3018/He Who Would Bring Ruin to the Heavens

He Who Would Bring Ruin to the Heavens
Date of Scene:	13 September 2015
Location:	Great Painting of Ariamis <PoA>
Synopsis:	The merciless winged death awakens as foretold, but plans of action are preempted.
Cast of Characters:	Tomoe, Staren, Priscilla, 168, 183, 253, 395, 560, 570, Lezard Valeth, Reiji Arisu, 707

---

Priscilla has posed:
    There is little to be said on the subject of the summoning. Those assembled by it should have grown well used to it by now, having spent more time as phantoms than most warriors have in their entire lives. Perhaps depressingly, the Undead Burg is exact the same as they left it, what feels like an age ago. Despite all that has transpired outside of its moss covered walls, the city is as cold, damp, worn and desolate as ever, shrouded in a weak, colourless light from the omnipresent clouds and completely vacant.

    Actually, /completely/ vacant. That is new. There isn't such much as an echo of a scraping foot or rattling sigh, though the party has only been brought so far as the grand bridge over the divide, now adorned with the somewhat ominous skeleton of the hellkite drake that had once nested atop it. The group isn't very far from the gatehouse at its mouth for probably obvious reasons. Solaire not being present likely makes sense considering his business with the Kiln, but Oscar is a conspicuous vacancy, as does it seem Priscilla for a moment until it becomes apparent she's done the entire ritual invisibly once the soapstone begins to float and then disappears.

Psyber (253) has posed:
    Psyber, as usual arrives in the form of a Blue Phantom. The half-angel's summoning is relatively basic and he seems to have worn a loadout expecting a standard mission. After all, Kalameet requested that they talk, instead of fight, and he had no reason to doubt this motive. Besides, he has the Fetch Modus if he needs to bring out any of his heavier weapons.

    Thusly, Psyber is here and wearing his standard jacket and attire. He has a cigarette in his hand, which he is ghost-smoking and he looks to the Crossbreed, or where he estimates her to be, and nods his head, "Pris," is all he says by way of greeting, placing his hands into his coat pockets and looking towards the drake skeleton.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    No more of her theatricism; no more of her being here 'in person' to derive from the situation more energy borne of risk. All the earnestness with which she might have greeted this world as a phantom rather than as the phantom of a phantom was spent when she saw the ashes of Gwyn's body ascend to the heavens from whence they had come. She has no such inclination to greet a machine fueled by hatred with the same: she has only the justice of her sword for Kalameet, with which she will pry his scales, and then banish his naked carcass into the abyss from whence he came. True, perhaps she harbors too much anger for a being she has never met and who has done little of their own harm; but true also that he is the only thing left upon which she can rest the mantle of all her own issues with this corner of Creation. How easily she finds method to rest her sympathies upon humans, then her anguish upon that which is, to her, unknowable.

    Mizuki has cast aside her cloak today. Today, she wears the dress she wore when Priscilla first met her in earnest. She wears those vestments which were duly reflected in the glittering wakes of Leviathan when she orchestrated the stars, which is to say, the very same garb she wore when she entered the Multiverse to begin with. It is what she has customarily dressed herself in on those days when epochs have ended; when moons have crashed to the Earth; when species have died and new consciousnesses have claimed sovereignty over that which remains. Indeed -- that is what today is. The time for decision is past; this is not the finale, but a necessary aftermath and a necessary closing act. This story has ended, and this is where the stage shall fade to black.

    She arrives in the summoning circle with her sword and shield already drawn. She gives quick glances to Kimiko and Nathan, then a more lasting one to Priscilla. There is little else for her to do, then, but to rest her sword in the ground, and to cover its hilt with her shield. She closes her eyes in brief contemplation -- or prayer -- in brief preparation.

Kimiko Shinobu (570) has posed:
    Gold phantom, Puella Magi outfit, etc. Kimiko Shinobu is here, like each time before. Unarmored and unarmed, for the moment, but those who've seen her fight--all those here--know that that's a non-issue for her style of magic.

    A glance to one side, then the other, and she eyes the disappearing chalk. Rather than speaking to Priscilla, she steps out to look around the bridge, at the drake skeleton, and also around the corners and toward the sky. Nothing. Nothing? She hasn't been here before, but for there to be nothing at all seems a bit unusual. She assumes that Priscilla has some good reason for staying out of sight, and that it's good enough that she shouldn't draw attention to it, but finding that reason is proving difficult.

    Well, she'll just have to wait for the others to show up. Then they'll talk it over, with or the halfbreed's exposition. Psyber gets a firm nod from her, Mizuki a lighter one.

Reiji Arisu has posed:
    Reiji comes as he is summoned, manifesting out of a white glyph as a deep, blue phantom. He appears to have... prepared rather extensively. His usual assortment of gear is supplemented by a set of electronic explosives and several spare ammunition clips.

Even when a dragon says it wants to talk, there's no harm in being prepared.

    "Priscilla," the exorcist nods to his host as he appears. "I apologize if I'm overdressed." There's a sense that he doesn't expect this to remain very courteous for long. Kalameet does not strike him as a particularly civil variety of dragon. Maybe that's bias- it IS, after all, the Dragon of Calamity.

Xiaomu (707) has posed:
For all Xiaomu's lazily cocksure attitude on the radio, she's all business when it comes time to actually be summoned into Lordran. She was absolutely serious about planning to come back alive, and she's fully geared up for it - her monk staff, with its hidden sword; her paired handguns, with a generous supply of extra clips stuck in her carrypack; a bunch of grenades which have been magically enhanced for extra fire-element damage; she's even rounded up some healing potions in case they're needed in a hurry, although she's not quite sure how well 'foreign' potions will work as a summoned phantom in Lordran.

She didn't even leave space in her carrypack for handheld games, or even for fried tofu. That's how serious she is tonight.

She materializes next to Reiji, looking ... focused, for lack of a better description. Ready to do battle with whatever has the bad idea of getting in her way, even if it's a reputedly world-ending super-dragon, and with no intention whatsoever of losing so much as a lock of her hair to it.

Staren has posed:
    Well, /one/ thing is different about the summoning, at least the summoning of one particular person. In Staren's place is a forty-two foot tall robot with a shiny but not quite mirrored finish. The styling is a mix of gentle curves for individual sections and sharper corners where parts join. Boxy limbs with a hint of the shape of legs and arms, and the distinctive front-half-of-a-fuselage-shaped body -- with the hip joints slightly behind the 'nose' -- hints at its ability to transform. Its signature handheld missile pod is attached to clips on the side of one arm. Six armored boxes of additional components are bolted on, one to each lower arm or leg, and one behind each shoulder, extending a few feet above the head. The head is abstract and slightly small and narrow for the size of the body, and bears little more resemblance to a human head than a helmet -- a green tinted visor suggests the location of eyes, and tilted strips of metal extending back from circular mounts on either side of the head, probably antennas or something, might suggest a sort of ears, but this is not a head built for human expression.

    The robot looks around, the way it moves its body oddly human, then looks down at the others. "It worked, Priscilla!" Staren's voice comes over the speakers. "Wow, you're all so tiny."

Lezard Valeth has posed:
Lezard knows little about Kalameet. His hubris is such that he cannot comprehened of a beast that is considered unkillable by even the gods of the realm. But then, he considered the gods of the realm weak and decrepit even by his own standards.

Standards also born of hubris. So it is that Lezard Valeth prepares to slay a great dragon, arriving with the others as a mere crimson phantom, a literal shadow of his self projected through space and time as he arrives on site.

The site is... unexpected, though he does give the large collection of drake bones a visible appraisal from his positon.

To talk or not, Lezard may be considering how best to dispose of the thing regardless. He folds his arms, simply looking out over the bridge, as he simply replies to Staren, "Your size simply makes you a better target."

Tomoe has posed:
Tomoe is not here as a Phantom, no she's here as her Avatar, but the vision she had? It's left her rattled it caught her in her actual form. That left her wary, she's really stuck her neck out farther than one like her should. It's only by a fluke of the multiverse she is able to not be a bystander at all. YEt here she is again she seems uneasy and has herself ready for what will come next or so she hopes.

"In for a penny in for a pound."

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    Golden light emerges from nowhere, flickering and congealing into the form of Emiya Shirou - Gold Phantom! As always.

    But this empty place gives him the willies. With a whisper of his typical chant, he brings his Magic Circuits up to full power. One hand flexes and clenches... then power flashes out wildly...!!

    In a few moments it's congealed and 'hardened, taking the form of one of the enormous bows Gwyn's loyal knights in the Kiln wielded. An enormous bow that's actually taller than HE is.

    Then he notices that fact and makes a face. "... Maybe not the best idea..."

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    The last time Amalthea had seen the Burg it had been infested. Hollows wandering the streets in an ever and eternal desperate hunger for souls to slake their unending, Undead, hunger. Even the strongest of them had been a pitiable sight, despite the very real pain and injury getting into odds with them had caused.
    Once again, however, Amalthea is summoned, the Gold Phantom born forth into the world resplendant and glowing like the sun.
    Kitted in the thickest, heaviest mail of her personal armory, her heaviest shield graspt tightly in hand. Slung at her side her blade Faith waits in patient silence, while her lance Wishblade rests on a shoulder.
    "Alright. I am ready, as always." Mused as she glances up, lone eye staring placidly at Staren's summoned mecha.
    "Huh."

