing through the pages and scanning the scientific jargon contained therein, clueless as to what any of it meant. "You've been a yuuuge help, Bertie."

"Henry", said the young man in the ao dai, "we should get going. I smell something."

"Reapers", Dempsey muttered. And then he collapsed motionless, a dart in his jugular.

"Reapers!"

"Xiao-song", Henry commanded the young man, "create a portal NOW!"

As Xiao-song set to work opening a gateway, Henry quickly put the thesis in his backpack, took a magazine out of his pocket and loaded the SAR-21, cocking it and pointing it up at the general direction from where the dart had come, while Chieko drew her wakizashi, holding it in reverse grip, her fierce hazel eyes scanning the foliage that had invaded the inside of the abandoned shopping mall.

"There!"

A shadowy figure leapt out of the vines, zigzagging through the air and heading straight for the three. Before the assailant could reach Henry and take his backpack (it seemed that his objective was to seize the thesis), Chieko leapt into the air and landed a flying kick, planting the sole of her wooden sandal in the assailant's chest and sending him flying backwards.

The assailant crashed into the ground, but merely kipped-up and charged straight for the three, only to be taken down as Henry fired a round into his thigh, and then another into his chest. Still riding on his momentum, the assailant slid forward, leaving streaks of blood across the shiny floor, and then came to a stop just at Chieko's feet. Reaching down, Chieko tore off the assailant's mask, and the assailant splurted out blood, a haemopneumothorax having formed in his pleural cavity.

"Long live Lord Nebra", he spluttered, choking on his own blood. "Long live Lord Haikarakainen."

"For honour and glory", Chieko replied sardonically, ending the man with a quick slash to the jugular.

"Portal's up", said Xiao-song. "To Iowa we go."

As Chieko and Xiao-song hopped through the portal, Henry stooped down beside Dempsey's body, reverently and solemnly closing his old friend's eyelids.

"Amitabha."

And then he turned round and, feeling one last time for the thesis in his backpack, stepped through the portal just as it closed.

...




???

Image


Licks of blue fire exploded sporadically across the dusty plains outside the dark city as a hooded figure zigzagged across the grey roads, looking back occasionally to keep tabs on the six Reapers chasing after him and firing darts in his general direction. He drew a revolver from his robe and fired back at them, but the Reapers were able to deftly evade his bullets, and continued chasing after him.

The hole in the ground caught him by surprise, and the hooded man tripped, landing hard on the ground, a cracking sound snapping through the vast dusty emptiness as he fractured both his wrists in attempting to break his fall. The leader of the Reapers stood over the man and, removing his mask (revealing a dashing face), trampled hard on the man's ankles, shattering the bones.

"Give me the letter and I'll let you die painlessly", the Reaper commander demanded.

"The letter has already been delivered", the hooded man replied.

"Who was it delivered to?"

The hooded man spat in the Reaper commander's face. In response, the Reaper commander drew a katana and stabbed the man through the ribcage.

"You bastards of the Niijimagumi Yakuza are a fucking disgusting vermin", he screamed at the hooded man, who merely grimaced in pain and forced a defiant smile. "Give me the fucking letter, you worm!"

"I will not betray my Lady", the hooded man replied with a bloody grin.

"Believe me", the commander replied, driving the katana deeper into the man's body, the tip of the blade exiting on the other end, "you yakuza worms will be sought out and killed. Yotsuha Ikegami will rot in prison till the day she dies. None can escape the grasp of the IGSE."

"Long live Lady Ikegami", the hooded man replied irreverently. And then he crunched down on a cyanide ampoule at the back of his mouth, and with a frothing of blood at his lips, he fell silent.

...




Junichirō Koizumi, the fifth Gate Guardian, had vanished.

Twenty years after the death of Supreme Commander Thero Ionian Yiira of the Intergalactic Security Enterprise, resistance to the IGSE's tyrannic rule had grown to a colossal scale, culminating in what soon came to be known as the Grand Alliance, comprising warlords, yakuza, small nations afraid of the IGSE's growing influence, and heroes from across the universes upon which IGSE influence was encroaching. The Left Arm, too, a vestige of the old Soviet Union sent across worlds to take refuge from impending destruction, joined the Alliance, providing much support in terms of intelligence and reconnaissance. Koizumi himself was appointed Supreme Commander of the Grand Fleet.

And then the Grand Alliance was crushed.

Everybody expected the fight to be hard, but nobody could have predicted that the Supreme Commander would suddenly disappear, inexplicably, into thin air while on the bridge of his flagship. Nobody could have predicted that the shadowy, nameless one presiding over the IGSE would fire his entire military leadership, take personal control of his entire army, and then decimate the headless Grand Fleet through a series of uncannily well-timed manoeuvres.

Nobody would have expected the IGSE flagship to suddenly grow tentacles and morph into an eldritch creature that literally ate the ships of the Grand Alliance.

...




"The final gift of Dr Lam Jih-yeung to our cause", said the pointy-eared old man in the black kimono, quietly sipping his tea and looking out of the rainy window at the battleship parked in the hangar. "Such a shame that he failed to see reason and let us have the rest of his knowledge before he died."

"The Burzum should not be used so lightly, Iuzun", said the man on the other end of the phone. "Far from just being a giant ghoul... it fucks with your mind, the more you deploy it. Dr Lam was right to keep the whole project under wraps. You should be careful."

"Mr Haikarakainen, rest assured", said the pointy-eared man, "I am well aware of the specifications that Dr Lam left behind before he died. In any case, I have other priorities at the moment."

"Namely, to hunt down Yotsuha Ikegami?"

Iuzun chuckled and sipped his tea. The gramophone at the other end of his minimalist office continued playing its haunting melodies, as if it were keeping the constant flow of acidic rain outside pouring. The Burzum, sheltered from the rain, glowed a faint purple colour.

"Ikegami's yakuza has been a thorn in our side ever since the destruction of the Alliance", the man on the other end of the phone continued. "I did not expect her to survive the Burzum. She is more dangerous than we think. Not to mention that being a former ghoul test subject herself... she would be more than familiar with how the Burzum works."

"With the Chimaera crushed for good and Koizumi vanished, we can now focus on eliminating the final pockets of the Grand Alliance", said Iuzun.

"Have the Reapers obtained the last copy of Dr Lam's thesis yet?"

Iuzun fell silent.

"Unfortunately, we still have not heard word from them", he replied almost sheepishly, refilling his empty cup and sipping at the now diluted tea.

The man on the other end of the phone chuckled darkly.

"Everything I expected of the legendary Henry Saladass", he said. "Thankfully... you still haven't deployed your secret project, haven't you? The Jaldabaoth?"

"Not since I started work on it twenty years ago", Iuzun replied. "I've been saving it for when we need it most."

"Good", said Haikarakainen. "Dispatch the Jaldabaoth to kill Henry Saladass."

...




Numasawa 沼沢
Somewhere in the outer edges of the multiverse


"We've captured Ezekiel Haikarakainen!"

The 27th Chief of Intelligence of the IGSE, a muscular, skin-headed man, had been dragged down into the basement of Numasawa Castle, headquarters of the Niijimagumi Yakuza, one of the groups that had been part of the now decimated Grand Alliance that had fought the hegemonic arms manufacturing supercorporation during the War of Resistance two years ago.

In the meantime, while he was being tortured and interrogated by the yakuza underlings, a timid messenger bearing a letter walked down the steps of the castle to the bath area downstairs, stopping just outside the curtains of the female bath, where a kindly old woman stood, as if waiting for the messenger to arrive.

"Please deliver this letter to Lady Yotsuha", he said, passing the paper to the old woman.

The old woman smiled, bowed to the messenger, and headed into the bath.

There was nobody in there save for a slender-figured woman of about thirty three years, her entire body from the neck down tattooed with elaborate coils of magnificent dragons and phoenixes wrapped round her arms and her torso, the haunting eyes of an owl gazing out from between her shoulder blades, the rest of its body concealed within the coils of the dragons.

"Milady", said the old woman, "the letter has arrived."

"Pass it to me", said the yakuza boss, without turning her head.

The old woman gingerly stepped through the threshold and walked into the bath, before passing the letter, unopened, to the young lady immersed in the steaming water. The yakuza boss took the letter, gracefully opened the envelope, and unfolded the thick paper.

Yotsuha,

Anthony Haikarakainen has died, aged 39 years and 199 days. He lived far longer than we expected, to be honest, but unfortunately, it seems that the procedures done on him were too crude.

As for you, I think your condition is far more stable, but since Lam Jih-yeung is dead, I don't know if there is any way for certain to know whether or not the organs in you will pose any threat. In any case, I've heard from Henry that they've managed to get Dr Lam's PhD thesis on ghoulification. I will update you if anything happens.

Take care,

Dr Jeon Il-hyuk

P.S. You've probably heard by now, but it seems like Harakiri Haikarakainen has appointed his youngest son Isaiah the 28th Director of Intelligence to replace Ezekiel. The man is a monster, even by that damned family's standards. If he finds out I'm selling IGSE secrets on the black market, I most likely won't survive.


"Anthony..."

...
Last edited by Nagakawa on Sat May 18, 2019 6:16 am, edited 5 times in total.
If you run, you gain one, but if you move forward, you gain two.

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Skylus
Negotiator
 
Posts: 6511
Founded: Oct 25, 2016
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Skylus » Sun May 12, 2019 10:33 am

Ammy, Issun, and Ganon
Dead Man's Party


Ammy was a bit fazed when Polly offered to stay behind, but she shook her head and didn't move.
Ganon picked up the body, slung it over a shoulder, and then left the area without a word.
For what was there to say?

