4078/Under Black Flags We March

Under Black Flags We March
Date of Scene:	06 May 2016
Location:	Remnant <REM>
Synopsis:	What happens when DEATH METAL comes to Remnant? A whole lot of pain and suffering. That's what.
Thanks to:	Drowned Ophelia for being the best Antagonist a theme could have.
Cast of Characters:	Sanary Rondel, 778, 782, Yang Xiao Long, 975

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Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
It began as a nice day in the Vale; Sun's bright and yellow in the saphire blue sky, with faint wisps of clouds adding artistic streaks to the serene scene. It's a day for picnics, wandering with friends, or just sitting up somewhere high and enjoying the fresh air. It's hard to remember, in times like these, that the world of Remnant belongs to the Grimm. Oh, there are humans; Trapped in their four city prisons. Oh they're pretty, and large, and you can fly from one to the other, but prisons none the less. A cage of walls, tech and Dust to hide the light of humanity from the enroaching darkness.

Still, its peaceful enough. Cargo ships rise and dip on occasion from the docks, the fat bellied things graceful as fat pigeons while they jockey around the light air traffic that's quite normal for Vale. And then? And then, something unusual happens. Traffic tower begins sqwaking protests as a large, black ship moves in from the coast. It hangs high in the air, the color of black carapace punctuated by blood red lines. Fat, curved blades brutally chop at the air, straining to hold the mechanical monstrosity in the air, every angle over blown to end in sharp, razored spikes. A non-VTOL craft? That hasn't been in use for -DECADES-, and yet here one is, full of edges like someone decided a thorn bush needed to fly. And on it's belly? A large, square container - black, of course.

"Maybe it's from Mistral?" Asks one bystander idly, while the Hatredcopter whump-whump-whumps overhead.

Yang Xiao Long has posed:
    BEACON ACADEMY

    Yang was just walking from class, heading off to meet some friends, since her Teammates split up to do their own things. Teams are usually inseparable, but even the best friends need time away from each other. The telltale whudding chopping sound of the aircraft gets her attention, lilac eyes turning skywards, before narrowing. "Hey Ochre? Is your Bullhead ready to fly?" she asks one of her friends, as she runs from the courtyard to the locker room, starting to change into her normal clothes and getting Ember Celica out of her locker, ready. "Good, meet me at the airport... I've got a bad feeling about that big black aircraft."

Sanary Rondel has posed:
It had to be an aircraft. It just... Had to be another freaking aircraft. What's with everyone's obsession with flying vehicles, anyway? Sure, it's convenient, and it gets a lot of things moving at once without requiring everyone or everything inside to know how to fly, but...

     ... Well. Sanary just answered her own question there, didn't she? That doesn't mean she has to like being trapped inside that thing. Still, she has her job to do, and the best she can hope for is to not see any familiar faces or encounter too much resistance. Thankfully, Beacon is only vaguely familiar in passing, and it's not like she's ever met anyone from Beacon before, right?

     Well, except that one girl. But what are the odds of that happening?

Kyle Katarn (778) has posed:
    For unremarked reasons, Kyle just HAPPENS to have been on his way to the school. Again, /reasons./ He's just out of the warp gate astride a speeder bike when he spies the Hatredcopter over the air. "...guess that's what it was." He's been having a niggling feeling in the Force all morning, so this is all that he needs to know the answer to that question.

    He speeds off towards the flying vehicle, keeping distance for the moment as he gets a good look, both with eyes and the Force itself.

Golden (782) has posed:
    What a dreary place. Not that Golden has much room to complain, given that his own world is nothing but dust and echoes now. Sure, the people were a bit... odd, but he can't blame the locals for thinking a small metal thing with limbs is a bit odd. So the digimon is sitting on the airship docks, waiting for the ship out of here to arrive, snoozing lightly on a convenient bench.
    Then there's commotion and people being loud, waking him up. Golden glances towards the direction people are looking. OH the joys of being short. He grumps about the view and makes his way towards some place he can get a good view of the incoming black ship.

Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
The Hatredcopter tilts its nose up, wallowing with the weight of it's cargo as it turns slowly about. Utterly ignoring the dock crew below trying to wave it off; NO ROOM! NO ROOM! There is a deep *clunk*, and the crew goes scrambling as the box drops. Landing with a heart stopping -=THUD=- right atop of a few other containers, flattening them utterly as debris pings and flies aside. Metal groans and shifts like a beast in pain as it settles, with loud pings of stress.

Meanwhile, the Hatredcopter's side opens, the whump-whump-whump of blades lowering an octave as it settles near the ground to allow Sanary to disembark. Ditch and run technique. The pilot? .. What else? A cackling skeleton in a pilot's jumpsuit, reflective visor turned towards the healer as it points wordlessly out. And goes back to cackling madly to itself. Once she disembarks, the blades will whine back up to speed and it'll take off like a shot.