Nathan Hall (168) has posed:
    Nathan emerges from the ritual's magical structure. As per the norm, he's a white phantom, he's wearing his adventuring gear, and he's looking particularly stoic. "The greatest monument to the failure of the sun." He says, looking up. "Few guesses at what this could mean, but the Parish is as good a place to start as any, as good a place for us to wait for now. Figure he'd have been more direct, a little more forthright and focused on this if it were Firelink nearby."

    He matches Mizuki's glance with a nod, but what the nod means is unclear. For now, he does what he always does. He sticks to Psyber's side, adjusts his glasses, and gestures towards the bridge. "The dragon is timeless, the dragon is... Particularly beyond time as we understand it, and can be kept waiting, but all of are on a deadline. All of us are running out of time, in our own way. Let us proceed." He wants to get the group moving on to the Parish, where he intends to follow along with whatever route seems most convenient or appropriate for the meeting.

    As he does, he speaks. "Kalameet is a dragon. He is a being that is not only beyond our understanding of biology, but beyond our understanding of time. Negotiate in as much capacity as you think you can, but understand the inhuman perspective he has. This is not anything at all similar to a human, or to a dragon you have seen elsewhere. You should consider this not unlike bartering or negotiating with an eldritch creature or an alien intelligence. They are the ones who communicate the way he has, and the examples of dragons we have seen -- the duke aside -- should be considered in that capacity."

    "Expect a strong possibility of having this proxy form killed if negotiations fail here. I find Kalameet to be an abjectly terrifying entity to bargain with, and even more terrifying to oppose martially."

Priscilla has posed:
    "Mine apologies for the inhospitable greeting, but I thought it best to not be ambushed by mineself in the midst of a delicate process should this be of less honest intentions than I wouldst wish for." Priscilla says quickly, the origin of her voice still being uncannily difficult to pin down whilst its owner is invisible. Everyone will just have to try and imagine her expression when she realizes that Staren was such a pain to summon because he decided he wanted to be a gargantuan combat robot. What she desires to say personally, to each and every person there, is preemptively drowned out by a crushing downdraft of wind hammering against the flagstones of the bridge, roaring wildly in the ears and sweeping lose stones, burnt detritus and the pieces of ancient corpses off into the massive chasm below.

    There is not much to be said for the sight of a dragon in flight. The shadow that falls over the entire span of the bridge doesn't provoke a sense of majesty or awe when looking up, but simply the sense that the eerily fast, level, and almost motionless flight doesn't seem natural or even possible. The beast that crashes down at the opposite gatehouse, pulverizing the skeletal remains of its inferior descendant beneath its sheer weight, is again far different from the others. The exact opposite of Seath's stark white, on the opposite side of the nameless one's inflectionless grey, Kalameet is midnight black from head to toe, and superficially more similar to a typical dragon. His frame is at extreme exaggerations of skeletal proportions and huge amounts of visible muscle, and distinctly non-reptilian in proportion, further driven home by the fact that his scales appear to be closer to a solid coat of organic onyx rather than those of an animal. The entire length of his spine and the edges of his extremities bristle with irregularly twisted thorns and blades rather than fur or tendrils, with his head half comprised of the massive circle of sweeping horns like a royal crown, framing the cross-shaped slash that serves as the only feature on his entire face, from within the middle of which opens a single eye.

    Those who had spoken to the Everlasting Dragon might be more prepared, but the 'presence' exerted by the dragon's gaze can only be described as overpowering, palpable as various uncomfortable, borderline painful sensations to all five senses, and then the assorted extras as well. Though only somewhat larger than Staren, Kalameet's silhouette somehow feels as if it is ten times the size, the impression only strengthened by the angle at which his shadow casts across the entire span of the bridge, and the way his tail manages to coil all the way around its girth.

    The stones rumble as the thing begins to speak, though its 'voice' is far different than the timeless, ethereal quality of the one before. It is every bit as vague, implaceable, and difficult to fully understand, never mind pick up on the tone of, possessing the same uncanny impression that it is being spoken in reverse, or at least non-linearly, but whereas its kindred had come off something like a ringing bell and the crashing of the waves, this one can only be pinned as the amalagamation of screams, as if it had recorded every excalation of terror, grief and hatred ever uttered.

    " . . . I am joined by an audience of ghosts . . . but none of which are unaccounted for . . . the letter of the terms is met . . . but I will not hear the voice of so many from the mouth of one . . . if there are those with nothing to say . . . they will leave . . .

Psyber (253) has posed:
    Psyber takes a brief moment to look at the few people who greeted him, namely returning a nod to Kimiko in specific. The others are more or less given nods of greeting, with the only one not being given such a greeting being Mizuki. He knows enough of her nature to know when she wants her focus given to her, as well as when she betrays that she might need support. Instead, his greeting for her is to plant a blue hand firmly on the shoulder of her spectral form as a way of reassuring her when she closes her eyes in contemplation.

    A lot of things go through his mind on how tonight could unfold, but he isn't sure what to think at that moment. This lack of focus does not last long, however. It is when Kalameet's gaze falls upon them all and his form comes into view that a lot of thoughts run through Psyber's mind. At the forefront of them all is a single beacon of a point that he cannot help but push away:

    'I should have come in person.'

    Unlike Gwyndolin, this feeling is not held because Psyber has a personal vendetta that makes him show up in person and risk his actual body as a point of honor. Instead, it's the stark realization that Kalameet is likely a foe that he cannot beat in the diminished capacity that the spectre gives him, more akin to when he fought Manus. He can, simply, sponge more damage and exert himself more in his physical form. Not that he would openly admit as such with Lezard standing so close at hand.

    He steps protectively in front of Nathan, his form attempting to interpose between the massive dragon and the smaller librarian. His eyes narrow and he stares at the looming form, giving it a frank assessment as he moves to shield Nathan. He eventually settles on some words. His tone is harder and more detached than normal, having a cold edge to it that betrays the hunter in him.

    "Dragon. You request an audience and have the hubris to say you will vacate those you requested come? Say your piece and we will respond."

Staren has posed:
    Staren has his own expectations for how this is going to go. They're going to ask the dragon to leave things alone, he's going to say no for inscrutible dragon reasons -- or perhaps this change to the status quo threatens him in ways they can't see, like maybe he /wanted/ to be all alone surrounded by burnt-out undead husks. Then he's going to fight them, and they'll have a hell of a time somehow beating him.

    He's unsure, though, whether the dragon is going to make more than a token allowance for diplomacy.

    Staren mentally shudders at Kalameet's voice. This request... he /seriously/ wants to talk? Or... perhaps he just hopes to get some of them to leave so the fight will be easier.

    Staren looks Kalameet over, steeling himself for the inevitable fight. Still, he won't /start/ a fight, on the off-chance it /can/ be avoided. "We are trying to save the people of this world, or at least their future. It is our understanding that this will not harm you in any way. By the lengths we have gone to to set this in motion, you can see how important it is, and we intend to see it through. If you have cause to find a problem with this, then if you tell us what that is, perhaps we can work on a solution." Politeness setting: As high as he goes!

Kimiko Shinobu (570) has posed:
    Kimiko watches more assemble, looking up at Staren's choice of vehicle. Vehicle? Did the summoning allow for that? Evidently, somehow, according to his words. Amalthea is another comforting presence, equipped in a style to which Kimiko is familiar.

    "The parish?" she asks, being likewise unfamiliar with that area. Nearby, she assumes, and looks both toward the bridge, and oppositely, through the gatehouse. "Nn," an agreeing grunt. Priscilla does add her explanation, and they are interrupted.

    All is interrupted. The presence of the dragon is overpowering, and its speech is only marginally intelligible. She does understand, but it still carries the same sense of alien malevolence she'd expect from only a few types of beings in the Multiverse. There is some marvelous coincidence, or else the title of 'calamity' is more apt than a mere descriptor of historical function.

    Hackles raised, the magical girl still takes no overt movement. Leave? She didn't come here just to leave. She's one to act as soon as speak, and does not yet know which is appropriate.

    "I will speak. My words are, 'I stand.'" She doesn't care if the dragon hears her. Her message to Kalameet is in her immobility.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Truly, eternity is a concept which could only ever have been fathomed by a mortal mind. To say that something can persist in its present form, unchanging, for 'all time' is something which is by its very concept implausible. These dragons may be 'timeless', they may be 'ageless', but they are by no means everlasting. Gwyn has proved this in the past, and their number will do so again, now.

    It is for a decidedly brief spell that Mizuki hears the cataclysm of screams that constitutes Kalameet's voice, and that is all the time she needs to understand how right she had been. As she closes off her ability to feel, taste, touch, she recounts: dragons are beings that never needed words to speak. They are capable of transmitting concept directly, and because humans require words to accomplish the same feat, they automatically parse them as words. What those horror chimes are, then, is a backdraft -- the leftover noise that would for a sapient being manifest as 'yelling'. It is his rancor, his hatred; these are the thoughts and feelings that so characterize Kalameet that he quite literally breathes them, transmits them by virtue of his mere presence. It does not matter to Mizuki where these feelings stem from, but their pervasiveness is all the evidence she could ever need to know beyond a shadow of a doubt: this creature is beyond the pale. Whatever they were, what they are now is deplorable. Therefore, it must be silenced.

    It will be silenced.