Ammy was a bit annoyed with Polly.
She was arrogant, a bit selfish, maybe a bit insane, certainly this plan of hers was thought up on the spot.
The Sun Goddess padded up to the woman, gently closed her mouth around Polly's hand, and pulled backwards a bit, wordlessly telling the woman to follow her.
"What are you doing, Ammy? If she wants to stay here, let her!"
Ammy shook her head and glared up at Polly, then let go of her hand and started to pace back and forth in front of her, then stopped suddenly and stared down the hallway.
Last edited by Skylus on Sun May 12, 2019 10:34 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Rostavykhan
Minister
 
Posts: 2187
Founded: Sep 30, 2017
Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Rostavykhan » Sun May 12, 2019 11:33 am

Dead Man's Party

Miria shook her head, groaning. "He's dead because of me! I didn't think about it when it happened! I gave Polly the tablet, but I...wait..Polly...", She trailed off. In an instant, she was back at Polly's side, face red, eyes bleary, teeth practically sunk into her lips. "You didn't get any energy signatures from that leak, did you?", She asked, bouncing nervously. "Was it glowing? Was any of the metal?"

The sound of footsteps was now right around the corner. Katya hissed again, glaring down at the small girl. Miria knew that she had to wait for the reply; not waiting a moment longer, Miria bolted, almost a blur as she ran to catch up with the others, and disappearing around the corner with Ganon, Marcus, and Mnemosyne, all just as a trio of strangers neared the hallway.

Katya was thankful at that moment that her acting would pay off, as she stowed her gun and knelt down. Her demeanor had changed in an instant, masking her annoyance. When the strangers emerged, she would already be near Polly, playing the part of the startled witness. "Are you okay?", She asked, loud enough for whoever was coming to hear. Then, she paused, before speaking up, calling out to them. "Is anyone else there?", She asked, fear and worry catching in her voice. While waiting for a response, she turned her head towards Ammy, hissing under her breath again. "We can handle this, Ma'am. I don't think having a wolf running about will help us seem less conspicuous."

She hoped the goddess would get the hint. She had a plan in mind, but having their cover blown again would only jeopardize it further. At least Polly looked Human.

While Katya stayed back to play along with Polly, Miria ran. She caught up quickly with the others, panting lightly, clutching the straps of her backpack. Her face was still contorted, anxiety and regret obviously getting the better of her. "We're going to Miss Katya's room, then?", She asked, eyeing the body that Ganon was carrying warily. She kept her distance, standing on the other side of the group, next to Mnemosyne. "I need to rearrange my tools. I wasn't expecting to get snatched up or blown up, so, uh, yeah."
LEARN TO HATE ; TOTAL HATRED FOR TOTAL WAR
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Menschenfleisch
Diplomat
 
Posts: 790
Founded: Nov 01, 2017
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Menschenfleisch » Sun May 12, 2019 9:35 pm

Dead Man's Party | Avenoir and Mnemosyne

Polly squinted at Miria, shrugging after a moment of consideration. "If the leak was acting up, I wouldn't know. I didn't get any readings from it either before or after the explosion." she quietly lay down upon the floor, tapping Ammy's leg and silently gesturing around the corner. If someone with her... 'demeanour' stuck around, they'd certainly have some trouble. Right now, their biggest threat appeared to be the guests. If they lost the trust of the entire hotel, they'd have nowhere to hide or gain supplies. Thankfully, there was very little blood on the walls. The settling dust had masked most of the moisture, cleanly obscuring the otherwise suspicious splatters up and down the hall.

"Hey! What's going on!?" a young man rounded the corner, catching sight of the congregation before him. A rather well dressed woman, covered in scratches and dust. A groaning, bloodied and more athletic person, sitting against a wall and rubbing her scalp, matted with blood. He quickly ran over, kneeling beside Polly and taking her hand. She played the part of an injured, dazed guest quite well, leaning heavily on the man's shoulder and stumbling to her feet. "What's, what's... noise?" she mumbled, staggering toward the man's companions. There were two guests and two staff. Two men in room service uniforms, one of whom was carrying Polly, and two male guests in relatively dapper outfits. Probably from the high end of town, even for this establishment.

The free staff member approached Katya, looking around as if he were appraising the aftermath of a massacre. "Can you hear me? What happened?" "Hurts, real bad. Umm... a blast, or something. Stinks. Eardrums might be burst." Polly muttered, falling into the waiting arms of the two guests. They were a bit taken aback at her condition, but seemed to take her weight quite well nonetheless. One of the two was a corpulent banker-looking type. The other, a younger and more celebrity-faced guy, with tobacco ash about his collar. "I want all of you back to the foyer. You shouldn't be here, the structure might give way!" it probably wasn't, but Polly was in no apparent 'condition' to tell them. Not without blowing her cover, at least.

Marcus and Mnemosyne, meanwhile, carried their grim cargoes upstairs. It would probably end quite badly for them if they were discovered along the way. Even worse, if they were discovered after they'd deposited their captives. If they managed to get word out that they'd been kidnapped in the aftermath of an explosion, there'd be no saving them from the mob. "Miri, you run on ahead. Make sure nobody runs into us on our way. It might be... troublesome, if they do." it was a short while until they reached Katya's room, the two of them mostly worn out. Mnemosyne had been the slowest of them by far, often sharing her load with someone else in the group. She was anemic and weak, even by the standards of incorporeal malnourished questionably-even-real women. While Marcus set about securing their two living guests, rifling through their pockets and making sure they didn't wake, she headed to the bathroom to clean out the grit from her hair and clothing. She was by far the least conspicuous member of the group, currently. Ganon and Amaterasu would attract too much attention with their mannerisms alone, Miria looked too young for anyone to take her seriously, Marcus was Marcus and everyone else was some degree of metahuman or batshit insane. She had to be their front, now that Polly and Katya were gone.

"Can we agree that we shouldn't tie these guys up? It ain't gonna look good if someone comes into our room, I mean. Hell, maybe they've got amnesia after the blast. It might be good to play the good cop, is all I'm saying." Mark disagreed, pulling the man's jacket off and looking all around his head, trying to identify any recording devices or communicators. "Bad idea. We need sentries, in that case. Also, muffling. Even if we gag them, they'll still be audible from the corridor. We should use this place as a staging ground, not a permanent holding cell. We should move them to a lockable room, at least."
Last edited by Menschenfleisch on Sun May 12, 2019 9:53 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Skylus
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Founded: Oct 25, 2016
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Skylus » Mon May 13, 2019 4:32 pm

King K. Rool
The Flying Krock
DK Isle


"FIRE!"
Various ammunition rained down upon the inhabitants of Donkey Kong Island, however, when the dust cleared, the Kongs were nowhere to be seen.
King "Krusha" Rool started hopping up and down in anger and the other Kremlings made sure to avoid approaching him until the King calmed down.
Klubba approached 'Rool.
"Uh....Sir....you might want to see this."
"What is it now?! Every single one of my plans have failed so far, what can you POSSIBLY TELL ME THAT IS GOOD?!"
Klubba froze, then pointed to the front console, where beyond the viewport, a massive portal could be seen floating in the sky.
K. Rool looked up at the thing with interest.
"...What should we do, sir?" asked a Klomp as he sat on the floor while adjusting his wooden leg.
K. Rool taped his fatty scaled chin with one claw.
"We go through the thing and see what awaits us on the other side!"

The crew of The Flying Krock stared at their leader for a second, then, not wanting to disobey orders, rushed to their stations.
Soon, the crocodilian airship's quad-engine's started to whine as the ship slowly started to move towards the portal, then rapidly picked up speed, the eight sharp propellers (two on each 'leg', one top, one bottom) slicing the air as it moved.
Then, the airship sailed through the portal and it was gone.

Shadows of the Empire
Fortuna, Lylat System


Snow and ice greeted the Kremlings as their airship flew through the portal. The heat from the engines made it possible to see, at least.
"krusha. I want information on where we are."
"yes sir" The Krusha saluted and ran off to get information.

K.Rool leaned forwards on the viewport and grinned evilly.
A new world for the taking? Don't mind if I do, he thought. Then his thoughts were interrupted by Krusha talking to him.
"We have company. Two sides want to talk to us."
"Oh? They do? let me speak to them."

Krusha handed K. Rool a comms radio.
"My name is King K.Rool, Komander of the Kremling Army, my vessel of transport is The Flying Krock. To whomever I am speaking to, come and find me. Whoever finds me first, I join you. I'm eager to see who finds me first."


Doug & Link
Senate Building/Hangar Bay; Coruscant


"A hostage - I'm not qualified to deal with this...Alright, Fine. I'll head to this...Temple."
Doug nodded to the Cornerian and AEGIS soldiers before he motioned for Link to follow him and the two Hylians left the hangar.

"...So this is...Some sort of floating metal ship?"
A Civilian Speeder was parked before them, one of several models that were close by.
"Yes...Although this one..."
Doug walked up to the speeder and inspected the model number on the side.
"....Bit hard to read...X J...Six? Huh."
The pilot stepped back.
"I bet that whoever owned this was rich. They don't seem to need it now, however."
"Wait, we're going to steal this?"
"Yeah. Whoever owned this doesn't seem to be coming back for it. It's here, might as well use it."
Doug quickly checked out the XJ-6 speeder's cockpit to try to figure out how to fly it and spotted something metal.
"...They actually walked off without the key! Good, I don't need to hotwire this."
Doug spent a few moments figuring out how to open the door and then sat down in the pilot seat, made himself comfortable - they were very nice seats - and motioned to Link.
"Well? Don't just stand there, get in!"