Meanwhile, the large, black box remains silently where it was. A monolith of mystery! A slow, quiet steam begins to hiss out of the seams, before the sides shudder.

Yang Xiao Long has posed:
VALE AIRSHIP DOCKS

    As the Hatred Coptor flies off, another sound rushes over, the more familiar whine of jet intakes, as a Bullhead comes rushing by, turning hard around as it angles its jets into VTOL mode, and hard lands on an open pad, side panels opening to let Yang out. "Go Ochre, get outta here! Warn the others and bring them if you can!" shouts the Blonde, as she turns to run out to the crowd. "Everyone get to shelter. NOW!" she bellows, firing a single shot into the air to get attention. "Clear the landing port! Security, protect the civilians. That's your priority. Union Elites are enroute and more Huntsmen and Huntresses are coming from Beacon. We'll handle this."

    She then turns back to the giant box, racking the slide on her Gauntlet to cycle in the next shell, eyes narrowing as she approaches closer.

Sanary Rondel has posed:
Oh thank god it's landed. Picking up the solid cube that is her riot shield, Sanary does a quick once-over to make sure everything's in place. Riot shield? Check. Fancy new coat? Check. Shades matching her new coat and badly hiding her eyepatch? Check.

     It's time to make an entrance. Stepping off the Hatredcopter, she knocks on the side of the aircraft once to signal that she's off the thing before turning to survey the area around the box. Some debris, maybe some crew members, a familiar buff blonde approaching and warning people to leave...

     Wait. Familiar? Shit. Of all the people to run into... Well, maybe she won't recognize Sanary in her new getup. She's got shades on, after all! And... Crap. Did she have this shield the last time they met? Well, too late to worry about that now. The healer still has an entrance to make!

     If only she remembered what she was going to say. Crap. Well, maybe she can pull off the 'silent and mysterious' thing if she just stands quietly in front of the box.

Kyle Katarn (778) has posed:
    Kyle doesn't take long to get to the docks, hopping off his speeder as he catches up with Yang. "Got here fast as I could." He asides along the way, grabbing the Bryar from his holster as he moves towards the box. "Who the hell is flying this thing anyways?" He wonders aloud.

    The feelings of despair, grief, sorrow, and all that stuff aren't helping. He thought the Sith were insufferable sometimes, but this is just something ugly all on its own.

Golden (782) has posed:
    Golden glances as the rest of the people flee. While he was with a crowd, he was foot-level with people and semi-hidden by some luggage that had been left at the edge of the large walkway. He turns his attention back to the black thing and the person who got out of the weird helicopter. His green eyes narrow behind the eye-holes of the metal mask. Looks like one of the people who attacked that digimon village once upon a time.
    "Well. That looks like trouble brewing." He mutters to himself. He figures it must be something serious if they're getting people to flee so readily.
    With a grace bizarre to such an odd creature, Golden hops his way down, careening off of struts, supports, and railings without doing damage to them.

Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
As if waiting for the cue of HEROES, the shuddering of the giant black metal box resolves itself into the sound of - drums? The edges bulge outwards, as a guitar growls its way into place - and as the bass kicks off, the sides of the box SLAM outwards, crushing more cargo boxes around them, just barely missing Sanary's heels. And likely making her look even MORE BADASS AND SUPER SERIOUS. Especially if she doesn't look back or jump. Because badasses don't look back, don't you know?

And within the box is - a stage? Lights flare to life, swinging outwards, as fire pots explode on the edge in time to the driving beat. Rippling up to the center, where the main floodlight reveals Drowned Ophelia.
Her head is down, body swaying as she hammers away at the Six Stringed Sorrow. As she picks up tempo, her chin rises, a tight, mad smile on her pallid features. Wake candles flare to life, the air shivering as she unleashes DEATH METAL. Fog rolling off from somewhere back stage, storm clouds flickering and spirling to life above her. And then?
The Drowning Doom marches. Pale, gainly men creep out from back stage, dragging razor sharp shovels after them. Interspersed with a few .. brides? Women in white gowns, eyes glowing behind ghostly veils as they carry umbrellas. Feeding the crackling storm above as it grows in strength.
"Hello, VALE! Are you ready to play in the waters?" Calls Drowned Ophelia, cackling.

And somewhere beyond Vale's walls, the Grimm stir. Heads raise and the challenging sounds issue as they catch the scent - of sorrow. Liquid hate.

Yang Xiao Long has posed:
    Yang brings her fists up, eyes glancing to Sanary with a flicker of recognition... she knows someone with that build and hair... but then, the 'Stage' opens, and she grits her teeth as the music strikes up. "Hey, Kyle? I think this is going to get ugly, really fast... that woman in the middle was in the Emerald Forest a few weeks ago... she was luring the Grimm around like it was some kind of game." she relates, keeping her eyes on the approaching Drowned Doom. "I don't think we're getting any backup, if the Grimm start a Run now... all the Huntsmen and Huntresses available are going to be sent to shore up the wall guards."