    Living in anger, basking in a cesspit of one's own miseries and laments is, in a position like Kalameet's, irresponsible. If he is able to communicate with a direct outpouring of his soul made tangible, then he is, by his very existence, polluting the world around him. His rage seeps into everything, his rage dominates everything; were it that their group stayed here long enough, it might even begin to erode their senses. Kalameet is become a living plague, a pestilence -- a dismal lingering to be afforded no more mercy than sickened rats. Whatever his status in legend, this is the truth of reality.

    ... so why, then, when Mizuki silences the deafening howl of his murderous intent, does she feel such pangs of sorrow for this creature? Ever has there been a certain romanticism to being near the last of one's kind -- perhaps it is that. If not, then it could be she has failed in shutting off her ability to feel from him, and instead rerouted that ability elsewhere: to a quieter presence in the deepest corners of Kalameet's shade which understands how much he has lost in giving himself over so completely to primal, thrashing reactions to pain.

    But there is no use in ruminating on things now. Mizuki is here, Kalameet is there; the physical presence of all these people upon this particular field, and at this particular time, has already guaranteed a particular outcome. There is no use in trying to evade it: only in embracing Fate may one begin to hope, to dream of changing it. The swifter Kalameet is felled, the better chance this world will have of never suffering another such fell creature again.

    Therefore, Mizuki levels her blade. In the same manner as ever.

Xiaomu (707) has posed:
Xiaomu gives Kalameet an ornery look, leaning her staff against her shoulder. "Well, if you want all of us to say something, rather than most of us deferring to one knowledgeable representative who's experienced in negotiating with dragons ..." She takes a deep breath.

"We've embarked on a long and dangerous journey, confronting myriad quests and challenges, at the request of one native to this world who seeks to save Lordran from a dark fate of destruction. We have travelled far, facing deadly enemies, and are determined that none shall stand in our way, be they mortal or immortal, demon or god. To that end -"

She holds her staff straight again, thumping its butt on the ground so that the rings attached to its headpiece jangle loud and clear.

"Pledge your assistance to our mission, or stand aside from the path we must follow. Your assistance would be gratefully accepted; your opposition will not be permitted."

Xiaomu really WOULD be just as happy to resolve things with Kalameet without a fight, but if the dragon isn't going to help, even if only by swearing not to interfere with what's left of their quest? She's equally serious about taking the dragon down, as hard as it takes.

Lezard Valeth has posed:
Lezard turns and follows along with the group, his staff keeping time with his pace as they progress into the Parish, walking through the oddly empty area. Lezard frowns visibly as they proceed. "Surely he is not so powerful than we cannot deal with him the same way we would deal with any other dragon of note, Master Hall." Lezard says, his tone indicating that he doesn't seem to really buy the legends wholesale. But then, he did not spend a great deal of time in the last time period that the beast was known to be active, either.

"I cannot believe that we are actually entertain-" He pauses as the shadow flickers over the great bridge, and he looks up. "Well now. That's different."

The arrival of Kalameet causes further sass from the Necromancer to stick in his teeth. The overwhelming presence of the beast causes him to immediately go on guard, the Manus Catalyst in his hand crackling with Dark for several moments as he reacts to a possible ambush.

It does not come. He stands there, his expression flickign across his face revealing that he is, ironically, thinking the same thing as Psyber in that moment. Despite this, pride drives Lezard on in the face of the mind-numbing, sense-scorching voice of Kalameet as he makes he demands. "Well then, Kalameet. Finally I see you are more than a legend to scare the foolish." Lezard steps forward, looking up at the beast. "We have clawed our way through space and time, torn apart the gods of old that even you could not reach. Destroyed the legacies of the ancient ones and plundered the secrets of the Abyss itself in order to win through to the Kiln of the First Flame, to begin a process which will put an ned ot the Age of Gods and change this world forever and you, Kalameet, finally deign to show yourself? Why have you come? If you wished to interrupt us you could have simply attacked us. Why engage us in this manner?"

Reiji Arisu has posed:
    Of course Staren comes in a giant robot. Reiji's silence isn't QUITE tangible as the massive, metal phantom appears from its summon sign, but it's definitely heavy. Though, he can't exactly complain given the sort of weaponry he's packing, but a giant robot is a bit excessive, isn't it?

He might just blow up the Parish!

    There's little time to linger, however. An undeniable presence falls upon the world, crushing Reiji's senses beneath the incredibly gravitas of Calamity Given Form. Reiji winces as the massive, black dragon alights upon its tower. He can feel the eye peeling through him, as if it were dissecting him with a gaze. That, he muses, must be Kalameet.

    The exorcist steels himself as the Dragon speaks, its hatred- the hatred of thousands of years- washes over his awareness like a tidal wave, but he forces himself above it. Though he does not yet dare to look the beast in its lone, calamitous eye, he still raises his head to stare into its tremendous maw.

    "Ancient One," Reiji begins, speaking evenly, levelly, steel evident in his voice. "Eternal Kalameet, you have watched the world for milennia, you must know, by now, what it is that we seek to do. You must be aware of the process that we have set into motion."

    "I need to know only two things," he says, following up on his partner's inquiry. "The first, whether you intend to stand against us. The second, if you desire parley, then I would know your terms. What is it that you desire from this meeting?"

Sticking ith the basics for now.

Tomoe has posed:
Tomoe is gettting what Nathan is saying clearly. She hopes they an talk this out, but it's an alien thing? Likely even more so than Cardinal is, so she truly wonders how this is going to go. She listens to Nathan about his proxy getting taken out. She's more worried it can find them beyond thier personal cats paws. She then turns her attention to Pris for a momet but she looks up to see the Dragon as it arrives, it's really something to see as the alien thing arrives. She does have things to say not much but she's got some she's not hte best with public speaking really. Stills he's got something to say, she would be terrifed to come to this world in person. Even with her partner she'd not likely even last to make it to this meeting point. Yet she can get why the dragon is not happy with that. It came in person after all. She will however wait to hear what the others have to say before it goes.

"We came to seek your aid in repaiing the damage to this world, we have found a path that may allow this situation to come to an end once and for all. A age that is neither of the gods nor of the darkness is that which we seek to enact."

Nathan Hall (168) has posed:
    "He's got one eye."

    Nathan whispers that in a way that's only barely audible to the others over the noises of Kalameet's movements, and makes a noise of utter dread. He seems to get his act together in short order, though. He begins controlling his breathing and thoughts with a tremendous force of will. Thankfully, his ring prevents the crashing impact of dragon against bridge -- or the intense psychic force -- from knocking him over. He remains utterly still.

    Then, he speaks up properly. He brings back the old force to his voice, the one with more firmness and energy. "Salutations, Kalameet." He says, calmly. "You wished to speak with us. However, at this time, we expect you have both means and motive to kill us with less difficulty than most." He says this with an utter deadpan. "If you require negotiations in-person, this can be addressed. No disrespect is meant, but I expect you care little for the respect shown to you by beings of our sort."

    He steps to just behind Psyber, just off to his side. He can speak clearly while still being easily protected. "The Ashen Mist calls you, as does the seat of Fire and its original souls. You wish to speak, so I will ask you to. We want to seek a middle ground, and a means by which both of our goals can be accomplished. Our goal is to sustain the Flame, and restore the life here to the order we know as natural." He folds his arms behind his back. "What do you intend, Kalameet?"

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    By the time the group's reached the bridge, Shirou's ditched his cumbersome weapon. There's nothing to shoot like he originally expected. Not a single Hollow... what the heck's up with this place?

    Kalameet's entry robs him of all other thoughts though. He's brought to stremble where he stands. But Shirou is no coward. He would BRAVELY RUN AWAY if there was no pressing reason to be here.

    There is though. A very important one. One he's already suffered dreadfully for and will still fight for.

    So when called to speak up, he does so. "Our entire effort has been to keep the Age of Fire from ending completely and it's not so distant now. Hope, that's what we're bringing back to this world. Is there no room for you in a world like that? Why, if not?"

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    Silently, Amalthea attempts to contemplate the strain summoning such a machine would have been. Though her calculations to not go very far, the immense force of wind bearing down on the bridge instantly snaps the old knights attention upwards. Kalameet comes.
    And for all the support and strength Amalthea has known, and known from her closest friends and allies, for a moment, the unicorn shifts her footing uncomfortably. It is an instinctive action, the unsettled manner in which she nearly takes a single backwards step, but then arrests with a steeling breath, eye sliding shut for a beat when the overbearing, nearly overwhelming presence of the Dragon of Calamity's gaze comes upon them all, and for a moment, all she can do is keep her eye closed and listen to the slow, steady beat of her heart, pumping in her own ears.
    And then she opens her eye again, taking but a single step forward. Beside Psyber and Kimiko.
    "I have always preferred the language of action, over the language of man, Ancient Dragon." She replies, tone soft and referent, humble, but nowhere close to sycophantic no, simply placid and serene. "But we have all come too far in this quest. After this I will only speak in that language and only if it is what I am pushed to do so. And I promise even if bodily slain, I will ensure you hear my voice in the act."