It was around an hour later when Doug spotted the Jedi Temple on the horizon. Even from where he was, he could tell that something had rammed into the structure.
Doug thought about somehow reaching whoever was at the Temple by comms but then thought against it and landed the Speeder in front of the Temple around ten minutes later.
A minute later, the two Hylians got out of the Speeder, got used to standing again, and then entered the Jedi Temple and merely waited for someone to show up and tell them what was going on.
Last edited by Skylus on Tue May 14, 2019 11:18 am, edited 3 times in total.
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Nagakawa
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Founded: May 01, 2019
Scandinavian Liberal Paradise

Postby Nagakawa » Tue May 14, 2019 1:31 am

”Ilrien!”

Many weeks already, Ilrien had gone to the elderly home, armed with a backpack of rye bread and a thermos of hot soup. The young elf had no family of his own, but one particular person there, a kindly old man by the name of Dom Butto, had been like a father to Ilrien, and thus, the elf saw a need to visit, every day.

Not that he had minded at all, to begin with. Ever since he was born, the now 16 year old Ilrien had only known the inside of Dom Butto te-Yoba’s general store, tucked away in a quiet, cosy corner of the city of Anbar in the Kingdom of Inaria, somewhere far in the more remote ends of the multiverse. Nobody really thought it strange that an elf was living with a human; far stranger things happened elsewhere.

“Uncle, I’ve brought you bread and soup”, the young Ilrien would say.

“Thank you, dear.”

When Uncle Dom was too weak to run the shop on his own, Ilrien had no choice but to find a nursing home for him, seeing as the multistoreyed shophouse was far too inaccessible for the old man. He took care to visit him regularly, so as not to leave him alone.

“Is it good?”

“Why yes. Thank you, Ilrien.”

Over time, Uncle Dom’s hearing and memory faded, and Ilrien, though he continued to faithfully visit him, was eventually forced to raise his voice.

“Do you remember that first night, when I found you?”

“NOT REALLY”, Ilrien had to lean in next to the old man’s war and scream just so he could hear. “TELL ME MORE.”

“We were on a voyage along the coastline of Ruthiem”, said Uncle Dom, his voice raspy. “And I saw a Ruthiemian merchant vessel scuttled along the rocks. I insisted that I heard someone in there, and I asked the captain to pull over, which is how I found you.”

Ilrien had heard the story a thousand times, but nevertheless, always sat down and listened to old Uncle Dom tell the story.

“WHAT HAPPENED AFTER THAT?”

“We were pursued by a Ruthiemian brig”, Uncle Dom continued. “They thought we were Noatans. So we hoisted our Inarian flag. That kept them away.”

For the most part, Uncle Dom’s memories of times long past remained largely intact, though he could never remember for the life of it what he had done in the past week or month. Ilrien would come back and yell out the exact same conversations from weeks ago, but where food was concerned, he always strived to cook up a variety of different soups and to purchase different varieties of bread from the bakery. It was far from easy, considering that the war between Ruthiem and Noata had jacked up the price of essential imports from both sides, but as Ilrien reasoned, it wasn’t like he was doing anything else other than his dreary accounting job.

Then one day, he was informed by a staff member of the elderly home that 72-year-old Dom Butto te-Yoba had fallen and hit his head.

Ilrien rushed from his workplace, bought a fresh soup from a restaurant with his entire day’s earnings, and charged to the home, where he found Uncle Dom sitting upright in a wheelchair, the side of his head bandaged and bruised.

“UNCLE DOM... I BOUGHT YOU SOUP”, he yelled. By then, he was so used to screaming in Uncle Dom’s ear that he could no longer lower his volume. “A SPECIAL TREAT FOR TODAY.”

Uncle Dom looked up at Ilrien, confused and dazed, evidently having trouble recognising the person standing in front of him.

“Gonad”, said Uncle Dom.

Ilrien, perplexed, squinted.

“WHAT?”

“Gonad”, Uncle Dom said again.

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND”, Ilrien yelled back. “HERE, HAVE SOME SOUP.”

Old Uncle Dom sniffed at the soup, cringed, and then said, in a soft, almost mournful voice, “gonad.” And that was the end of it.

Ilrien, shocked and confused, was reduced to dragging himself back and forth from his workplace and his little hovel of a home, surviving on meagre scraps of leftovers he could scrounge from the seedy pubs he now moonlighted at. His visits to old Uncle Dom became fewer and fewer, not because he didn’t want to visit him, but because he no longer could, as the price of raw ingredients soon became more and more jacked up thanks to the ongoing war between Ruthiem and Noata, and the resultant loss of trade money. Though the Kingdom of Inaria could still charge money from the Ruthiemian and Noatan vessels passing through the Inarian Canal cutting through the isthmus it inhabited, the ships coming from both nations became fewer and more sparse, as each respective government began to devote more and more resources to the construction of their cruel war machines and less to the funding of the once proud mercantile fleets.

One night, while he was on his way home from work, just before dawn, Ilrien was ambushed by a band of thieves looking to alleviate their poverty. Possessing no weapons of his own, the young elf made to run away, only to be cornered in an alley by the thieves, who brandished their cruel weapons and fists.

“Give us your money and maybe we’ll make off without cutting your shrivelled little balls off”, said one of the thieves.

Ilrien reached into his pocket and took out a single coin, worth little more than a stalk of asparagus.

“THAT’s ALL I HAVE”, he bawled, on the verge of tears. “PLEASE... I HAVE NO MORE...”

“Fucking idiotic little elf thing, stop yelling or you’ll attract the police”, another thief hissed, moving in closer to Ilrien.

The boy elf’s overly loud voice did attract some attention, but not that of the police. Looming behind the six thieves came the massive figure of a Yokozuna, dressed in a splendid kimono and with a baguette tucked under his arm.

“Leave the boy alone.”

The next thing he knew, Ilrien was looking at a pile of unconscious thieves, and standing before them, the massive man in the kimono, who proceeded to rummage through the pockets of the thieves, eventually standing back up with a handful of coins and passing them to Ilrien.

“Go buy some food and give the rest back to me”, he said. “I’ll be at the Newtown Bar tonight from 7pm. Go in there and tell them you’re looking for Satoshi Tanakamaru.”

Ilrien could only manage a confused nod to the big man as he darted off with the coins. He had something else on his mind.

He hadn’t cooked soup for Uncle Dom in a long time.

As he reached the market, purchasing all the ingredients necessary to make a simple chicken soup, wild thoughts raced through the young Ilrien’s mind. What if Uncle Dom was already dead? How could he forgive himself??

But as the smell of the soup wafted from the little cauldron, as he spooned it into the thermos and bolted out the door and into the now rainy streets, something in the air put Ilrien’s mind at ease. It was an inexplicable something, not possible to describe with language, but Ilrien knew exactly what it was, both then, as he bolted out his door, and later, as he charged through the doors of the old folks’ home, coming straight to Uncle Dom’s ward, soaked from head to toe in sweat and rain.

“UNCLE DOM”, he screamed. “I COOKED YOU SOME SOUP!”

The old man was in terrible shape, barely conscious, and with several IV tubes linked to both his arms, but nevertheless, heard Ilrien’s voice, if only barely. The nurses in attendance assisted Ilrien in helping Uncle Dom to the table and in serving the chicken soup into a bowl.

“I’M SORRY”, he yelled, unable to stop smiling. “IT ISN’T MUCH, BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT.”

The old man sipped the soup, and then turned to Ilrien, tears welling up in his eyes as he beamed.

“Gonad...” he shakily said.

That night, Uncle Dom peacefully passed on, with Ilrien by his side. Life went on as usual, as the now jaded nurses proceeded to clean Uncle Dom’s remains and place him into a coffin. For Ilrien, though, it was as if a new chapter had opened for him. The loss of his one remaining family in the world had somehow opened his eyes to the horizon before him...

“I’m gonna need your name before you can bring out the body”, said the nurse to ilrien, handing a book to him.

“MY NAME, EH?”

For a moment, Ilrien’s hand dangled over the paper, the pen’s nib nearly hitting the paper, before he withdrew the pen and then, with one final decisive stroke, wrote out his full name.

GONAD BUTTO

And then, as if for good measure, another minute addition.

GÖNAD BUTTO

“THAT IS ALL, MISSY”, he said to the nurse. “I’LL BE BACK TOMORROW MORNING TO PICK HIM UP. HELP ME ARRANGE FOR SOME GUYS TO HELP CARRY HIM TO THE GRAVEYARD.”

And so, as the dark, overcast sky gave way yet again to a radiant morning, Gönad Butto charged out of the nursing home, through the streets, and towards the city centre. He had not forgotten the name of the place he was to go to, but now, as the sun’s grand rays lit up the stony streets, it held even greater significance for him. Much like a gem, fashioned from a raw chunk into a glittering jewel worthy of a king.

“IS THERE A MR SATOSHI TANAKAMARU HERE???”

The bar fell silent, and a gigantic man in a suit sitting by the bar counter looked up at the elf.

“You’re late, laddie.”

...





L-Fel
Iowa


“Yuuuge place”, said Henry Saladass, clutching the straps of his two rifles as the trio marched across the portal from Singapore to Iowa, closing it behind them. “We just need to wait for our contact with the Niijimagumi to come pick us up.”

“D’you reckon they’ll ever come?” Xiao-song asked rhetorically, his curious regional accent lending a lilting, rural quality to his voice. “Dempsey was a lucky one, but I’d say we haven’t had much luck lately.

“We have the thesis”, said Henry. “At least there’s that.”