Kyle Katarn (778) has posed:
    "Guess we know why." Kyle says with a nod. He eyes the crowd of Drowned Doom, before hearing...music? "Wait, is this a concert or an invasion?" He's very, VERY confused right now, unsure if he should even be pulling weapons right now. "Guess it's on us, huh."

    He holsters his pistol before trying something more diplomatic. "Uhh, hey!" he calls over to the crowd, trying to get their attention. "I know you guys are probably trying to get set up for a show and all, but could you try and pick a different venue? This is really clogging up travel both in and out of the city and all."

    Nice work, Kyle. Very diplomatic. Jackass.

Sanary Rondel has posed:
It's a good thing sanary's got those shades on. Otherwise, people might actually see her eyes twitching sideways at that loud noise behind her! Luckily, shades hide everything, and she doesn't so much as twitch at that box slamming open.

     She just has to hope there's nobody with a particularly strong nose around.

     As Drowned Ophelia appears on stage, the healer unfolds her own cube into its riot shield form, bracing it against her right arm while leaving the left free to... Hang at her side. Anything else would just look weird, really. She doesn't take the first strike nor approach the oncoming defenders, however, apparently intending to stand tall as an obstacle between Drowned Ophelia behind her and Yang, Kyle, and Golden in front of her.

     Or as tall as she can manage, what with only being 5'4". She still remains silent, but her free hand clenches as the air around her legs shimmers a bit with magic ready to prepare for the worst. Yang's look is met with a neutral shades-stare, but Kyle's request actually draws the briefest smirk at the corners of her mouth.

Golden (782) has posed:
    Golden is color coded, much like the Huntsmen and Huntresses; A shining reddish-gold to go with the subtle glow of the sunburst crest etched into his metal mask. He radiates determination and resolve as he trots up to Yang and Kyle from behind; a beacon of courage against all despair. The crestbearer watches as Kyle makes his awkward request. Does that ever work? He facepalms with his one hand and shakes his head-body with a sigh. "That's better than I would have managed." he says to Kyle.
    The electronic noise here interferes with the broken digimon, causing portions of his frame to pixelate out at random intervals. At the moment, Golden is politely waiting to see if hostilities commence.

Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
Like a curling snake, the storm clouds above continue to spiral outwards, thickening even as the sunlight dims even more; Casting the docks into pernatural twilight. Fog spills off the edge of the stage, but doesn't disperse; Rather, it clings and crawls forward, the ground crackling beneath it as a frost begins to build. Of course, it curls around and avoids Sanary; It's a manifestation of DEATH METAL, after all, and she's an ally. For all that means. The pale men - all wearing variations of the same outfit, black shirts with a downard turned ahnk on a falling raven, pause to look at one another when Kyle speaks. After all, they gather in groups so they can express their individuality.
"We're the Doom." One of them states, the other sighing. "This is already too depressing."
"Hey, uh.." Begins one, hefting up the razor edged shovel as it looks at the Jedi with dead white eyes. ".. Can we bury you?" The others perk up at that idea, though none of them actually smile.
And then they attack as one, razor shovels lifting and falling as they try to do nothing less than hack the Jedi to pieces. Others march past, chasing the edge of the storm cloud as it hurries towards the defensive force - and the innocent lives beyond.

One of the Brides, meanwhile, lights its gaze upon Yang. Twirling her parasol for a moment as she hums a little tune; The wedding march. "Didn't my husband cheat on me with you?" She murmurs, turning glowing eyes up towards the storm cloud. As if on cue, electricity begins to arc and hiss along the Six Stringed Sorrow up on stage - and lightning flickers and plays on the clouds above the Bride's head. That's the only warning Yang gets as streaks of white hot pain begin flickering and smashing into the ground, rippling towards her.

Wall sirens begin to sing and cry, somehow in time with the pendelum swing of the Drowning Doom's first song. The air shivers and vibrates as the power grows, metal boxes around beginning to vibrate and act as sounding boards. And the Grimm? The Grimm come, drawn forward towards the walls. Trickles at first, but it'll soon be a flood if something isn't done.

"Time to put out the lights, children, and send them to a bed of dirt." Muses Drowned Ophelia, tendrils of her 'dress' stretching and wavering around her.

Yang Xiao Long has posed:
    Yang grits her teeth. "Y'know, you coulda just said 'no'!" she shouts as the Doom start attacking. She looks at the Bride, and then with a sudden leap of intuition, leaps forwards and does a quick dodgeroll away from the stab of lightening. She tucks, leaps to the left, then kicks off the guard rail. "If your husband looked anything like you? I'd rather sleep with a Beowolf!" she snarls, aiming to bring a lunging right hook into the Bride's midsection, punctuated by the shotgun blast of one of her melee-shells at point blank range.