Priscilla has posed:
    The unfortunate truth of holding a conversation is that after one has said their piece, their partner is expected to reply; thus relegating all those present to enduring the sensations of hot metal sizzling against their skin and needles stabbing into their eardrums, the stones flickering beneath their feet as if perceived through mild, intermittent static. " . . . it is easy for a phantom to be brave . . . and easier still for those who do not reside within to speak of the fate of a world . . . but still you are bolder than most . . . " The dragon's massive wings, drift downwards, enveloping the gatehouse in their colossal, black expanse, rather than remaining poised for flightl. " . . . Fire and Dark are equally unwelcome visitors . . . but though a fire can be extinguished . . . it cannot be un-lit . . . your 'quest' does not offend me and nor does the death you leave in your wake . . . I am beyond the concern of which form of life should claim to own these lands for the next age . . . were any possible end to this world something I could not abide . . . we would not be here . . . "

    It's vaguely obvious that the way the supports quiver faintly under the party's assembled feet when the dragon shifts its weight is actually real, not just part of the disorienting sensory glitches that assail their sense of balance. " . . . I fully realize you are not of this world . . . and thus I entertain you without bloodshed . . . for even your destruction would result in nothing of gain . . . but as one among you is not . . . you have had audience with the cowardly mother who hides in the lake of eternity . . . caring only that a single egg might hatch in a million years . . . and have gained that which there was no right to give away . . . "

    " . . . you are neither fools nor weaklings . . . and so you should already know well that I cannot simply enter the Kiln on my own . . . just as you cannot yourselves . . . " The dragon's singular eye flashes for the barest of instants. " . . . for your role in killing the traitor I offer you thus . . . allow my passage into the Kiln . . . to claim the seed that falls from the tree as it is fully grown . . . and return the blessings of the Mist to our kind . . . after which what befalls your world is of no concern of mine . . . what your designs perpetuate above the Archtrees stands upon its own . . . "

Nathan Hall (168) has posed:
    Nathan adjusts his glasses, and goes back to refolding his arms. His eyes are obfuscated by orange glare. "You have made a mistake." He says, simply. His memory is racing... All the way back, over five months ago, to a certain encounter. "You believe you have a responsibility to return the blessings of the Ashen Mists to your kind. However, we have already accounted for this. We have been in contact with another of your race, and made arrangements for the Ashen Mists, as provided by the seed and its use under the control of an ally of ours, to affect the remaining dragon hatchlings held elsewhere." Nathan's mind is absolutely working overdrive to link old and new diplomatic options.

    "A dragon of an especially Everlasting variety was contacted previously. If you have further intentions that could be addressed, through adjusting our own plans, we will be willing to negotiate this point." He's trying to scope out how much Kalameet intends to be the one to do it himself...

Psyber (253) has posed:
    Psyber at least feels some bolstered resolve at the presence of both Amalthea and Kimiko to stand firm as guardians alongside him. He brushes back the coat he wears and lets his hand fall on a heavy revolver. He doesn't draw it yet, but stares up at Kalameet, looking him in the eye.

    "And what if your request is refused?" Psyber asks bluntly, watching the Dragon for a reaction. As much as the uneasy and painful presence of the dragon unsettles him, he's got enough steel in his resolve to maintain his distant and detached facade while he weighs his options.

    Nathan, however, wants to take aggressive point on his negotiations. This pre-empts Psyber from saying much else, so he falls silent while the Librarian works.

Reiji Arisu has posed:
Well, that... Actually makes quite a bit of sense. Reiji produces a soft grunt as he nods, glancing away. The Dragon's request is... Reasonable, after a fashion. If it does not feel as though a treasure of its people was properly consigned, then there are grounds for this sort of protest.

But then, they DID recieve the seed from a member of Kalameet's species. Nathan has the right of it.

For now, the exoricst allows the Master Negotiator to speak.

Staren has posed:
    Huh, seems the dragon wants to talk after all.

    Staren lets Nathan do his thing. He's already lost on the implications of all this. He really should have studied Lordran's metaphysics more...

Kimiko Shinobu (570) has posed:
    Hatred. Terror. Pain. If dragons communicate via concept, and all of Kalameet's speech carries these feelings, what does that say of it? Kimiko draws her own conclusions, right and wrong, informed as they are by who and what she is, and has been. It is a being called a 'dragon,' yes, but that means nothing, here, any more than does 'faerie' or 'man.' As her eyes narrow, and she silently pronounces this being a 'monster,' it is not its inhuman physiology to which she refers. It is the nature of its ego--not merely its arrogance, but the /nature/ of its being, breathing and drowning in hostility, that makes it a monster.

    She cannot be certain, but she is, stubbornly and instinctively so, jaw set and legs apart, ready to make her speech with action. She is one who hunts monsters, and planned always to die in the execution of that duty. Dying on this day is not even possible. What need is there for hesitation?

    She will not, of course, act until the speech of others has withered.

Xiaomu (707) has posed:
Xiaomu rests her staff against her shoulder again. Kalameet wanted to hear from everybody; everyone who was going to say anything, with an invitation like that, has done so. Now it's up to Nathan, at least primarily, to do the rest of the talking.

But just because she's relaxing her stance does *not* mean that the sage fox is letting her guard down. If anything, she's on higher alert than she was when Kalameet first showed up.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    If only for a moment, Mizuki lowers her blade. As she does, she speaks thusly: "We shall allow your reply to Psyber's question to serve as indication of how little your goals, whatever those may be, truly intersect with ours. We can only suspect that a violent reply bespeaks of something you've withheld, for if we are truly so 'inconsequential' to you, you should have no reason to wish to harm us. Unless, of course, you are presently suppressing such hatred so that we will not notice it in you." Short, to the point. Not her norm.

    In the meanwhile, Mizuki's eyes never stray from Kalameet's own. Every now and then, some of his screaming aura beats past her defenses; at those times, her head is briefly awash in throbbing pain mixed with nausea. At those times, she gives absolutely no outward demonstration she is feeling such.

    Two 'immortals', yet two wholly different existences besides.

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    This situation's already more than enough to give Emiya Shirou a headache. The boy swallows hard. IHe knows ALMOST NOTHING about how all of this stuff works or what Kalameet really wants. And this pisses him off because he can't offer much in response.. except trust in the handful here who do know about that matter. Tense, he grunts quietly and glances rather uncertainly towards Nathan and Psyber...

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    Amalthea has given her word. And thus stands silent, heart racing in her chest, as it takes a large portion of her willpower to not break from her spot at Psyber's side, waiting to see how this exchange with a dragon of Calamity itself plays out. Another scuffle of her boot, and the unicorn stills.
    The look afforded to Nathan Hall is a particularly hard and chilled one, but she does not interrupt, as Nathan brings up the meeting with the other Everlasting Dragon, her fingers drumming insistently on the haft of her lance.

Nathan Hall (168) has posed:
    Nathan doesn't know the name of the dragon he refers to -- in fact, he doesn't even know if dragons properly have names like that, under most circumstances -- but he does try to speak that title with a certain verbal impulse, a sort of presentation of surface thoughts. He knows that Kalameet is, at least, partially psychic. The Everlasting Dragon, negotiated with at Ash Lake, is one he tries to identify in that subtle, nonverbal way.

    "You claim she is a coward, and would only wait for millions of years for a single egg. However, by your nature, I believe you have far more time to wait than any of us." He says, nodding firmly. "Our agreement with them was for the benefit of the hatchlings, but you, who have existed for a time that is far longer than any others, have far more time yet to live. It sounds like you are still averse to the length of time that the one we negotiated with speaks of. Explain the nature of the acquisition of this seed, and the ends that these means will accomplish."

Tomoe has posed:
Tomoe is not sure what to say at this point she now goes silent she's said what she's got to say at this point. She'll let the other speak now she's understanding just how tense it is at this point she's just happy she didn't say the wrong thing right now she knows it might break into a fight however she remains calm she does not move she simply waits and keeps near Nathan ready to act.

Lezard Valeth has posed:
Lezard is caught between a fascinating array of emotions, but how many he can show in this situation is distressingly limited. To show weakness before Kalameet would simply guarantee that it would attempt to force the issue instread of negotiationg. But is he even negotiating in good faith? The allowances he is making seem to be the almost typical denigrations of his kind. The scowl on Lezard's face deepens in the face of the barbs and arrogant, horrifying utterances. Some part of him screams at him to exercise caution but pride continues to drive him on as he steeps there in quiet indignance.

He listens to the others speak, and seems to judge that they have said anything he was going to say at this point. While clearly irritated, he doesn't seem to be ready to go so far as to outright antagonize the dragon yet.

Priscilla has posed:
    For the corporeal manifestation of something beyond human comprehension, imprinted on the world and expressed through the fear, misery and hostility of countless generations of thinking beings, the dragon is an eerily patient listener; or at least, he appears to be. No matter how the heroes and villains assembled before him might question or challenge him, he remains seated; perched where they are well out of his reach, and silent as only something without need for vital processes can be, his continued attention only obvious by the way the surface of the bridge seems to pop and bubble under the beating corona of a malevolently swollen star. What he seems to notice more than anything however, is the way that most of the others defer to Nathan to speak for them, either unsure in their knowledge, set in their determination to fight instead of speak, or trusting his words to be the silver bullet as they have been so many times in past.

    " . . . I believe that I said I would not abide a single soul serving as the mouthpiece for the many . . ."

    The Eye of Calamity blazes to life, flashing with a halo of baleful, molten orange light. The air is suddenly rent with not just the impression, but the physical manifestation of that endless, toneless, formless screeching, lancing into the brain like the worst kind of electronic feedback loop imaginable. Nathan is physcially hurled from the ground, gravity reversing directly underneath him so that he is swiftly brought up to a distant eye level with the dragon, and then physically crucified by some kind of unseen force, tearing at his phantom body for a brief instant of incomprehensible agony, before he abruptly and violently detonates in a cruciform blast of fire, vapourized with a look.