“Sad world, innit?” Xiao-song said, sighing and shrugging. He took out a cigarette and then cursed, remembering that he had forgotten to bring a lighter or matches along.

Chieko Namikawa merely remained silent, quietly scanning the area.

“Something feels off about this whole place”, she remarked. “Like there’s some... weird shit going on out there. I don’t exactly know what, but... you know...”

“Ain’t much we can do about it,” Xiao-song replied. “Just gotta stay careful. I don’t smell nothin’, so I reckon we’d be safe for the time being.”

“HOLY DOGSHIT KEBABS, GUYS, DO Y’ALL THINK THAT’S WHO I THINK IT IS?”

An all too familiar voice burst out from around a corner, and out came, to Henry’s utterly pleasant surprise, three familiar figures appeared, all twenty years older from when he last saw them, but distinctly recognisable nonetheless; the pink-haired elf wearing a Hentai Haven shirt, the massive sumo wrestler wearing his now white hair in a chonmage, and a brawler in a singlet and shorts with the phrase “I have excellent judgement” tattooed to his forehead.

“Fuck my senses, Henry, you are the guy codenamed Trump Card???”

“Gönad, Steffen, Satoshi”, Henry rattled off the names like Santa Claus reading from his priority list, spreading his arms and running towards the three, barely able to contain his childlike excitement. “You’re all alive!”

“Holy fuck, Henry, you look horrible”, said Steffen Lunes, the man with the tattooed forehead, taking out a ¥10,000 note with a very detailed penis drawn on it and pasting it onto his forehead, covering the tattoo. “The fuck have you been doing this whole time?”

Henry shrugged.

“I thought you three were... Did you not...”

“WE WERE THE FIRST TO BE EJECTED FROM THE MARIS STELLA”, Gönad screamed at the top of his lungs, his throat showing no sign of hoarseness. “IT WAS JUST ME, STEFFEN, SATOSHI, MERA, AND... JARNEN JARGEN. WE SAW THE OTHER POD MAKE IT AWAY IN TIME, BUT WE HAD NO IDEA OT WAS YOU.”

“Tenri Gohnza...”

Henry fell into silence.

“I wonder how everybody is doing now”, he said at last, after a moment. “Yotsuha... Ackermann...”

“Believe it or not”, said Steffen Lunes, taking out another ¥10,000 note and drawing a vagina on the watermark area, “Actually I don’t think you’d believe me. None of you believed me that time when I told you that I sucked a Russian prince’s dick at a diplomatic dinner.”

“What?”

“We saw Ackermann somewhere in this world”, said Tanakamaru, breaking his silence, as usual, only to dispense crucial information. “Not too far from here, in fact.”

“Really???”

“Henry, we have a mission to complete”, said Chieko. “Can you stay focused?”

“Who’s that girl?” Steffen inquired in his sing-song cockney.

“Remember Ceiji and Itona?” Henry said excitedly, barely able to control his joy of reunion. “That’s-“

Before he could finish his sentence, Chieko had reached into Henry’s backpack and pulled out the late Dr Lam Jih-yeung’s thesis, tossing it over to the silent Tanakamaru, who took it and quickly thumbed through the pages of jargon to verify that it was a genuine thing.

“NO, STEFFEN, FUCK OFF!” Gönad screamed at Steffen, who was about to draw a penis on the cover. “NOT NOW, AT LEAST!”

Xiao-song looked at Chieko and cocked his head cheekily.

“How’s Yotsuha?” Henry asked.

Steffen, who was still defacing the note, suddenly became more somber, quietly putting aside his zebra marker.

“Her drinking has gotten worse”, he mumbled. “I’ve tried hiding all the vodka, but somehow, she finds it eventually. And there’s only so much vodka I myself can drink.”

Henry nodded solemnly.

“Other than that, she’s fine”, Steffen added, his mood suddenly perking up incongruously. “She’d be so happy to meet you again. Perhaps we should organise a meeting...”

“Come to think of it”, said Xiao-song to Chieko, “Do we actually have anything else to do after this?”

“Not that I know of”, Chieko replied.

“Yo Henry, why don’t we grab some drinks with this delightful trio here?”

“Good idea”, said Henry. “What say y’all?”

“GOOD IDEA”, Gönad screamed, “EXCEPT THAT THERE AREN’T ANY BARS ANYWHERE.”

“There’s a hospital nearby”, said Steffen. “We can go grab drinks from the hospital convenience store.”

...
Last edited by Nagakawa on Tue May 14, 2019 1:35 am, edited 1 time in total.
If you run, you gain one, but if you move forward, you gain two.

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Naval Monte
Postmaster-General
 
Posts: 13928
Founded: Sep 04, 2014
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Naval Monte » Tue May 14, 2019 4:11 pm

Shadows of the Empire

Jedi Temple

When Doug and Link arrived within the Jedi Temple they would see the gray and black figures of the soldiers from MST Marauder's Dagger watching them. Commander Archer stepped forward and looked at them. "So your the elves that are working with us?" He asked. "Look I don't know how useful you two will be but that doesn't matter. As far as we are concerned no one else is allowed any further into the temple. Besides most of the terrorists in here are being taken care off. Tell the others that we have e everything cleared in here."

The commander told the two as the other soldiers all watch them, some getting close go the side to stop them should they try to get through the commander to d ger the temple. Deep within the temple the medics were taking away the living hostages away from the council room while Ben was fully healed. "He can walk?" The medic nodded. "Good. Take him to our gunships and take him away." The soldiers would flip Ben over to his stomach and cuff jus hands behind his back.

They would force him to his feet and force him out of the council room. Hex turn to Avarice and Valerian. "I'm surprised you two are working together? Is this alliance going to last throughout the war or only for this moment?" She asked. Down at the entrance both Hylians would see the hostage and injured troops being carried away and would see Ben being last on the line, surrounded hy soldiers and cuffed.
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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Prusselanden
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Posts: 7998
Founded: Oct 29, 2015
Ex-Nation

Postby Prusselanden » Wed May 15, 2019 5:10 pm

L-Fel
Alemayahu was even more weirded out by Terasaka when he began to inquire whether they were some weird nationalities or not. But yet again, Aestus had also come from a fantasy dimension, so maybe she should start accepting that this world just could produce some weird things.

Jules was quite touched by Yrjo's plea, and seeing his distress at arriving at the wrong exit through the portal, wished to help him. "Well...we are going on this mission to bring down this inhumane and secret human experimentation group, so if you would want to come and help, you're welcome to. Though, I really don't know how to get you home. I'm very sorry..."

"You see nothing wrong with disclosing our confidential plans to complete strangers?" Alemayahu glared at Jules, who paled. However, the detective then shifted her focus to Cass, who seemed to be threatening the two. "No Cass, bad shapeshifter. These people aren't a threat yet so I advise you to try not to weird them out too much." Truth be told, she was worried about Cass's personality seemingly shifting at random. If Cass suddenly became hostile to them in a tight situation, it could be a problem.

"Anyways. If you really wanna help us..." Ale pointed to Terasaka. "Fat dude. You come with me and Cass. Purple haired dude. You stay here with Aestus and Jules and try not to get into any trouble. Find a cafe or something to hang out in before I come back." The detective then started to walk off. "Alright losers, come on, we're going shopping."

"Um..." Jules smiled at Yrjo. "So, my name is Julian Yamada, nice to meet you." She bowed to him in greeting.

Hospital
"So, there's a team of historical figures going around to fix our timeline. They're the Western Zaetgeschlager team and his highness is supposed to be in command. However, since he's injured...Newton takes up most of his duties." Ackermann explained to Irwin. "Isaac Newton's a famous Mathematician and Physicist in my timeline. He can be kind of arrogant and snappish though." She chuckled.
"It is a joke, the belief that humans are superior to our animal brethren. We are slower, weaker, less beautiful and intelligent than our counterparts yet we rule the world. Or do we?"-Prusselanden
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Nagakawa
Diplomat
 
Posts: 992
Founded: May 01, 2019
Scandinavian Liberal Paradise

Postby Nagakawa » Thu May 16, 2019 6:36 am

L-Fel - Iowa
Hospital


It was just a short walk to the hospital from where Henry and his two new companions met up with his old friends from long ago. The streets were deathly silent, and though they were not as unkemptly overgrown as the jungly avenues of Singapore, Henry could not help but feel a deep, mysterious darkness in the air. Not a darkness of evil, but a darkness of the unknown. Memories of a time long past flooding him again, memories of a golden age long past.

Perhaps it was a matter of perception. Henry himself found that he had trouble registering the faces of the crowds or the streams of people who went by, minding their own business, probably unaware of what exactly was occurring outside the firmaments of their (relatively) quiet dimension. The sort of horrors from which most people, thankfully, were spared.

Consequently, Henry himself often tended to perceive even crowded places, sometimes, as empty. Much like an old friend of his, in fact.

Samuel...

“You got some delightful friends, Henry”, said Xiao-song, smirking and walking along as he watched Steffen reach into his pocket and take out a ¥10,000 note, which he proceeded to deface with a zebra marker.

Henry chuckled. Few, if any, had described his motley crew as “delightful”.

“STEFFEN, THAT WAS THE LAST OF MATSUSHITA’S MONEY”, screamed Gönad. “NOT LIKE WE HAVE ANYWHERE TO SPEND IT, BUT YOU NEED TO FIND SOMETHING ELSE TO DRAW ON SOON.”

“Aw, trust me, I can control myself”, said Steffen, stuffing the now penis-vandalised note back into his pocket and proceeding to doodle on his palm.