    The Security guards form a line, blocking the way to the civilians and leveling Dust Rifles at the approaching Gravediggers. They open fire, sending Dust-enhanced bullets into the throng, while slowly backing away, trying to give the civilians more time to get away from the docks.

Kyle Katarn (778) has posed:
    "Okay that didn't work." Kyle immediately draws his lightsaber, and given how close he is to the Doom he's probably going to rack up a massive body count. It's what they had in mind in return, so there's no reason to hold back.

    His lightsaber moves faster than the eye can track, Kyle's movements aided by the Force in both speed and precision while his energy blade burns through undead flesh. After the initial flurry of strikes, Kyle sends off a Force Push to send the others bowling over themselves.

    "No burial for me today, thank you!"

Sanary Rondel has posed:
A Digimon, too? A familiar one, too, but from where...? The village, maybe? Or... Wait. Was he the one that ate the thing? Well, Sanary can't worry too much about details like that now. There's Elites in front of her, Drowned Ophelia and her big box of minions is doing something behind and around her, said minions are going around her to engage said Elites... It's time for the healer to do her job as a healer, then!

     All without moving, of course. Even with that fog moving around her and the sirens wailing behind her, Sanary stands firm! She's already starting to get used to playing up today's stoic defender image, too, so she might as well go all the way with it. Although the black-clad healer doesn't move an inch, green wisps of light start flowing out of her towards the pale men engaging Kyle and the Bride firing at Yang. On contact, a 'link' will form connecting them to Sanary, granting them direct access to her own energy reserves as well as a boost to their natural healing! If they have any, that is.

     If nothing else? It might be a helpful distraction with so many unnatural lights lights pointing towards someone who may or may not be doing something dangerous.

Golden (782) has posed:
    Golden seems to have been ignored for now. He looks around as battle swirls around the stage and indeed the entire city-state. Indecision was never a problem with the digimon. Go right for the throat.
    He starts running, surprisingly fast in spite his tiny size, straight for Sanary, the gun arm beginning to glow as it spins up. He jumps, apparently straight for the be-shaded black-clad Sanary. Only to plant his feet on her and use her to jump high and forward across the stage. The arm cannon lights up, shooting barrages of red-yellow spheres of explosive energy about the stage as he somersaults. He could be in for some trouble when he lands, but Golden will figure that out when he gets there.
    Like some kind of hero, Golden points the cannon towards Drowned Ophelia and shouts in a voice that seems a thousand times bigger than the little digimon. "Stop this at once!" More bits of him are blocky in contrast to the more 'real' form, cycling rapidly through configurations of pixels. Being this close to a massive electrical disturbance doesn't seem to be doing Golden any favors. The crest glows with the light of a dawning sun now, lines spreading from it across the Metal Mamemon's body as the glitching worsens.

Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
Dust enhanced bullets rip and tear into the approaching GraveDigger line - and go right through, splattering flesh and black ichor? But like all that the Sea of Black Tears creates, the frailty of the GraveDiggers is their strength as well. Their soft bodies offer almost no resistance to the bullets; It makes them stagger, but they press on - some even without the tops of their skulls. They're metal fans, they weren't using that part anyways. Quite a few fall of course - only to be cursed as 'posers' before their brethern continue to close with the defensive line. It was a stalemate - until Sanary's healing keeps the Freaks alive longer. It's only the police's steadfast withdraw and reform firing technique that's held the enroaching Doom off so far.

The same goes true for the creatures that Kyle slices; Neither weapon or flesh offer much of a resistance to the lightsaber, which fells huge chunks from the undead infantry. The jedi push doing it's job of pushing a wedge through the line, sending GraveDiggers down in a tangle of limbs and a clank of shovels. But for those that aren't -destroyed- - only missing limbs - hands grab for ankles, along with hissing calls of 'Looooooooser' and 'Nerd'. It's the worse of three worlds; Emo, undead, and snarky. It doesn't help that Sanary's lines of energy snap into the creatures - tainted bodies beginning to knit themselves back together.

The bride is pummeled by Yang, yowling in a soft and miserable voice as she collapses like a wilting flower. Crying softly as she calls for someone to save her; The answer? Yang gets Head.
... A DISEMBODIED HEAD, not the sexual type! A wirey bundle of cord-like hair that scrabbles like some dark twist on a spider, with a snarling head at it's core. The hair, like barbwire, whips and thrashes as the FrightWig tries to drive Yang back. The Bride still crying softly to itself, as lightning continues to crackle and build above it.