    " . . . such is my reply to this wasting of my presence . . . " His voice is doubly intense as before, barely possible to tolerate even with an extreme stretch of willpower. " . . . those who would care to give a better answer . . . speak now . . ." There's something very un-draconic about it. Even with its bizarre form of speech, the presence of what might be anger, or perhaps impatience, is present in such a way that a human can comprehend it.

Xiaomu (707) has posed:
Xiaomu shakes her head, looking disgusted. "He's the best of us at speaking of complex matters, and he's been dealing with the situation in Lordran longer than some of us," she states to Kalameet. If she's suffering any brain-breaking after-effects from what just happened, damned if she's going to show that kind of 'weakness' in front of the dragon. "But yeah, what he said basically stands, with or without him. We want to resurrect this world for all its people, not just for the dragons - and not just for the humans, either. I say once again: either pledge to assist us, or stand aside and let us do what we understand needs to be done for Lordran's sake. Your assistance would be greatly appreciated, but so far, you have yet to even *hint* that you want to help us act to any benefit of your kind."

She actually *sounds* ticked off, although not necessarily 'gonna kick your scaly ass now, you overgrown Komodo' levels.

Staren has posed:
    "You /dolt/." Staren speaks up. Trying to contain his outrage, since people decided to talk. Maybe the dragon really doesn't understand the pain of death -- well, they might remedy that soon enough. "We are not dragons. I don't know how your kind interact with eachother, but we work /together/. It is not that we were subservient to him, or that we are mindless -- But some of us are less gifted than others in speechcraft, or less able to understand the bizarre workings of this alien world. /He/ had the best collection of information /and/ the best skill at communication and diplomacy. And some of us are here as martial support, because we trust the people with the ideas to know what they're doing, for... for what are alien reasons to you, I suppose. Now..."

    Staren raises a hand to point at the dragon. "Explain why we should risk allowing you access to the Pyre, or we will destroy you. You have lost all goodwill and we will no longer consider helping you /just/ to avoid a fight. Give us another reason, or die."

Psyber (253) has posed:
    Psyber winces a bit as Nathan, despite his protective presence, is simply vaporized like that. The half-angel lets out an annoyed noise and finally deems to speak.

    "You just made a grievous mistake, and I will explain why," Psyber says very blandly as his hands fall into his pockets. He takes the cigarette out of his mouth and flicks it to the ground, snuffing it out under a spectral shoe, "Nathan Hall, while the mouthpiece for many, was also a mitigating factor."

    "His nature was that of the mouthpiece. The voice for those whose nature lends itself to action over diplomacy. And you just killed him," Psyber sighs a bit, as if tired from the strain that Kalameet's presence is putting on his psyche, "You have now doomed your own discourse to failure and placed this on a route towards violence which can likely not be salvaged."

    The half-angel looks up at the dragon, "I don't know what else to tell you. You're going to either take a knee to the future or you're going to die. These are the two options, since your last action has eliminated all other outcomes at this venture," He delivers this verdict pretty detachedly and with a sort of uncaring aloofness.

    "Please understand my position here. By nature of my laziness, I don't want to fight you. But if you force me into violence, I will come back and I will show you my full power. Unrestrained."

    He pauses for a moment and then shakes his head, "People rarely ever see me perform unrestrained violence. I rarely like to show people such a thing, these days."

Reiji Arisu has posed:
Aaaaand there goes Nathan.

    Reiji's expression hardens as Nathan Hall is suddenly subjected to abstract telekinetic removal. The screeching of nails against the blackboard of his brain forces his teeth to grit tight and his fingertips to dig into his palms. If nothing else, Kalameet is proving to be the single most uncomfortable to be around entity of phenomenal cosmic power that Reiji Arisu has ever had the displeasure of meeting.

Not that he'll say that to its face.

Not just yet, anyway.

    "Alright," the exorcist breathes, exhaling through his nose. "What he said wasn't inaccurate, Kalameet. We did recieve the gift from one of your own, who gave it unto us by its own free will." As much as Ancient, Eternal Dragons have free will.

Do they, really?

    "Moreover, it awarded the artifact to one who shares at least half of your kind's nature. By my reckoning, it yet remains in the hands of the Dragons, it's just that one of their number has decided to make use of it in the manner that we've come to decide is necessary for this world." Reiji inclines his head, peering up at Kalameet and its single, terrible eye. "I'm not certain we can return it to you at this point. Nor do I know if it will be safe to do so after its work is complete. There are too many unknowns, and until the job is done, we cannot say for certain what the outcome will be, though we are sure of what outcome we desire, and to what ends whe have worked. Once that business has concluded, we may be able to be more amenable to returning it to your care."

"But until then, we seem to have need for that seed."

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    KABOOOOOOM! There goes Nathan. Shirou doesn't even have time to blink or flinch before his body's practically shaking itself apart, an icy horror freezing him in place.

    Every instinct he has screams run. RUN, or be killed.

    Beads of perspiration gather on Emiya Shirou's increasingly panicked face.

    How CAN they fight this thing?!

    "What kinds of stupid things do you want me to say, Kalameet?!" Shirou blurts, reeling in disbelief at what just happened. It's a good thing Nathan was a phantom!

    "I've got nothing against the Everlasting Dragons, Gods, Humans, or anyone else. There's a chance to keep the flame going... And I understand that artifact is a critical part of it, but it won't be harmed by using it that way." Shirou's now letting his temper build and isn't bothering politeness at all.

    As it is, all his senses are screaming DANGER, so it's a wonder he's not flipping out in some way or another.

Kimiko Shinobu (570) has posed:
    In truth, Kimiko wasn't standing here to defend Nathan. That's all that stops her from immediately launching herself in assault, screeching pain be damned. There are rules she follows, even when they make sense only to her.

    "You gave no answer." She pauses, and says to all the rest, "It gave no answer." Was the question not worth answering? If so, why? Is Kalameet unwilling to explain? "It will not explain how we can cooperate." Thus, it must be assumed, "we would not agree had it explained." Untrue? Perhaps. It fits her notion of this being.

    It is a monster, and she wishes to see it dead, for their own safety, and that of all who come after them.

    More quietly, "Priscilla, if you are still here, you are in the greatest danger. Go, please."

    Nathan Hall will recover. Oscar and Solaire are not here. Kimiko is a shield, and there was only one person, in this instance, that might need her to be such.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Screeching, like a bomb detonating within her skull, or a hive of hornets trapped within her ears, wracks Mizuki's form, yet she doesn't budge. Her eyes narrow and twitch in response to the agony - agony that she is now entirely unable to block out - but her body yields no more obvious reactions of fear.

    It is true, though. They have perpetrated the one act which Kalameet promised not to suffer. Worse still, that singular voice has engaged this dragon in a battle of logic -- human logic that, in the eyes of one such as this, must be little more than annoyance to be swatted away. Just as their number has always been in his eyes: insects, which he has thus far been willing to entertain; cowards hiding behind phantoms that he tolerated only because he knew, inevitably, he would be forced to do so.

    Mizuki begins a short traipse forward, now, wrapping her arms neatly behind her back, face as fixed as that of a porcelain doll. "Is it that hatred and fear are a universal language," She begins, only tacitly addressing Kalameet while her eyes roam the area, "or have you, pray tell, garnered some humanity in your time upon this twisted world? Yes... I see within you an impatience, an anger -- a concept of hierarchy that places you and your priorities above us where, before, there was naught else to compare to you. You were All. You were Everything. You were Constant. But as this world has grown, you have watched, and as this world has changed," She pauses meaningfully, her wandering eyes finally finding their mark proper, "so, too, have you."

    After allowing for a period of silence, she continues. "Now, if it is words you wish for, you need not want for long. I am myself a well of them -- a constant outpouring of boisterous concepts which not even a void would smite. But might I ask: why do you want them? Why do you require words, even from one, when each of us so loudly projects our feelings about you? Why -- can you no longer hear? Can you no longer sense? Has this distorted world so clouded you that you must now yield to pithy human language to sate your curiosity? And if it has, can you ever return from whence you've come? Can your eyes readjust to a mist whence you've been born to the flame? You are no longer Gray, but a wild clash between Black and White, Void and Fire. You can never again be what you were. You have tasted a desire for vengeance, and in so doing, you yourself have become human."

    Again, Mizuki lifts her blade. "So answer us now in this language of human rationale to which you have become so accustomed: why do you wish to enter the Kiln? Are you truly capable of bringing back your kin and fleeing this place? Can /your/ world -- regardless of the state of this world -- ever be what it was now that it must contend, coexist with this world of Light and Darkness? Do you have not the faintest desire to see it gone, to see things rescinded, to have things as they were before? Prove to me that you are so uncaring. Prove this to me beyond your verbal insistence that you concern so little, and I will yield your way to you. Only if you pass my trial will I deign to participate in yours."

Nathan Hall (168) has posed:
    Nathan is annihilated by way of a horrible eye's power. Throughout the process, strangely, despite the INCREDIBLE degree of pain and the utter disorientation of the process, he never once screamed, and never once seemed to lose his stoic composure. He does, though, very briefly, make a noise of almost a sort of despair as the agony hits; that's about all the time he has to use before the spiking damage blasts him apart.

    You died, as they say.