“I just need you to remember”, said Xiao-song more quietly, tiptoeing and whispering into Henry’s ear, “that unlike these guys, I’m not your friend. You’re just my client.”

“Okay”, Henry reaffirmed.

It wasn’t long before they reached the hospital and went inside, heading straight for the store and ignoring the bemused looks of the other people inside as the motley six headed for the store and purchased a rather significant amount of grapefruit juice and sake, which they then proceeded to mix, in Gönad’s thermos flask, and then swig from. (Shockingly, the currency exchange machine accepted the Japanese yen despite it having been defaced by Steffen.) The security guards standing around gave the six sojourners curious looks, but owing to their surprisingly decent behaviour, opted not to chase them away for the time being.

“Funny you should mention Ackerman”, said Henry, chugging the grapefruit-sake mix voraciously. ”I had a dream about xer last night. Nice green fields, very beautiful, the best, believe me. Xe was sitting at the top, xe was wearing this beautiful, beautiful white dress. I don’t know why exactly I dreamt that, but hey, if I had the money, I’d pay for that dress, believe me. And I used to have the money, in fact, I did, when I was young. Started out in the dimensional café industry as the owner of a chain for dimension hoppers. Very good business, very legal and very cool. My father gave me a small loan of a million dollars.”

“I definitely saw Ackermann here”, said Tanakamaru tersely.

Being rather left out of the conversation between the four recently reunited brothers-in-adventuring, Chieko and Xiao-song stepped aside briefly, the latter taking out his pack of cigarettes and then, once again, cursing under his breath that he had misplaced his lighter.

“D’you reckon this whole business will ever end?” Xiao-song asked Chieko, still visibly agitated from his nicotine deprivation. “This whole business with the IGSE... it’s been going on as long as I remember. My hometown’s council of governors can’t even be arsed to do anything about it.”

Chieko sighed and sipped from the little bottle of apricot milkshake she had purchased from the convenience store.

“Your father and mother fought in the Great Sino-Japanese War, didn’t they?”

Chieko looked up at Xiao-song blankly and momentarily stopped sucking on her drink.

“I... I’m sorry”, he sheepishly added. “I didn’t mean to...”

“Not like there’s much I can do about it anyway”, Chieko replied, sucking up the last drops of the milkshake in her bottle and tossing it into the recycling bin with the deadly accuracy of the Iga Ninja circle in which she had been trained. “The war between the Grand Alliance and the IGSE ended two years ago. I haven’t quite gotten over it yet, but it’s not like I’m dying inside or anything.”

She lifted up her wallet and looked at the two pictures pasted inside. One was of a young couple at the beach, a waifish, feminine-looking Japanese man with a long ponytail and a shredded, lean body, standing beside a snarky-looking blonde lady in a rather conservative bikini carrying a crying toddler in her arms- Chieko. The second was of 17-year-old Chieko, dresses in a kimono, alongside the two; the man had trimmed his hair short and grown a bit of a beer belly which his tuxedo hid partially, while the lady, despite her crow’s feet and streaks of grey, still looked svelte and spiffy, decked out in what looked like a dated military uniform.

“I still can’t believe the Grand Alliance is gone”, Chieko continued. “Everything my father and mother spent so much effort to build up... Mr Koizumi... Henry... Frederick and Ackermann...”

Xiao-song sighed and uneasily teased the filter end of his cigarette with his lips.

“Life’s like that, innit?”




L-Fel - San Francisco

Yrjo, though he attempted to hide his excitement at his offer being accepted, smiled faintly.

“Alright”, he said, fingering the hilt of his sword. “Just let me know when y’all need anything done, and I’ll get to it.”

As Terasaka sheepishly went off with the rest of the group, Yrjo walked around with Jules to find themselves a cafe to sit down and relax at, returning her greeting with a nod and a soft “Hello”.

“I take it you aren’t exactly familiar with my world”, he said, casually putting his hands in his pockets. “If you like, I guess I could explain it a little more in detail to you, when we... finally go back...”

As much as he tried to maintain his military, almost condescending demeanour, Yrjo could not help but give off the air of a confused child granted too much responsibility and too little mentorship. In his voice was a streak of longing, for something he had not seen for more than a year, for something for which he at once felt no attachment but also more attachment than anything else he knew.

What is a country?

What is a country, but an arbitrarily-divided piece of land distinguished by a coloured pennant and a figurehead?

I would not die for it. Such a construct, stripped of its grandeur and pomp, is naught but a collection of fields, a conglomeration of mountains and forests, a cluster of cities and towns, a council of old men whom I have never met.

And yet, I would die for my grandfather. I would die for my grandmother, and I would die for little Ylgir, sleeping soundly in his crib. The same, I imagine, goes for all in this world. Ask any man, any soldier, to tell you what his country means most to him, and save for the most violent and senseless nationalist, he will name, first and foremost, his family.

My country is my family.


“That looks good”, Yrjo finally said, jolting himself out of his philosophising upon noticing in the periphery of his vision a cosy, somewhat dimly-lit cafe along the side of the street. “That cafe, I mean.”

He wondered what Jules would think of him. She seemed like a nice enough person, what with her almost excessive politeness and all, but deep down inside, Yrjo had always harboured a deep insecurity over the true intentions of others. This, coupled with his tendency to share sensitive information with others in times of desperation, often heightened the latent anxiety that throbbed in his stomach persistently, even in the deep of the night, while his eyelids became leaden with the angel of sleep.

“Shall we grab some tea?” He asked, awkwardly, not quite sure how exactly to strike up a conversation with Jules. “I’m parched.”

...
Last edited by Nagakawa on Thu May 16, 2019 3:18 pm, edited 1 time in total.
If you run, you gain one, but if you move forward, you gain two.

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Rostavykhan
Minister
 
Posts: 2187
Founded: Sep 30, 2017
Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Rostavykhan » Thu May 16, 2019 10:56 am

Dead Man's Party

Miria


On command, Miria ran ahead to scout out the hallways. She was still nervous, but if they were all spotted carrying bodies, then she'd probably be dead, so that anxiety definitely seemed the better option. The soft, rapid pitter-patter of feet quickly faded from the group's earshot as she ran ahead. Before she reached the next corner, she came to a stop, and slid close to the wall to better peek around and listen in on any noise.

There was none. She waved the group along, signaling that it was okay to move.

The next few hallways were the same, with Miria bolting ahead in near total silence. It looked difficult, her sprinting about with a bag full of tools weighing her down while remaining silent, but it came naturally to her. To what degree her natural talent came into play versus her potential training was uncertain, however. At any rate, it was easier than sneaking around trees or climbing buildings like she'd been doing just days earlier in London. She might not have been strong, but nimble...

When the gang reached the hallway where their rooms were located, Miria once again stopped at the corner, keeping her ears open; footsteps! She tensed, listening closely, but...no...they were leaving. She held up a hand, signaling the group to stop, and waited until whoever it was had left the hall, before waving for them to follow once more. She disappeared around the corner in the blink of an eye, and by the time the others came around, she was already at Katya's door, fumbling with the doorknob.

"Hopefully they'll be back soon.", She mumbled, hoping that Katya, Ammy, and Polly would be safe. "In! In!", She hissed, waving for everyone to enter, letting her eyes dart up and down the hall to look for any possible signs of activity. She let the rest of the group in, before finally jumping in herself, closing the door and latching it from the inside. She'd open it again as soon as the other three had arrived.

Wherever the lot of them decided to put their prisoners, she didn't care. Miria was all nerves, and as soon as everyone was in the safety of the other woman's room, she dove behind the bed and under a table, where she would be alone and comfortable. Her bag went beside her, as she had quickly scooted up in the corner, tablet in hand, and legs folded to her chest. The soft blue light of the tablet flickered on, reflecting off of her spectacles.

Katya's room wasn't any different from that of the others, with its large bed, table and chairs, and desk. Her luggage was packed away and organized neatly against one of the walls, with the exception of one suitcase, which laid on the bed. Several pieces of monitoring equipment were lain on the nightstand beside the bed, along with a handbook, although it was all in Russian. A familiar pill bottle was also left next to the lamp. There was a bathroom and closet - both of which were empty, save for a few towels and some soap; wherever the prisoners went would be up to those carrying them.


Katya

Katya nodded and followed the men, clasping her hands. "After you!", She said, following the group. "And thank you for being a gentleman and assisting this young woman! I don't believe I could carry her. Once we're downstairs I'll see what I can do to help her.", She said, trying to sound as shaken and worried as possible, which wasn't very difficult for herself.

Her heart was pounding; would they have any trouble downstairs? As soon as they were alone again, she'd need to get them away so that they could sneak back upstairs. She had a simply plan in mind, but first they'd need to check up on Polly, and then the girls would need to be left to their own devices once more. She hoped the others would already be settled in when they arrived.
LEARN TO HATE ; TOTAL HATRED FOR TOTAL WAR
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Nagakawa
Diplomat
 
Posts: 992
Founded: May 01, 2019
Scandinavian Liberal Paradise

Postby Nagakawa » Sat May 18, 2019 6:03 am

Numasawa 沼沢

"Reapers."

All around the forests surrounding the castle, at least a few hundred dark figures could be spotted leaping from the treetops, running down the forest clearings and paths, bashing through the vegetation, and swimming down the streams, headed straight for the nigh impenetrable fortress standing proudly in the centre of the forest, surrounded by large open spaces where a few starships had been docked. Along the outer walls that protected the castle, the soldiers defending the Niijimagumi Yakuza's castle loaded their weapons and took up their defensive positions, awaiting orders to open fire.

"Ane-san", whispered one of the frontline commanders through his walkie talkie, "awaiting your orders, ma'am."