And things are beginning to get -cold-. Ice forming along the ground, freezing fog crawling up containers and limbs alike if one isn't careful. The Drowning Doom, of course, do not seem to mind the chill at all. The storm cloud has fully formed, and spreads in waves, centered about the stage. A massive, bleak bell clangs out a sorrowful tune to drown out the wail of paniced sirens when Golden attacks the stage itself - Matched only by the distant thud and crash of Grimm being handled by Hunters and Huntresses, and the wall defenses. Drowned Ophelia reaches the apex of her piece, holding the last note as it throbs - but the music continues unabated, shivering the in air, DEATH METAL summoned to this place. Her pale features turn towards the digimon, as she laughs. "The show has to go on, don't you know? Don't worry - once I'm done, no one in this pitiful little cage will have to worry about the Grimm ever again.." And then her eyes light on the sun emblem. Flicker back up to Golden, the frail visage shattered into a look of absolute -hate-. "YOU." She spits, jerking her hand forward. "YOU'RE WITH -HIM-". Roiling liquid launches forward, suddenly solidifying into claws as it tries to pierce and swipe the digimon off stage - and into the growing mob below.

Kyle Katarn (778) has posed:
    "Seriously?" Kyle wonders as he begins to hear the insults. "Kids these days, no respect." He notices the bodies are knitting back together, before he realizes there's a healer of some sort on their team. For now, all he can do is stem the tide.

    He flings his lightsaber towards a pack of the throng, his blue bladed weapon spinning like a deadly boomerang as it splits zombie after zombie in half, then extinguishes and returns to his grasp. It reignites with that familiar, shrill hiss, and Kyle tries to split another of the zombies in half without missing a beat.

    "We're getting bogged down, these guys are coming back together faster than we can drop 'em!"

Yang Xiao Long has posed:
    The Security force aren't Police... but they get backup soon enough. The Civilians have to do this on occasion, especially when a bad Grimm Run happens, so instead of a panicked mess, it's relatively organized, compared to other mod evacuations. This clears the way for what was available to backup the Huntress and her Elite allies. A single squad van with about ten guys inside. Four with riot shields and electric batons, and six with a mix of shotgun and rifle. They back the security guard's line up, and with the shield wall, slam back into the throng, shoving them back against themselves with jolts of electricity from the batons for good measure.

    Yang, herself, has to now fend off a very angry head monster. She's not used to this, and is held off well enough that the Bride could likely recover herself and start the shock dance all over again... but the FrightWig has to /hit/ Yang to keep her fended... and that's something that even the most powerful fighter makes the mistake of.

    The Blonde is getting angry, burning rage building up with each whip against her Aura, tearing cuts in her arms that seal quickly under the boiling orange-yellow light as she's forced back, step after step, until she ROARS defiance, and with the sound of grinding steel and the horrigying wet SHLURK of her arm being shredded by the mass of hair, she GRABS the FrightWig by the face, and turns. Eyes settle on Sanary in the background. "I think it's time we got AHEAD of this situation!" she quips, then with a cocking of her arm back, she FIRES the FrightWig, with a shotgun blast, right at Sanary!

Sanary Rondel has posed:
Sanary grunts lightly as she's suddenly beset by the golden... Golden, somehow managing to stand firm even as he jumps right off of her. Her focus is still on maintaining those lines of power, but she does start channelling another line of energy towards Drowned Ophelia when she sees those shots being fired towards her ally.

     Unlike the ones reaching into the GraveDiggers and the Bride, however, this line is snaking through the ground and reaching upwards to connect to Drowned Ophelia. The backup can't steal the show, after all, and a green light line coming out of the star would just look extremely weird.

     Besides, it's not like there isn't a spectacle to watch. Laser swords cutting through a mass of those weird shovel fighters, lightning wife's head... Or whatever she is getting launched straight at her...

     Oh. Shit. Turning to face Yang and the FrightWig properly, Sanary braces the shield again as she catches the combined FrightWig and shotgun blast directly. She digs her feet into the ground to avoid being pushed too far back, although the sheer force of that blast still sends her skidding back several feet.

     Resist making quips. Resist making quips. She's got an image to maintain! Taking a deep breath, the healer starts channelling energy into the air around her as several gray bricks start to form. Five, then ten, then twenty come into existence, and they begin swirling around in the air above her. Sanary raises her eyebrows briefly at Yang as some sort of pun substitute...?

     And then they're launched straight at her like a swarm of... Well, bricks. Steel-like bricks with jagged corners and all!

Golden (782) has posed:
    Golden is surprised by the awful black goo that grabs and tears at his gold chrome digizoid frame, and is quickly swept off his feet. He tears a long gouge in the stage with his metal battle claw as he tries to get purchase somewhere. This isn't working though! The cannon-arm waves wildly as a low electrical hum bursts onto the noisy scene, causing wild magnetic distortions (and possibly overloads) in any eletrical equipment that gets hit with the powerful magnetic beam. He can't see where he's aiming, so the wild flailing is going to have to do. If he finds a metal object to latch onto, he will. Not a guarantee that said object will be strong enough to hold him against the grasping darkness.
    He's gonna try pushing Ophelia's buttons, in spite of how hilariously outclassed he is. "I'M SURE HE'S A LOT NICE THAN YOU!" he shouts defiantly at Ophelia.

Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
The defensive line holds; GraveDiggers pressing against it, clanging chunks out of riot shields with razored shovels, but the defense was designed against Grimm; Creatures a lot stronger than an low infantry member of the Drowning Doom. Stalemate once more. As Yang burns and turns the FrightWig into a head-long (heh) rush at Sandary, the Bride quietly straightens back to her feet. Glowing eyes turning towards the defensive line, even as she spins her parasol and floats quietly towards it. "Boys, O boys.." She calls, giggling in a ghostly whisper. "I'm heeere.." Lightning crackles and flares above her, and for a moment it looks like she's ready to burst through-
And then Ophelia stops playing. The music hammers on, of course; Maintaining. But the storm cloud grows no further, and the undead turn listless. Still dangerous - pressing at Kyle once again, but no longer organized. The FrightWig bouncing off Sanary's shield to thump on the ground, then scuttle off into the milling crowd. The defensive line of Vale's taking the opportunity to shove forward, pushing the advancing Doom back, even as fog curdles over riot shields and under boots with the occasional pained cry.

Speakers sqwak and squeal as Golden's electromagnetic blast hits them, one light sparking and going dim above him. One can -see- the storm lessening suddenly, but Ophelia pays it no mind. Gliding slowly towards the digimon, even as the Six Stringed Sorrow dissipates in her hands. Inky blackness crawling up her arms, leaving her claws sharp and poised. "Did he send you?" She hisses, ichor trickling from her eyes. "Can't he let me have -this one thing-? NO, no, of course not. He's got to ruin THIS too, doesn't he? He can't let me have -anything-. I'm going to kill him.." She begins, before she points that clawed finger towards Golden. ".. But I'm going to kill you first."
And then she's lashing forward, shrieking in.. pain? It's almost an enraged sob. Tendrils of Black Tears whiping to try and grab Golden; Grab, crush, tear, rip, whatever it can do. And then there's Ophelia herself, claws swiping as she screams her frustrations.

Kyle Katarn (778) has posed:
    "About time." The Jedi begins to cut with more precision as he evades and parries the mob's strikes, often taking limbs and heads as he slices through them like butter. It's almost too easy given how slow and uncoordinated these guys have become, and with a wave of his hand another Force Push should give him some additional breathing room.

    "What are you even DOING here?" Kyle calls out to Ophelia, genuinely confused andm ore annoyed than anything else. "I mean, is this really how you market your band? Something tells me you don't get much of a crowd beyond these guys, and they're pretty dead." Slice, slice, chop! "Literally, I think!"

Yang Xiao Long has posed:
    Yang grabs at her ruined arm. Well, not ruined, but badly wounded, far more than her Aura can deal with. "What's the matter? Spiderhead got your ton--" and then she's bricked. Literally. The brawler is nailed right in the head by one of those metallic bricks, luckily finding Aura instead of skull, but it leaves a NASTY gash on her forehead that isn't closing.

    The rest of the bricks get angry swats from her remaining, left arm. Her right hangs limply, spasming occasionally. "Not good..." burning red eyes turn from Sanary, to the Bride, then back, before with a bellowed roar of defiance, the blonde turns, and with a spinning round-house punch, launches an explosive packet of Fire Dust at the Bride's back, shunting all the gathered energy she's gotten so far into it. She can't afford to let the line break, the civillians would be an easy target after that... but that leaves her totally exposed to counters from everywhere else.

Golden (782) has posed:
    The crest burns with the intensity of the rising sun, golden-orange warmth fighting the gloom and darkness of the Drowning Doom's stage as the diminutive digimon tries hard to fend off the grasping tendrils.
    "I've fought gods and demons, lady!" He struggles more, ripping his cannon arm free briefly to snap an energy bomb shot off at the incoming Ophelia before the arm is ensnared yet again. He strains to free himself, his voice warbling between its normal snide tones and distorted electronic noise. "I'm a Crestbearer of Courage, and-" There's a flicker coinciding with a lightning strike. a glimpse of a different being entirely; looming and dragon-like man clad in umblemished gold armor, and then just as suddenly it's gone. "- afraid of nothing!"
    Golden is cursing his ruined and altered form at the moment, unable to simply digivolve into his more powerful WarGreymon form. Being a scion of unyielding courage doesn't mean anything when your own body can't live up to it. No Brave Shield, no Dramon Killers, none of the badges of office once held by the old digimon hero were available to him. Tendrils of despair worm their way into his cracked digicore even as he fights, a familiar doom creeping into him. Is it really going to end this way? He couldn't count on a warp gate opening miraculously this time. The crest's glow starts slowly receding, dimming even as the black tears gouge rents in the battered Metal Mamemon.
    And then Drowned Ophelia lays into him.