    Nathan awakens in Union medical, sweating bullets and clutching at himself in unconscious panic, before spending some time controlling his breathing. When he returns to coherence, he immediately gets on the radio. "Keep him talking. Find out everything we can still know about this. Focus on the task, it is the only thing that matters. We need to know everything possible if we are going to find the right solution to move on efficiently."

    And there's a bit of muttering. Strained, stressed, turned away from the radio. "It's that eye again, it's that eye again, it's always that eye again..."

Lezard Valeth has posed:
Nathan is picked up and summarily obliterated.

Lezard smiles. Not because Nathan had probably just undergone an exquisitely painful annihilation, but now he can stop pretending to kowtow to this... this /dragon/. "ENOUGH." Lezard barks, as energies stream up around him in a dark storm, washing around him in a minor torrent. "We have tolerated your arrogance long enough. You may have savaged the weak godlings of Lordran, but you stand not against absentee lords and decrepit knights, but those who will be the new masters of this land. I do not bow to /dragons/. If you wish to have a better answer as to why you should heed our words, allow me to /demonstrate/."

Kalameet demonstrated his irritation by obliterating one of their number. Lezard has chosen to respond appropriately. He funnels that growing power through his Catalyst, and there is a flare of energy as a magical circle expands beneath his feet. The streaming sunlight itself seems to dim as Lezard begins to incant.

"As the harmoniums of Asgard sound, their very melody stirs the ancient lightnings to wake!"

High above, the sky scuds over with crackling clouds, sizzling bolts of power arcing between them before a massive, eye-searing form breaches them. A seething, sinuous length of lightning rips through the clouds, a toothed baw opening wide and bellowing in thunderous rage as it hurls itself downwards, streaming towards Kalameet.

"DRAGON BOLT!"

The impact should be, as they say, calamitous.

Tomoe has posed:
Tomoe pauses at the dragon's words she moves to act she's got an idea something is coming. Whatever it is she's too late and Nathan just is struck down by some power she'll never fully understand. She stare at what' happened and now turns her purople eyes to the dragon for a moment. She narrows them a bit, the rapid fire converstion on the radio. She shifts making ready she knows what to do and wht they will be doing soon.

"The gift was given to us of their own accod."

SHe's always been the muscole she's got an idea of why she's here why she's doing this? Yet she's having a hard time putting it into words.

"I am merely a fighter I am here to help achive our goal of making a stable cycle."

Then she can hear a very old meme related to MMORPGs going off in her head she watch as Lezxard just goes on in... she hears her olders and keeps a step back at this point. She'll wait for the go order however, she does seem ready to go for her weapon but does not.

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    Let it not be said that Amalthea does not react to the gruesome display of Kalameet simply removing Nathan. Soured as her feelings towards the Union general still may be, the sight still... Actually makes the unicorn cringe visibly, a tiny bell like sound of dismay whimpering in her throat. Desperately she hopes it went unheard; and she knows that as a phantom, Nathan will awaken back in Njorun, but it is still not the most pleasant experience; a fact she has learned from her time in Lordran, the very act near stunning her, physically, mentally, and spiritually from feeling the Dragon's palpable power unleashed in the act.
    It was not unlike watching a man squash a bug under thumb.
    For a moment, the normally stalward paladin is left standing dumb and starstruck, only Psyber managing to pull her from her stupor.
    The unicorn's own lone blue eye widens, knowing full well the intent behind the half-angel's threat and how well and true he means his words. And something in THAT sets Amalthea back on her game, hissing several whispers to the half-angel.
    In the span of a breath her lance is hoisted. Her features set into a scowl. "And thus, you silenced the man best suited to words among us... Now I shall speak."
    True to her word the golden phantom's language is one of action, a single forward pace carries into an immense leap, lance held aloft, she intends to speak to the heart of the issue with that silvered spear in a mighty thrust with all of her weight brought behind it in an immense surge of speed.

Priscilla has posed:
        " . . . do not take me for a fool . . . " replies the dragon, the masonry quivering as it begins to unwind itself from the stonework, fluidly dropping down from its perch with a jarring combination of catlike grace and earth shuddering impact. " . . . I know what you are and what you do . . . I am not interested in your diplomacy . . . your attempts to goad and wheedle and appease and twist words . . . I care not for your trust or approval . . . nor for anything you believe you have to give . . . I care not for any one hatchling or the simple perpetuation of our race . . . but to once again be able to see through all times and places as I was meant . . . " Kalameet barely fits on the bridge, the outer edge of his shoulders exceeding its breadth as one foot after the other crashes down on its surface, massive talons digging deep gouges into it with every, deliberate step.

    When Mizuki decides to take over, two things happen. The dragon's inexorable forward pace pauses momentarily, halfway across the bridge, the columns creaking plaintively at supporting its gargantuan weight, and for just a second, the stones between them cross the boundary of illusion and begin to sizzle in reality, hissing and steaming under the wave of overpowering, and oh-so-humanly irrational hatred that washes over them. The second thing is that Priscilla seems to have completely ignored the advice and urging of her closest allies, or at least felt so strongly about trying to salvage the rapidly escalating situation from spinning out of control that she has gone against all common sense to make a last ditch effort at asserting authority and legitimacy by revealing herself, the fell breeze associated with her presence momentarily tempering the heat of the full blooded dragon's.

    At her full, original size, she still has to look up to meet the gaze of that individual eye, but the effect is at least somewhat imposing regardless, standing between Kalameet, Mizuki and the others, with the proof of Seath's death drawn. "If thou wilst not heed them, then at least listen to I, for it shouldst bear at least half the legitimacy of whatever might be spoken by thee." Well if anyone could try to play peers, it would be her, but the maneuver seems no less desperate and ill-advised. "Thou knowest well why there is no trust in thee, and shouldst knoweth even moreso what misplaced trust may lead to. Within all reason, there is rationality to thine request, but less so in the hearts of others. Thou art-" Priscilla briefly struggles to find the words.

    The damage, however, is already done. The black dragon of calamity is beyond listening. Priscilla's sword arm responds to the motion of his head, but the movement that follows bears not the grandeur associated with the draconic, but the understated, terrifying suddenness of a striking pit viper. Moonlight scours only a grazing line across Kalameet's hide, and Kalameet's teeth sink straight into Priscilla's throat, his mane of horns tearing through the left side of her face with a horrifying explosion of blood, instantly soaking the front of her white dress deep crimson. The last glimpses of hope for resolution crumble apart as he tosses her off the edge of the bridge with a jerk of his neck, sending her into uncontrolled freefall and shattering the walkway behind him with a thundering lash of his tail in anger as two others appear to have decided to resist him by force before Priscilla had even stepped up.

Priscilla has posed:
    " . . . I WILL KILL YOU AS MANY TIMES AS NECESSARY . . . OVER AND OVER UNTIL THE END OF TIME . . . I WILL DESTROY EVERYTHING YOU KNOW AS MANY TIMES AS I NEED . . . UNTIL THE WEAKEST AMONG YOU BREAKS AND YIELDS PASSAGE . . . AND THUS IS THE ONLY ONE SPARED . . . " Lezard is the first to find one of the many reasons that even Gwyn was unable to kill Kalameet. In the exact opposite fashion of what an Everlasting Dragon should, he appears to possess an intrinsic, conceptual resilience to lightning and heavenly magics. What should normally blow a lesser dragon half to pieces finds him an unyielding obstacle, exploding across his jet black silhouette with all of its customary, awe-inspiring violence, and yet revealing little more than superficial burns and scoring as the light fades, planted firmly in the dragon's lifeless chest. His response is another, malignant flash from the beast's only eye, and an instant of unimaginable pain before the world abruptly explodes around him, wiping out his entire section of the bridge. Whether the lance is more threatening is a question left unanswered, because as Amalthea lunges towards him, Kalameet rears back with impossible speed for a creature of his size, and abruptly smashes the knight beneath several hundred tons of solid, quasi-living stone and entropy, vindictively repeating the gesture several more times as if a person stomping on a particularly resilient bug to make sure it is dead.

Psyber (253) has posed:
    It's not the attacks of others that jar Psyber from his lethargic stance and his lazy movements. He's used to other peopel comitting their violence around him while he takes his time or focuses on style. That's the nature of the way he holds back. Something he threatened to stop doing moments ago, but which went unnoticed by all but the unicorn.

    It's the fact that Kalameet just seriously hurt Priscilla, cutting open her throat and tearing her face before throwing her over the side of the bridge. It's in the moment he sees her hurt that his entire face and stance shift. It's as if something melted away from him, something that's perceivable even through the fact that he's in a ghostly form. He's got the stance of a hunter, of a being old and experienced. Of an Apex Predator or a Deathbringer.

    But that ominous and almost murderous posture is gone as Psyber has a more pressing matter to push onto: Priscilla. Before he can even think to deal with Kalameet, Priscilla is his top priority. His wings are out and, without a second thought, he's diving off the bridge after the Crossbreed. With her gargantuan size, plus the speed of her descent and him lacking solid ground to brace himself on, he's only trying to slow her fall.

    His goal is to grab her by the wrist (or barring that whatever he can find a handhold on) and beat his wings as hard as he can to try to keep the wounded Crossbreed from taking a lethal fall when she hits the bottom of the chasm.

Staren has posed:
    "If you truly want that, you would see us as powerful allies that can help you find the powers of the Multiverse..." Staren begins.

    "Priscilla, no!" Staren reaches out his hand.