Silence for a short while, and then a decisive command.

"Kill them all."

The commander put away his walkie talkie and drew his pistol.

"OPEN FIRE!"

The sound of automatic weapons crackling like firecrackers during the New Year tore through the otherwise quiet valley and echoed through the forest towards the mountains far in the distance. Flocks of terrified birds rose from the trees and escaped into the sky, driven from their homes by the relentless barrage of GPMG fire that shredded the edges of the forest and laid waste to some sixty or seventy of the IGSE Reapers as they emerged from the dark waters and canopies.

Supply lines soon began to rush back and forth, bringing more ammunition to the walls, but even as the first line of defenders continued to relentlessly fire, the waves of Reapers never ended, and those who emerged from the darkness soon proved to be harder and harder to kill, scaling the walls deftly and drawing their melee weapons to engage the yakuza troops stationed at the top of the walls. As the hand-to-hand combat commenced, the GPMGs were forced to withdraw, and thus, the first of the two walls were breached.

...

"Ane-san, I have a report from... Oh, my... my apologies..."

Image
Yotsuha Ikegami
池神 四葉

(34 years old)
Chief of the Niijimagumi Yakuza


"No worries", Yotsuha calmly replied to her subordinate who had unfortunately intruded on her room while she was changing. "It was my fault for forgetting to lock the door."

As Yotsuha calmly put on her deep blue kimono, concealing the intricate irezumi tattoos that covered her entire body, her subordinate fumbled for a piece of paper that he had stashed into his business suit, finally pulling it out and shakily reading from it.

"Brother Chiguma reports that", he stammered anxiously, "... that... that... that the Reapers number in the high thousands. They probably have... have a senior commander. We... we may not have the firep-p-power needed to hold them off on our own."

With her kimono on, Yotsuha opened her drawer, pulled out a half-empty bottle of vodka, and proceeded to fill a glass and drain it immediately.

"We were caught off guard", she murmured, filling another glass and then draining it straight away, desensitised to the effects of the alcohol. "Thankfully, Numasawa is just a decoy... but we have to leave nonetheless."

"What of the prisoner?"

"Ezekiel Haikarakainen is already in critical condition anyway", Yotsuha replied, downing a third glass of vodka. "We've gotten all the information we need from him already. Just pull his life support before we leave."

"Yes, milady!"

Once the subordinate had disappeared to disseminate the orders of his boss, Yotsuha sighed, adjusting her kimono, finishing the final drops of vodka in the bottle, and taking one last look at her dimly-lit room.

"Henry Saladass... to think that you of all people were Trump Card..."

As she closed her suitcase full of personal effects and made for the door, she stopped dead in her tracks. Amidst the chaos of attendants and warriors alike scrambling, Yotsuha blanked out, the walls of the castle fading away into the blackness of space. Standing before her was a young man, his messy poet's hair falling in clumps over his eyes, a pair of kind brown eyes gazing gently from his deep-set sockets and prominent cheekbones.

"Father."

Yotsuha. How I long to see you again.

"Father... Do you ever feel like no matter how much you try... no matter how hard you fight... that nothing you do really matters?"

Such is the nature of the universe, Yotsuha. As much as I would like to believe the old fairy tales... sometimes, we can only accept the fact that evil can triumph too.

Yotsuha sighed.

"I feel as if... I have dug myself into a pit from which there is no escape."

...

"Father... please tell me... how should one live?"

Yotsuha...

My dear Yotsuha...

I'm afraid I cannot answer that question for you.

Today, you are thirty four years old. When I died... I was only twenty nine years old.

Your path is yours alone to discover.


...

Image
Chiguma no Yōzō
池神の葉蔵

Personal retainer of Yotsuha Ikegami


"Yotsuha."

The fearsome Chiguma no Yōzō was, save for the old lady who cleaned the bath, the only person in the Niijimagumi who addressed its boss Yotsuha on a first-name basis.

All around, the sound of gunfire and cannons rang through the castle. While the Reapers were being held back, Yotsuha, accompanied by her attendants and maids bearing her luggage and personal effects, headed towards one of the starships docked in the open field.

"Preparations have been made", he said gruffly, gesturing to one of the ships. "This is the Maris Stella II. We will be heading to Kanegi Prefecture in Dimension 50. Lord Nobuhisa Asano offers you his protection."

"Very well. We can rendezvous with Trump Card there, if needed."

Then, after a short pause, she added, "Thank you for your hard work, Yōzō."

The old warrior sighed deeply and, as Yotsuha's valets all entered the ship, carrying her luggage, walked up to her and leaned against her ear.

"Please remember that I owe my life to you, Yotsuha", he whispered. "Three times, you have saved me from death. Three of the kanji in my name belong to you. But I only have one life with which I can repay you. Use me as you see fit."

Yotsuha nodded solemnly, finding no appropriate words with which she could reply. And then, as Yōzō boarded the ship, he stopped, turning round to face Yotsuha, who stood at the edge of the door catatonically.

"Come, Yotsuha", he beckoned. "We must make haste."

...

In the basement, as the soldiers who had volunteered to sacrifice themselves to stay behind to delay the Reapers' advancement went about burning classified documents, one man went straight for the ward in which Ezekiel Haikarakainen, son of the CEO of the IGSE, had been kept and interrogated ever since his capture five weeks ago.

There he lay in the immaculately white room, dressed from the neck down entirely in white and cuffed, wrist and ankle, to the bed, an IV drip in each of his arm, one dispensing morphine and the other, saline.

Without so much as a moment of hesitation, the soldier quietly removed the IV bags from the stand and then turned them upside down, hanging the half-filled chambers in the opposite direction. Air travelled down the tubes, through the cannula, and into Ezekiel Haikarakainen's veins.

Within ten minutes, he would be stroke-bound, and Numasawa Castle would be completely overrun.

...




It had been a very long time since Commander Iuzun Nebra had met with Harakiri Haikarakainen; it was rather surprising, then, that the CEO himself had arrived at Iuzun's dark citadel, hewn into the side of a massive shadowy mountain overlooking the ever-cloudy wasteland upon which endless torrents of acidic rain poured day and night (not that there was any significant difference between day and night to begin with).

"Dear Iuzun, it's good to see you again."

As the 61-year-old Harakiri Haikarakainen emerged from his personal ship, a smart, dignified figure in a well-trimmed suit, 84-year-old Iuzun Nebra came out to meet him, hobbling forwards on his walking stick.

"How long has it been since the Great War?" Iuzun asked half-rhetorically, looking up at his significantly taller boss. "Nine years?"

"Nine years", Haikarakainen affirmed, savouring the fresh, controlled air of Iuzun's HQ's interior, cleansed of the toxins outside. "Nine years since Dar Brexit chose to join our side. Nine years since we crushed the Chimaera for good."

Iuzun nodded darkly.

The two soon entered a tea room, whereupon Haikarakainen dismissed the guards and then proceeded to lock the doors to the room.

"I have to discuss a couple of things with you, Iuzun", he said, sitting down by the table and warmly accepting a cup of tea offered to him by the old elf. "Pertaining, as you have probably guessed..."

"... to the IGSE's future leadership succession", Iuzun completed the sentence.

Haikarakainen smiled.

"You see", he said quietly, sipping from the teacup, "I'm suffering from quite a number of diseases, unfortunately, and I think it's about high time I put myself down. It's never really been my goal to live forever. But I've lived long enough to see peace brought to the Multiverse, and I trust the rest of this organisation to finish the job for me."

"You restructured the entire organisation just before the war with the Grand Alliance", Iuzun pointed out. "You merged the many arms of the IGSE into the Military Arm and the Research Arm. You had Ayevaku Yangau executed after Lam Jih-yeung perfected the ghoulification process.

"Now it's time for you to rest."

Haikarakainen, putting down his teacup, coughed into his arm.

"Now, the issue here is succession", he continued, refilling his teacup for himself. "Anthony was never part of the picture, even before he died, and now that Ezekiel's a vegetable, there's only Isaiah. And I don't trust Isaiah. He takes after Thero too much."

"Thero was useful while he lived", Iuzun commented.

"That may have been so", Haikarakainen replied, "but he was also a pervert and a maniac. As Director of Intelligence, he did his job well, but I am disappointed in his performance in that he ultimately allowed his fetishes and infatuations to get the better of him. Let's not forget that he spent the last one month of his life playing silly colosseum games locked away in some faraway world. Were it not for Andropov, I don't think we could even have gathered the information we needed to make that gamble against Koizumi during the battle."

"Isaiah is also crazy, but I believe that unlike Thero, he can separate his work from his fantasies", Iuzun replied, opening a box of sakura daifukus and munching on one. "I understand that he may not be the most reliable of people, but I believe that I, along with Brexit and Nu, can control his worst excesses and keep him in check for as long as we are alive."

Haikarakainen fell silent. He slowly reached for the daifukus, but stopped just short of taking one for himself. Iuzun peered at him curiously, and made to hand the IGSE CEO one, but Haikarakainen simply raised his hand in polite refusal, casting a smile at Iuzun.

"I trust your judgement", he finally said to Iuzun at last. He glanced out of the window, at the pitch-black clouds showering deadly acid upon the world below. "But there's just one request that I would like to make before I leave for good."

"Hm?"

Haikarakainen leaned in.

"Do not, under any circumstances, reveal the existence of the Burzum to Isaiah."

...

"What do you mean, Ezekiel is in critical condition??? What the fuck do you mean, 'Mission Failed'???"