Sanary Rondel has posed:
Things aren't looking all that great for the Doom, are they? Sanary's starting to see the writing on the wall, but she's not about to just up and leave until things look even worse. Until then?

     She's going to focus on powering up her allies as much as she can. The GraveDiggers that are still standing get an extra boost of energy, the Ophelia continues getting energy from the healer without messing up that attempted stoicism too much, and Yang...

     Sanary's not quite sure what to do with Yang. An easy target, to be sure, her arm's still sore after blocking that last shot. Still, no sense letting a good opportunity go to waste, especially with Ophelia handling Golden. The bricks that hadn't been obliterated on impact with Yang's aura or her fists lift into the air again along with bits of shattered bricks, then close in on her position and start swirling about rapidly like a grainy tornado!

Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
Drowned Ophelia's coutenance calms all of a sudden; It's frightening, how still her features get, even as the black tears continue to trickle down her cheeks. "Gods and demons?" She states, and a cruel little smile twists up her lips as she finally leans forward - and CLAMPS her claws on either side of Golden's head. Trying to hold him steady, as the ichor drips from her cheeks and onto his dimming form. "What makes you think I'm either of those?"
She snarls, turning her gaze aside towards Kyle. "You think this is about -posing-? I do it for the fans - and for the gods of Death Metal. And because I hate you all. And now?" She turns back to Golden, releases his head - and rips a line right up the inside of her own arm. A suicide slash, a rending sob of pain, releasing a flood of Black Tears across the smaller Elite. ".. Suffer with me." The Black Tears designed to do nothing so much as water what seeds of grief there are. Magnify the pains, the little humiliations, to fade the good for the bad. To turn all joy and love to dust and hate, even as it empowers one.

Sanary can feel it too - the sudden -tug- as she had linked her energy with Drowned Ophelia's. It takes a lot to turn someone to sorrow, to drown them in grief; It takes a hell of a lot more to turn an Elite.

The bride falters in indecisiveness, Yang's blow ripping right through the undead creature - it's ghostly wail of pain fading to nothing, even as it turns to dust. A single bride's veil floating gently to the ground. The Drowning Doom falter at last, caught between Jedi and Defense, with no Queen of Tears to lead them. The undead creatures litter the ground where they fell, slowly fading to nothing. Evaporating, in fact, much like the Grimm do. And as if to punctuate that fact, a scream of rage lights up in the sky above - a massive winged shape dipping in and out of the whirling storm, bathing in the grief and hate. A flying Grimm - Nevermore, shaped like a huge raven.

Kyle Katarn (778) has posed:
    Kyle just splits yet another zombie in half. Right now he's beginning to consider them an afterthought compared to Ophelia. He begins to wade through the mob before he leaps into the air, the Force propelling him while he strides towards the leader of this gathering.

    "You're a real bundle of originality. I've heard it all before, DONE it all before. I'm not a fan." He says, charging towards the ghastly matron of this snake pit. He slashes at Ophelia once he's in range, his lightsaber's cut shallow but swift.

Yang Xiao Long has posed:
    And here come the bricks again. Yang's hurting, badly. She staggers back from that punch, then grits her teeth as Sanary starts whipping those fragments around her. She punches one to pieces, then gets nailed in the back by a different one, the fragments lash against her, drawing cuts and slashes along exposed skin, and tearing her outfit. She flails with her one good arm, until she gets a one-two hit, a brick striking her midsection, winding her, before a second arcs around and smashes her in the head again, knocking her staggering backwards... over the guardrail, a flash of white strobing over her body as her Aura fails completely.

    Luckily, Ochre seems to be bad at listening, as the whine of jet turbines rises over the music, Yang laying prone atop the aircraft. <<Heard you guys could use some help. I grabbed as many students from Beacon as I could stuff into the Bullhead and came right back!>> he transmits, turning and opening the side doors, letting 12 fresh fighters to take some pressure off the beleagured defenders.

Golden (782) has posed:
    The darkness has long existed within Golden. The difference between him and others like him is that it never consumed him in spite of everything. Which is why he earned a Crest of Courage in the first place.
    But this was a far stronger magic, and Golden had been on the edge of despair for a very very long time. It would be so easy to just... succumb to the hate and despair. There is a very long moment for Golden, stretching away into infinity as the Black Tears pull forth all the memories he had worked very hard to bury. The horrific ichor envelops the tiny digimon entirely, gurgling sounds faintly audible over all the noise as he drowns.
    There is a fundamental wrongness, a deep discordant noise sounding as the crest sputters and the light dies entirely. As Golden sinks into the pool of black tears, something is spat out of it, searing and dissolving the darkness at its touch. It lands near the city's defenders, a gold and softly glowing sunburst emblem. And then the digimon slips entirely into the blackness.