    The machine dives off the bridge, transforming into a plane-with-arms-and-legs and speeding down into the ravine with its thrusters, trying to get into position to grab Priscilla. Staren's thoughts, all thought in the next instant, are turned into words and sent to the speakers on automatic in the slow, cumbersome time it takes to say them out loud:

    "The power of the Multiverse shall be denied to you. You will never see through all times and places. Your vision shall end at the moment of your destruction, knowing you might have sought that power, and your actions prevented it. If you truly do not understand, then die feeling the frustration of not understanding why. That shall be your punishment."

Lezard Valeth has posed:
Lezard stares for a moment as he realizes, in his own arrogance, what the obvious, first, primary reason why Gwyn could not defeat Kalameet.

It's the one goddamn dragon immune to lightning.

However, in the aftermath of that realization is the burning, overwhelming sensation of the Eye of Calamity as it focuses upon him, shredding his phantom body to its essence and letting it spiral out into gleaming, crimson motes of chaotic whorl, useless but for the fading sound of Lezard's single shriek of agony and impotent rage even as the bridge follows momentarily thereafter.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Only once Mizuki truly begins to comprehend how human Kalameet is, does she begin to understand the sheer depth of the atrocity her words have wrought. She could have been a mitigating force -- she could have attempted to, as only so few of those in their group could, sympathize with him. Earnestly reach out to him rather than doing so with tactical 'precision', as a scalpel prodding through organs. For that's what she was doing, wasn't it? Every word was breathed with the presumption that things would fall out this way, every confidence tinged with an inclination toward the 'inevitable'... and now it truly is inevitable. Or likelier still, she is again overestimating the impact she has, or could have had on Kalameet; he, who has had so many years hence to 'change his mind', as it were. What were her words against all that? ... nothing. They were exactly as empty as he presumed them to be.

    She was right about one thing: Kalameet lusts solely to reclaim something that he has lost. This is one of the few times when her recent few years of experience have worked to her disadvantage. She has become so immersed in a world of other people that she forgot how she once was when she was alone; all she sought then was revelation after revelation, epiphany after epiphany. It is the maddening condition of humanity to perpetually be 'almost there'. It is perhaps the most defining aspect of their psychology to seek a sort of balance, or failing that, ultimateness and completeness, and in this way Kalameet is indeed -more- human than any of the others here. Why? For once, that answer is simple: it is because he tasted of such Knowing once before, and rather than seeking what he does not know, he instead yearns to reclaim an understanding he has lost.

    At once, all Mizuki's guards fall: her head begins to pound anew, her eyes squeeze shut to dull her feelings of illness, and her mind screams that something is terribly, terribly wrong. It is not really concern over what Mizuki might have /done/ to Kalameet that ails her, but what she /sees/ in him; Mizuki hates nothing more than those things that remind her of herself, her failings, her iniquities. Kalameet, as she does, wants only to have a grasp over reality that will allow him to transcend a need for purpose, circumvent all those things that might contradict. Lacking that sense of certainty is maddening. Lacking that sort of control is horrifying. These truths are infinitely multiplied when one grasped them before, only to lose them.

    So it is that Mizuki finally begins to comprehend the true source of Kalameet's anguish. It is not so much a hatred as it is a -fear-: a fear that consumes all, takes precedent over everything. The only solace she can find in this realization is that there was indeed never a chance of this diplomatic venture having any success -- there is nothing they could ever offer Kalameet that would be tantamount in value to what he seeks. His goal is entirely intrinsic, the external world but a dream. Worse still, she doubts that what he seeks is even feasible to obtain; if the story of Adam and Eve is any indication, one can never return once they have fallen from paradise. Outwardly, Mizuki can only continue to stagger, holding her head firmly such that her thoughts won't slough off into oblivion.

    She has learned all that she feels they could have learned, however:

    this is the way things had to be.

    Yet isn't it so easy to plead inevitability once an event has already transpired.

Xiaomu (707) has posed:
"You eternally blighted spawn of an undergrown salamander ... !"

It sounds like Xiaomu's had all she's going to hold still for, between Priscilla getting brutally and messily murdered and Amalthea getting ground into the bridge. Psyber and Staren are already trying to save the half-dragon, so she doesn't even try to intervene on that front - and there's nothing she could do productively anyway; she can't project ice far enough down to provide a surface to land on.

Instead, she lobs a grenade, trying to chuck it down Kalameet's throat, and follows up with a hail of anti-spirit bullets from her handguns, Silver and Platinum. Ice would probably be better than fire against a dragon, but she's not about to charge into melee range and make it EASY for the Calamity to consume her, Phantom or not.

In fact, if the best she can do is stall Kalameet from taking anyone ELSE out, she's happy to go with a fighting retreat. She'd just as soon not experience death, even if the advantage of being a Phantom is that it's not going to stick as hard -

Although she has to wonder, if the one who summoned everyone in Phantom form just got wiped out ... what happens to the Phantoms?

Tomoe has posed:
Tomoe gets an better idea about Kalameet at this point and has a damn good idea at this part. She has an idea whewre this is going then things start to get worse. She tries to call out a warning but she's hit by the irrational hate it's overpowering. She stakes a step back She looks at the dragon she takes a deep breath.

"PRIS!"

She summons Mooncutter rather than her normal sword and boar.d She leaps into the air her wings flaring out bright red and she makes dive at the draon. She's a tank, she knows what to do here get it's attention keep it on her.

"I'm just an ant but ... even I know ants in numbers CAN STRIPE THE FLESH FROM THE BONES OF THEIR GREATERS!"

With tht she's charging her blade is charged with light magic too as she attemps to strike put her weapon touse. She's not even sure now if shes' /safe/ as an avatar but it's too late, too many habits and muscle memories acting here.

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    There is little to really say of what transpires... Amalthea's leap is arrested by swift and decisive violence. Blue eye widens as she barely gets out a sound. That speed is surprising. That speed is fatal. Batted down once like that is enough to end the fight in her, but the series of blows to follow leave little more than a jumbled and crumpled mass of gold in a crater, the glowing incandescent heap of scrap metal whining with a grind of servos, before dissipating.
    It is not a pleasant experience. But the last sight of Priscilla being flung from the bridge will not be one that leaves her for a long while.

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    Shirou does his best to keep his head cool and clear despite the chaos that Lezard unleashes. He can only hope that Priscilla can sort things out, but Kalameet has gone HOSTILE.

    Hostile enough to mangle his half-kin. "PRISCILLA!"

    Shirou dives over to the bridge's edge, but although superhuman in doing so... Psyber's faster. And has wings, something Shirou decisively lacks.

    Were Psyber not a million times better suited for a midair rescue and possessing a headstart, there's no doubting Shirou would've been pulling SOMETHING to try to do similar.

    Up he stands, instead... "TRACE... ON!" Gathering power in his phantom body, Shirou VAULTS backwards towards the bridge's rear and up onto a ledge. A black bow forms in his hands, far more his size - if not exactly style - than the Dragonslayer Greatbow.

    There's only one thing he can possibly do that could stop Kalameet, and he doubts it will work. Something nearly suicidal that he could only possibly afford to as a phantom!

    His mind springs to work, mental gears churning and spirit sizzling. Judging concepts, materials, designs, accelerating all the steps needed to produce a legend. It would burn out anyone else's brain... but what instead burns is Shirou's palm. Something WEIRD appears in his grasp. Neither sword nor arrow, the metal artifact is something curiously in-between. The ornate golden hilt's streamlined and gleaming blade strangely warped and twisted into a spiral.

    Determination and concentration at a blazing height, SHirou nocks this strange 'arrow' and draws back. As he does the projectile lengthens and thins out herky-jerkily, but eventually settles into a shape much closer to the arrow it's supposed to be.

    It doubtlessly suffers from such crude alterations, but that just can't be helped.

    The arrow begins to shine in no time at all! Space itself is rent asunder into a spiraling mess around the 'arrow's tip. Shirou stays that way for about ten seconds, until he's poured every erg of energy into that arrow that his phantom body can spend!

    "CALADBOLG!"

    For a first time projection of an altered Noble Phantasm he's only seen once, it's not too terrible.

    With the practiced motion of an archer who's fired many times he lets fly that arrow... and the force is enough to CRUSH THE STONE behind him. The 'arrow' drills through space itself, containing unfathomable penetrating power. It's the singular best precision blow Shirou can think of!

    And it's headed straight for where he hopes is Kalameet's heart.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    ... yet, Mizuki does not remain completely addled for long. Still reeling but not quite gone, Mizuki hefts - and indeed, it does feel such a weight as to constitute a 'heft' now - her blade, looking toward Psyber and Priscilla. She cleaves a gash in the air, sending a rippling, prismatic boomerang of light forward... until the thing gradually slows, expanding vertically, then horizontally. A portal opens to demonstrate the face of the clock tower, and from it, a familiar figure with gleaming blue eyes and snow-tinted hair comes through. She remains to block any attacks that might come her way, and Mizuki's phantom, for its part, disintegrates completely.

    Apathy's presence should be enough to keep the portal open, for now.

Staren has posed:
    Oh. Mizuki was thinking with portals. That frees up Staren, then!

    About three dozen missiles of various types are the first to launch, streaking around in on arks of smoke to hit Kalameet from angles where Tomoe and Xiaomu won't get caught in the blasts. It jelps that Kalameet is so BIG. Trying to pierce skin and explode, or dump so much energy into an area that electrons are stripped from their nuclei (or... whatever the Multiverse translates that into for a place like Lordran). A few loop around in an especially wide ark to simply crash in and blow up a large amount of high-powered but conventional explosive.