The retinue of senior IGSE military officers who had come to report the outcome of the mission to the 28th Director of Intelligence were, as expected, greeted to a bestial flurry of verbal and physical abuse as the half-crazed Isaiah Haikarakainen, 30 years old, clutching a naginata, began screaming in insane, primal anger, slicing up the furniture in his room and intermittently collapsing to his knees and chewing violently on the carpet.

"I fucking told you useless shits that I wanted Yotsuha Ikegami brought to me in chains and Ezekiel rescued alive", he screeched, crawling over to where the five terrified officers stood and pointing the naginata at one of them. "But she escaped! She fucking escaped!

"And what of Ezekiel? My poor, poor brother... He's a goddamn carrot now! You stupid fucks murdered him with your in-com-pe-tence!!! YOU FUCKING RETARDS!!!"

"Sir", one of the senior officers said anxiously, clearly fearing for his life, "we were not provided the resources or information to-"

"SHUT UP!" Isaiah shrieked, releasing a barrage of incoherent animal noises that reverberated through the room and tearing off his own clothes. "SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!"

"I miss Commander Brexit already", one of the officers murmured.

Isaiah Haikarakainen's cat-like ears picked up the comment, and in an instant, drunk in psychotic rage, he turned his naginata on the five officers, and fifteen minutes later, his once pristine office was drenched in blood. He stood in the middle, breathing heavily, and then, when he had sufficiently calmed down, dropped the naginata and, clothes bloodied and filthy, slowly walked out of the office, stepping over the officers' bodies, and then entered the next room.

There, lay his elder brother, Ezekiel Haikarakainen, in a vegetative state, his eyes staring out blankly into the distance. In the other corner of the room was a large tank, in which hung a gruesome set of human remains preserved in formaldehyde, the mangled brain separated from its cranium and suspended within a second tank of formaldehyde within the large tank. On a tray sitting in front of the tank, sealed with an airtight cover, lay forty-eight small calibre bullets, presumably taken from the mangled body.

"Goddamn it", Isaiah Haikarakainen gurgled, his long hair falling across his face and covering his eyes as he took a seat before the tank, "I haven't masturbated in four hours. No wonder I'm so angry."

...




Interdimensional Hotel

Image


Twenty years of all-out war, first between the IGSE and the now defunct Chimaera, and then between the IGSE and the Grand Alliance which it subsequently crushed, had left the once bustling Interdimensional Hotel in a state of unsettling, lingering silence. The spirits residing in the Hotel, in the midst of the two decade long chaos, had all but disappeared, driven out by the industrial powers that tore through the nexus between the dimensions and left lachrymose trails of ruin in their wake, and the mysterious ones who presided over the Hotel had closed off a great number of the doors, leaving it only a quiet, peaceful shadow of what it used to be.

That did not stop the bolder members of the multiverse power balances from making use of the conveniences of the Hotel, as they often did; to open a portal and walk from one door to another tended to be a lot easier than arranging for escorts to blast through space with portal drives and manual doorway creation and whatnot.

Those who were magically-inclined, of course, could tell that the patience of the deep powers that kept the Hotel in existence was beginning to run dry. There was hardly anything that could be done, except to tread more carefully and simply hope that whatever lay beneath the gilded walls remained calm enough not to disrupt the fragile order brought about by the IGSE's newfound hegemony.

...

Image
General
Dar Brexit
"Axe of the Dark"

Chief of the IGSE Military Arm
(Former Chief Strategist of the Chimaera)


The presence of the tenebrous figure of Dar Brexit, shrouded in black, dissipated the luminous golden aura of the Hotel's corridors as he slowly walked down the rows, casting brief, dismissive glances at the labels on the doors, indicating the name and details of the dimensions lying on the other end. Where he walked, the light receded, much like how a candle flame dissipated the blackness of a dark room, except reversed.

Traitor! Traitor! Traitor!

Some could argue that Brexit, having led the IGSE to near-total victory against his former employers and then against the Grand Alliance led by Koizumi, had earned his right to wander aimlessly through the halls of the Hotel. Brexit himself, on the other hand, having conquered all who possessed the power to challenge him, had merely relegated such menial tasks as the crushing of minor insurrections to his underlings and to people like the trigger-happy Iuzun Nebra, the Chief of the Research Arm, spending his unofficial "retirement" practising, in acts of sheer and utter defiance, the darkest of arts in the holiest of places as the Hotel.

Evidently, his practice of forbidden magic had awakened the wrath of one of the Hotel's silent, unseen rulers, and in the midst of a cursed ritual that Brexit had begun to perform in the halls, one of the doors flew open, and the Axe of the Dark was cast forcefully out of the halls with meteoric rage, hurled upon the empty Dimension 196 and then blasted with pillars of holy fire that tore apart the grass and the earth.

As Brexit's screams fell silent and he lay in his crater, stuporous, the door linking Dimension 196 to the Hotel was torn open and then slammed shut, and from the explosion of white light came a small, imposing figure shrouded in majestic, iridescent haloes.

"Ha... ha ha... ha ha ha... Ha! Ha! HA! HA!"

The 66-year-old, grey-skinned Brexit, wiping the blood from his mouth and staggering to his feet, gurgled at first, spitting out the dust that he had swallowed. And then his bestial gurgles morphed first into low chuckles, and then into manic cackles of warped, perverted triumph.

"So it seems my little hobbies have attracted the attention of the loggionisti", he groaned, standing up tall and facing down the figure who had cast him out of the Hotel. "How does it feel, Granir? That the Deep Gods themselves can be challenged by a mere mortal??"

Image
Granir
"The Cursed"

One of the Five Gods of the Hotel


"Silence, Brexit", the God Granir replied, pointing downwards at the dark figure rising from the crater. "You are but a mortal, intoxicated on the dark forces you have only begun to understand. I have seen eternity before you were born. My suggestion to you would be to retire to a farm and live out the rest of your days lest you awaken less forgiving gods than me. Gods who would cast you to the deepest pits of the abyss for your treachery against your old masters."

"The Chimaera betrayed me; it was only fair that I betrayed them", said Brexit. "I will not be betrayed."

"Perhaps now would be a good time for you to repent", Granir said, "before your soul is cast into eternal death."

"Make no mistake", Brexit replied, his throat clogged with phlegm, "I am well aware that the inferno awaits me."

"So be it". Granir replied with a smirk.

Brexit, having said all he wished to say, brought his hands together and with a grunt, cast a massive bolt of dark energy at Granir, who took the blast directly and fell straight to the ground, smashing through the ground and then emerging from the dust in the form of an ibex, charging towards Brexit. The man attempted to charge up another attack, but was rammed by the ibex in the belly and, having taken the powerful shot, was thrown backwards violently, coughing out copious amounts of black blood before crashing down upon the grass and skidding across the ground, only to stand up again with little more than a shredded back. Where his black robes had been burned off his back, his dark aura rose once again from the ground and covered the lacerations on his back.

The ibex was suddenly engulfed in light, and then from the light came Granir, now in his human form once again, wielding a glaive that bore wings of ominous light upon its blade. From the darkness that shrouded him, Brexit drew out an axe fashioned out of the dark energy he had worked hard to harness, hardened into the form of a hatchet, but as he extended the axe an attempt to block the blade, Granir pounced, and the next moment, Brexit had fallen, his body broken into two, lain upon the grass like the trampled carcass of a hyena.
Last edited by Nagakawa on Mon May 20, 2019 2:48 am, edited 1 time in total.
If you run, you gain one, but if you move forward, you gain two.

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The Palmetto
Negotiator
 
Posts: 5216
Founded: Feb 05, 2017
Ex-Nation

Postby The Palmetto » Sat May 18, 2019 9:28 pm

L-Fel

San Francisco

“A neutral land trying to protect itself from two much larger powers? Truth be told, I have no issue violating “sovereignty” of lines on a map when it must be done to crush evil. But it sounds like your country is just trying to avoid mindless carnage while two empires fight for no particular reason, am I right? My best wishes go to your nation. Once we’re done dragging the people who run L-Fel through the street, it would be my honor to help your people,” Aestus replied to Yrjo, speaking with disgust about the conflict Yrjo had mentioned.

Aestus came from a world where nationalism was only starting to exist, and until incredibly recently, the closest things to nation-states were feudal kingdoms. Most wars were over resources at best, but sometimes men would be sent to die just so their kingdoms would look better on a map. These sort of pointless feudal wars were one of the many reasons the planet had been engulfed in revolution, not many peasants enjoyed conscription or bloodshed. Aestus wasn’t against violent conflict if for a good cause, and a part of him enjoyed his part to play in the brutal revolution. He certainly couldn’t claim to be a pacifist. However, he saw war over resources and the like one of the lowest forms of human conflict.

Hearing that he, Jules, and Terasaka were to remain behind, Aestus felt a bit excluded. He was perhaps the most powerful individual in that group, excluding whatever Cass had up their sleeves, and he was just doing nothing. He understood that the mission required stealth, but regardless, felt he should be doing something. He decided not to complain, and just to accept it for the time being.

“I wouldn’t mind grabbing some tea. I’ll just do the usual and say I’m wearing a costume."

Hospital

“Well, sure is nice of those buggers to fix up all that timey wimey stuff. Isaac was around in my world too, but he’s as dead as a tourist in a spider pit,” Irwin said with a chuckle. Historical figures as time travellers? He’d already given up, and he figured for good reason. Might as well pretend this all makes sense than try to point out all the weird stuff.