Sanary Rondel has posed:
Sanary feels a lump in her gut churning as that link to Drowned Ophelia takes more out of her than she was expecting and even puts something back into her: Those feelings of anger, despair, disgust... It's strong stuff, but it's not enough to get the healer to cut that link. No, she can use these feelings. Remembering those that hurt her and her friends, those who justified the destruction of her village for nothing while protesting the destruction of others for actual gains...

     She's still incredibly sore about that last part. Still, it's good enough to set Sanary off, and that cry from the flying Grimm doesn't get her to so much as bat her eye at it. Without the Bride nor the Drowning Doom to draw on her energy, she's even feeling a little freer with how to use her magic even while maintaining the link to Ophelia. Of course, with the reinforcements showing up just in time to keep her from checking on Yang going over the rail...

     She's probably fine.

     "... Are we almost done here?" Her voice comes out in an oddly forced deep tone, almost like she's still trying to keep up that image despite everything that's going on. Sanary's gaze focuses on Yang and the new faces, a brief sigh of relief coming from the healer before getting diverted towards Kyle and Ophelia. But where's the Digimon?

     He's probably fine.

     With the bricks all but reduced to powder and pellets at this point, the healer hurries back to Drowned Ophelia while conjuring up a long gray polehammer into her free hand. Trying to launch more bricks towards Kyle would be a risky maneuver, but trying to hit him with this conjured thing? Probably a little safer, at least, if a lot more predictable.

Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
The smile that Drowned Ophelia shows is cold; Cold and bitter and small, as she watches the digimon dissolve. Her hands cup the remnants of the fading ichor, almost cooing like one would to a new child. "That's it.. free your hate." She whispers - before something buzzing, bright, and nasty slices through her side. She screams, twisting aside - and ichor runs from the wound. She's composed of it; infused with it. Liquid grief. The wound doesn't sear shut, as one would expect a hit from a lightsaber to do - it just keep bleeding that ebon substance. "What the hell do you think you know? Oh, you think you've come back from it? But it's still inside you, -little man-..." Her chin tilts upwards. "It just needs a wake up call. Just like your friend." Eyes turn up towards the Nevermore, even when Yang's backups finally arrive. The Drowning Doom invasion completely halted, now, a full route. She seems unconcerned.
Hands cup the air, and the Six Stringed Sorrow bubbles into existance in her fingers. She smirks at Kyle, even as Sanary turns to defend her, and plucks a single string - then rides that note all the way up the bridge, as it rumbles from a low murmur into a high pitched scream, and she frets hard. Lightning crackles as the last of the storm is expired into one last blast - INTO the Nevermore itself. The maelstrom fading as it swirls into the oversized Grimm, cutting its way through the creature's flanks. Poisoning it. Red eyes fade - and green corpse light hisses into existance. The emblem of the Drowning Doom forming on its head crest as it lands atop the stage with a CRASH.
Things begin to crumble for real, now, the set over. "Yeah.." States Drowned Ophelia for Sanary. "We're done here. I dub thee EverGore." Time to flee aboard the giant bird thing! HatredCopter's long gone, after all, likely off to find some pretty birds to mow down in the whumping blades.

Kyle Katarn (778) has posed:
    "I can still rise above it." Kyle replies, before suddenly he's clobbered on the back with a hammer. "AUgh!" Something might've broke, oh boy. Stumbling, Kyle tries to swipe his lightsaber at Sanary, but even WORST problems arise as the giant bird flies off with others in tow by the time he's back on his feet.

    "...oh you cheeky bitch." Ow. Shoulderblade. Ow.

Sanary Rondel has posed:
That's good enough for Sanary. She drops the hammer next to Kyle before climbing onto the big bird alongside Drowned Ophelia, her focus shifting to healing again once she notices the big nasty gash. The healer actually looks significantly calmer compared to how she was on the HatredCopter, although it could also be the shades.

     Three people she's met before, all converging on the same place in one big fight. With any luck, maybe... They won't recognize her the next time she tries to talk. Or sees them again.

     Maybe a wig or something would help next time.

Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
The newly dubbed EverGore lifts massive wings, and begins to pump them downwards. Rising up in the air, abandoning the stage - the bell clanging discordantly from the decorative church tower in alarm. Lights flicker and spark, popping and dying one by one. Almost as if someone had removed all the pins from it at once - which may be true, considering the lead of Drowning Doom is exiting the field. The last of the storm dissipates, leaving blue skies once more, as the giant thing heads off.

Down below, the remnants (ha!) of the Freaks are evaporating into nothing, leaving only the damage caused by the falling Stage Box, and the collapsed ruins of the stage itself. Empty of life and soul, lights dead and special effects gone. Whatever powered it left no extension cord behind.

VICTORY: VALE.
LOSSES: GOLDEN, HEARING
GAINED: COOL HOUR LONG HAMMER, RESOLVE