    The Star Hawk is lifting back up to the bridge's level. Beams of energy fire from the leg packs, and a burst of hypersonic metal slugs thrown so fast their passing ignites the air in a pillar of fire. And all the while, the right shoulder pack begins to expand and unfold into a massive, long-barreled rifle of some sort.

Priscilla has posed:
    Shirou, in his earlier assessment, had been completely right. A wide open bridge over a steep drop is one of the absolute worst places imaginable to fight a dragon of almost any descriptor, even if it barely fits. Even as the bullets rake across Kalameet's scales, the grenade explodes in his face, and the Sword Art enhanced blade, lashes across his wrist, the dragon will not be dissuaded from acting the part of inchoate rage incarnate, cracking and shattering the work of a generation of mortal man beneath his titanic mass. The utterly unnatural motions of a thrashing mountain batter down on Xiaomu and Tomoe, with hands the size of cars and tail the length of a building. As Caladbolg screeches through the air, Kalameet whips his head around to transfix it with his gaze, and just like that, mere feet from burying itself in his skull, the Noble Phantasm freezes in midair, shrouded in the same pulsing corona of burning orange, before it violently shatters.

    The nearly-successful magus follows. A gigantic dragon is already a physically dangerous opponent, but one that a group of powerful Elites could potentially deal with in direct combat. The eldritch power to seize, kill and destroy with a single glance however, appears for the moment to be insurmountably unfair. First Shirou is subject to the same crucifixion and detonation sequence as the two before him, and then the bridge abruptly crumbles in a haze of sunset light beneath the feet of those still on its broader expanse. Mizuki has just enough time to erect the portal before those monolithic wingbeats carry the black beast skywards, clearing the standing remains of the bridge, where in a manner typical of dragons, it unleashes its breath weapon.

    For those who might remember however, the breath weapon is exactly what Priscilla had warned about. It certainly appears to be some kind of fire, but the comparison is loose even superficially. It doesn't come forth in a burning plume or liquid stream, but a deluge that speaks of huge, physical weight, plummeting from the sky like a hail of falling stars; mixed flames of inky black Dark and radiant gold Fire, reacting with themselves with apocalyptic violence. The flames don't seem to diminish or disperse as they fall, but only multiply and grow stronger, as if expanding from critical fusion. Where they fall on solid objects, they only expand exponentially, turning into sweeping blast waves that wipe clear hundreds of meters of ground in every direction, like the leading edge of a nuclear bomb. The damage is only partially consistent with ludicrously high temperature, the rest of the destruction seeming to be wrought from some other, unknowable magic.

    At first, it simply hoses from front to back of the remaining bridge, drowning each remaining landbound Elite in sequence. Then, as a hail of missiles and lasers detonate against the dragon's side, momentarily obscuring his silhouette in smoke and fire and scarring his black hide with blast points, the uninterrupted stream turns on those in the air going on and on with the defeaning roar of an afterburner, Kalameet never seeming to need to pause for breath. Staren's sheer bulk, fortunately, shields Psyber and Priscilla long enough to make use of the portal, but unfortunately, means he eats twenty times as much as anyone else in his act of heroism; something even the Star Hawk isn't built to handle. In all likelihood, anyone who isn't already 'dead', will be made so very, very soon if they feel like staying to distract the dragon longer.

Priscilla has posed:
    Meanwhile, Priscilla's condition is just barely not as bad as it had first appeared. The scales of immortality around her neck have prevented the dragon's jaws from crushing her neck entirely, and her shared physiology means that she won't die from not being able to breathe with all the remaining holes in her throat, but she is losing a /lot/ of blood, and everything from her chin to the underside of her brow on the left side of her face is a scarlet wreck, the worst being around her eye where her horns had deflected the remaining force downward. She stares back at Psyber in a state of strangely lucid shock with the one remaining that she has, mouthing something without anything coming out.

Staren has posed:
    Staren bets he /could/ have at least made some show of fighting this thing. He can fly faster than that annihilation breath.

    But Priscilla and the portal are still behind him.

    The Star Hawk transforms into humanoid mode and holds out its left arm, projecting a sort of 'beam shield'. Staren screams to himself, not over the speakers or radio, in silent frustration as he watches his damage indicators climb faster than the charge indicator for the anti-Wireless railgun, before simply being replaced with a red X as the magitech railcannon is burnt away. The main camera goes, and Staren's view is shifted through various alternate views -- under his shield, the rear of the machine, as parts are burnt away. Part of his mind turns to thinking of how one could fight such a seemingly invincible foe. The best approach he can think of is simply unmaking reality around Kalameet. Would he cease to exist, or would he be trapped in his own pocket universe, seperate from the Multiverse, forever? Staren doesn't particularly care, but it's a comforting thought as damage indicators rise and sensors fail. Then for a moment there is darkness, as Staren has no remaining sensors to see or hear through, and the Star Hawk's radio has been burnt away, his view of the mecha's status replaced by a single flashing word:

DISCONNECTED

    Then the cyberbrain is burned away and existance ends.

YOU DIED

    Staren is back in the hangar. He would breathe a sigh of relief, but he has no lungs. His mind fills with ways he might unleash the power to kill Kalameet. There must be a way...

    At least this death was painless.

Xiaomu (707) has posed:
Wherever Xiaomu parked her body prior to Priscilla summoning her and Reiji, she wakes up ... and almost, ALMOST, wishes she hadn't.

But then, not waking up after something like THAT would probably mean she was actually dead, which is something that (as a probably-immortal fox spirit) she's just as happy to avoid for as long as possible.

And on that note, she manages to turn enough to look over at Reiji, and make sure he's still breathing, whether his Phantom is still active out there or not.

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    Shirou didn't think STOPPING Caladbolg was remotely possible. Tanking it? Tanking it, sure. STOPPING it?!

    He gapes ever so slightly in awe.

    It's all the time he HAS before the dreadful calamitous force wrenches him from his perch and flays him to bits. He barely has time to scream. A gurgly, panicked noise is all that comes out before his phantasmal self is crushed and torn apart in a flare of golden light, only to disperse into nothing within the next few moments.

    YOU DIED

    Back in Dun Realtai, in his Room, Shirou 'awakens' with the REST of that yell, no doubt waking half the castle if anyone's awake... and toppling off his bed. He's curled up into a fetal position from the AGONY before he can think twice about it.

    Worst of all, now he's not there to try and help anyone, AND even with Saber within a few hundred feet Avalon can't help him with THIS sort of 'injury' at all.

    So for now he lays on the floor, incapacitated and making all kinds of gibberish noises.

Psyber (253) has posed:
    Psyber attempts to stymie the bleeding as best he can by wrapping the phantom vestiges of his jacket around her throat, leaving him without such a thing as he gently delivers her through Mizuki's portal, "Nathan is going to be on the way. You stay here. I still have... something to do."

    It's that look of shock in her eye and the wounds on her face that cut him most deeply. When it had been Nathan, it was aggravating, though he was a phantom so Psyber had yet to lose control of his restraint at that moment. And seeing her so wounded, so vulnerable, looking up at him causes something in Psyber to snap and shatter.

    The half-angel deposits her into the portal and then turns away from it, wings flapping to bring the half-angel up once more, through the fire and destruction he was shielded from on the way down. He doesn't expect to win, he doesn't want to take a foolish rush at Kalameet. As he touches down on one of the ruined pillars that once composed a bridge.

    His red eyes shine, even through his blue spirit, with a predatory gaze as he looks upon the dragon. He slowly brushes back his cloak and draws the revolver he had his hand on earlier, spinning it in his hand as he looks at Kalameet. When he speaks, his voice lacks the showmanship or flair he usually has. With everyone gone, he has no reason to restrain himself.

    "I was willing to... hold patience, when you killed the spectral form of my best friend. And to entertain your demands which you made. However, you have harmed Priscilla, and for this I will be incapable of granting you any further ground. Whatever actions my allies take in the future, you have awoken something which you cannot comprehend," Psyber says flatly, glaring at the dragon.

    "Out of respect for many, I show restraint. I have curbed the violence of my nature and the perfection of my predation towards monsters. This is because I have come to hold certain beliefs, certain people, dear to me. You have injured one such person." Psyber continues, looking onward at the eternal beast.

    "You will see me again, regardless of all else. Regardless of any other action. And it will be by my flesh and blood hands and my blade that you are taught the meaning of mortality. Please understand that while you may be Calamity... when necessary, I am willing to do things so much more monstrous to protect those I am sworn to. I will place you in check, dragon. Rest assured, the next time we meet will be the last."

    And with that overt promise made, Psyber lifts the revolver he was spinning and... places the barrel up to his temple. And he promptly pulls the trigger, dissolving his phantom form in a spray of ghostly essence before it fades away.

Tomoe has posed:
They had been warned about the fire, she knew it was bad but when she's hit as she's getting the thing's attention it's not quite like anything she's been hit with before. There's nothing much that she can do other than attempt to tank it. For all her powers, for all her abilities? There's just somethings that Tomoe can not take nor tank.

This turns out to be up there with the Skull Reaper and then some.

Tomoe is caught in the flames There's just nothing left in the aftermath save a dimly glowing bright red flame which won't last more than a moment or so before it too vanishes in a burst of light.

YOU HAVE DIED