“Hold on laddie, I’ve got to take a piss,” Irwin said, scurrying off. Stubbornly refusing to ask for any assistance, it took him some time to find a bathroom. By the time he found it, he was downstairs in one of the shops, and finally relieved himself. He noticed a small group of people, and thinking they were about as out of place as he was, wondered if they were associated with Ackermann’s thing. (Even if mentally, he wasn’t going to try and pronounce “Zaetgeschlager”)

“I’m Irwin, and I don’t know about you all, but I gothere thanks to some portal. You ever heard of a gal called Ackermann, and the people she works with? You all look about as out of place as I do,” He asked the group.
Last edited by The Palmetto on Sat May 18, 2019 10:08 pm, edited 1 time in total.
A rowdy redneck from South Carolina who tries to RP every now and again.
"That rifle on the wall of the labourer's cottage or working class flat is the symbol of democracy. It is our job to see that it stays there."

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Nagakawa
Diplomat
 
Posts: 992
Founded: May 01, 2019
Scandinavian Liberal Paradise

Postby Nagakawa » Sat May 18, 2019 11:31 pm

L-Fel
Iowa


"So I was wonderin'; what exactly are we gonna do once all these shenanigans are over?"

"DO YOU THINK IT WILL EVER END?"

"It's gonna end soon, believe me, and when it does, we gonna go on a long holiday, and it's gonna be yuuuge."

"Ah, fuck, I'm cravin' for a Diet Coke. They didn't have any in that store."

"Hm? I have never seen a thin person drinking Diet Coke."

"NOW THAT YOU MENTION IT... STEFFEN ISN'T THIN ANYMORE! HE'S GROWN A LITTLE BIT THICC THE PAST TWENTY YEARS!"

"Oi, shut the fuck up, Gönad. I'm not the one wearing a fuckin' hentai shirt."

Amidst the casual banter, Henry was digging into a slice of layer cake he had bought from the convenience store when he saw a rather odd-looking man walking past to the toilet. Not a weird person per se, but definitely different from the other faceless people going about their daily lives elsewhere in this world. Satoshi, Steffen, and Gönad were still busy drinking the self-made grapefruit cocktail, and were oblivious to the man's presence.

"Hello there", he replied the man, who had struck up a conversation with him. Rubbing his hand across his now bald crown, Henry looked at Irwin, wide-eyed, as he mentioned a very familiar name. The chunk of layer cake on his plastic fork stopped just short of his lips.

"Ackermann??"

Satoshi, Steffen, and Gönad all stopped chugging on their homemade grapefruit cocktail and turned to look at Henry and Irwin.

"Wait, you know Ackermann?" Henry asked, the chunk of layer cake on his fork disintegrating and landing back in the box. He stopped for a moment, still grasping for words, blinking furiously and making a halfhearted attempt to stab back at the layer cake as he leaned forward and looked Irwin in the eye. "Where is she? Is she in this world too? How do you know her?"

Chieko and Xiao-song, standing at a corner, slowly headed back to join the rest upon noticing the man joining the conversation.

...

"Hello?"

"Steffen, slight change of plans."

Covering his mouth to stop the background noises from going through, Steffen Lunes stood up and shuffled away from Henry and the rest, to a corner free of people.

"Numasawa has been compromised", came the crackly, distorted voice of Steffen's contact within the yakuza. "Right now, the Niijimagumi is making its escape. We're changing the rendezvous point to Kanegi, in Dimension 50. For the time being, protect Lam Jih-yeung's thesis, and let us know if you spot any more reapers."

"Alright, got it."

"Also, I am correct to assume, as per Mera's update, that Trump Card is with you now, yes?"

"Yep."

"The Boss wants to speak to him. Get him to come."

"Aight."

...
Last edited by Nagakawa on Sun May 19, 2019 4:59 am, edited 3 times in total.
If you run, you gain one, but if you move forward, you gain two.

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Korhal IVV
Senator
 
Posts: 3910
Founded: Aug 29, 2015
Ex-Nation

Postby Korhal IVV » Sun May 19, 2019 6:18 am

Shadows of the Empire
Coruscanr


The last blaster bolts went off near the Coruscant Museum as Draech bodily took hold of the last remaining First Order operative that was assaulting the Terran landing force. The man held his E-11 blaster rifle desperately as he shot at the Shadowblade soul construct with utter feae and desperation in his eyes, the red bolts harmlessly bouncing off the Shadowblade’s shields.

“How annoying.”, the Shadowblade muttered as the enemy operative opened fire to no avail. “Consider yourself lucky that I have been ordered to keep one of you fools alive.”, he said as his cold, mechanical hands held the fanatic by the throat up in the air. Around them lay six more First Order members, their bodies cut up in different and creative ways that only the disembodied mind of an eldritch war machine like the Shadowblade could conjure. One had a seemingly unharmed body, until one decides to check on his head, which had a perfect, burning hole on the top that extended all the way down; Draech had stabbed his blade from the top of his cadaver. Another was completely without limbs, as Draech was a creative killer and warrior and had for some reason decided to make a sculpture without arms and legs. The other four had their hands cut off, and their faces were unrecognizable as Draech has applied brutal pressure on them with his hand, crushing their heads to a pulp.

“You will come with me.”, Draech said as the frigate hovered above them, and a blue light shone from the vessel, transporting them inside. They would be teleported inside the ship’s hallways, and the first person they would see was a Haeresi Warlock.

“Ah, perfect timing.”, Draech said as the Warlock gave a low bow.

“Yes, I know.”, the Warlock replied as Draech wrenched away the E-11 from the man’s hand. “Give him to me.”, he said before tapping the terrorist’s forehead with his palm, causing him to fall into a deep sleep. Handing him over, Draech would then muse about how another Terran fleet appeared in the system’s fringe along with the Solar Dragons.

“And I heard that the Grand Admiral and the Commander are comrades and friends, no?”

“Obviously.”, the Warlock said as he carried the unconscious man to an interrogation room.

The Solar Defender

“It isssssss you, Grand Admiral!”, Commander Ahijah said excitedly as his old comrade stepped out of an airlock that connected the Andromeda and the Solar Defender. “My, you still look the same after all these years…”

“And so do you, Commander.”, the purple clad Yi Sun-shin replied as he gave a slight chuckle. “So, what news from the homeland?”, he asked.

“Well, about that…”, Ahijah hesitated as he scratched the back of his head. “Can we discuss that over a cup of tea or something?”

“I am sensing something foreboding… but yes, a cup of tea would be welcome.”, the Grand Admiral answered as they walked together towards the private quarters of the commander within the Solar Defender. Minutes passed, and soon enough, they were seated across a table in the VIP mess hall alongside the officers in the Solar Defender.

“So,”, Yi began. “What has gotten you all here?”

“Well… it is a very long story.”, Ahijah replied not very reassuringly. “To make things short, a very powerful enemy called the Swarm attacked our universe several centuries after you disappeared. Every single galactic group was consumed except for ours, and our united forces in the Intergalactic Alliance managed to keep a static defense for many years before the barrier broke, and everything that didn’t flee in ships outfitted in multiverse drives would be consumed by the Swarm. I was sent by the Federation in exile to search you out, but it seems that we will be staying here for a while.”

Yi’s eyes widened at that news. He wasn’t prepared to hear that his beloved Federation would be reduced to a large migrant fleet. In shock, he fell back to his chair, clenching his chest. “That is… shocking.”, he said with apprehension as his blood pressure rose. “How about my clan in Earth? Are they safe?”

“They were priority evacuees. They are safe.”

“That is a relief.”, Yi said as he sipped his iced milktea while slightly shaking. “Say, would you want to meet my new friends in this galaxy?”

“Oh, whoever might they be???”
ABTH Music Education ~ AB Journalism ~ RPer ~ Keyboard Warrior ~ Futurist ~ INTJ

Economic Left/Right: -0.13
Social Libertarian/Authoritarian: 0.21
Supports: Christianity, economic development, democracy, common sense, vaccines, space colonization, and health programs
Against: Adding 100 genders, Gay marriage in a church, heresy, Nazism, abortion for no good reason, anti-vaxxers, SJW liberals, and indecency
This nation does reflect my real-life beliefs.
My vocabulary is stranger than a Tzeentchian sorceror. Bare with me.

"Whatever a person may be like, we must still love them because we love God." ~ John Calvin

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Slenderman The CreepyPasta King
Postmaster-General
 
Posts: 10939
Founded: Jan 11, 2014
Ex-Nation

Postby Slenderman The CreepyPasta King » Sun May 19, 2019 12:35 pm

Dakoolon
After the corosaunt police took the terrorists Dakoolon stopped from getting away, the Sith force sprinted to the space port since the speeder he stole/commandeered got destroyed.

Ben
As Ben was cuffed and was being walked out of the room by armed guards, he was suddenly uncuffed and behind a person wearing a lab coat, back in the council room. Feeling like he did before he investigated the rift that brought Ben to the universe he was currently in. Looking down at the omnitrix he also saw that it was recharged. So he decided to transform into something that could maneuver its way through a fight if it was required, terraspin, and selected it’s hologram before pressing down on the dial.
“Ah Hex, Archer, it’s a pleasure to see you two again.” The figure said in a British accent as Ben transformed behind him. “Or have we yet to meet? Time travel makes remembering who you met and yet to meet all mixed up.”

Paradox? What are you doing here? No, scratch that, I know you won’t answer that. Why are you here?” Ben asked after transforming into terraspin in a deep, bored sounding voice. Terraspin is a giant bipedal turtle with wind turbine holes in its chest where it could pump out air and wind at high speeds and pressure.

“All in good time Ben.” Paradox replied.

“Why do I even try to ask you questions again.” Terraspin muttered.
Last edited by Slenderman The CreepyPasta King on Sun May 19, 2019 2:57 pm, edited 10 times in total.
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