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Bloody Revelations     Those who came before return to Whitewall not as they left it. Though the towering circular barrier that is the city's namesake remains just as it was; near-impassably high, white as the last remaining snow of spring, and only just flaking in parts to reveal the tiny hints of the magnificent portraits beneath; the warm, blanketing aura of watchful safety that had practically tingled to the skin is auspiciously absent. Without the comforting glow of the sun on its immaculate streets and cozy old architecture, and the carefree chatter of its metropolitan citizens out and about, it just doesn't quite feel like the same place.

    It's not hard to tell why neither are present. Though it is the late afternoon, the rays of the sun can only be seen at a great distance, so suddenly pinched off it looks almost to be a shimmering, golden screen, miles away. Overhead, the sky is blotted out by a swirling disc of iron-black clouds that is positioned directly above the city's geometric center, casting everything inside, and a ways beyond the walls, into deep shadow, as well as a layer of muffling quiet.

    It looks like the Guardians have been gathered in full force, with easily thousands of men and women visible in full battle regalia, alongside an astonishing number of stranger elemental creatures. Most of them are clustered atop the wall itself, where its iron tracks have been used to roll a massive battery of heavy ballistae and onagers to the fore; as many as can be arrayed along its eastern perimeter. The militia is practically a token, kept well within the city and on the streets, most likely to serve as supply lines to the walls or to keep civil order should a battle actually break out.

    It seems to be what they're prepared for. There are clearly huge chains for supplying ammunition laid out, and from a high vantage, anyone can see that the entire city has been surrounded by an extremely large circle of salt, with the field beyond it filled with iron caltrops, hedging bets against both ghost and fae. Beyond that killzone, the grass blackens and ruddy orange fires dot the distance, lighting the thick darkness cast by the unnatural clouds. The stench of blood and burning flesh, even very faintly, carries all the way to the city itself, and flocks of crows can be seen wheeling overhead, waiting for the flames to die down.

    It must come as a great shock to the city's defenders, then, when no marauding army appears. Instead, obscured by the overcast shadows, only a single figure arrives, trudging slowly across the no-man's land, and stopping at the line of salt, tilting its head up slowly to look at the siege engines packed end to end atop the massive wall. Visibility is terrible, but there are those with the senses, both supernatural and common sense, to know who it is. Who else could it possibly be?

    A man in heavy armour takes to the easternmost tower, grabbing the highest point he can. It's nearly impossible to tell in the dim lighting, but his gear shines with the glimmer of high concentrations of magical materials, and his voice booms across the air with an amplifying quality all of its own, forceful and commanding. A cohort leader, most likely.

    "By authority of the Syndic gods of Whitewall, I demand that you halt, outlander. This line marks the territorial space of Whitewall as according to the Thousand-Year Pact. Trespassing beyond it constitutes a violation of the treaty, and thus a declaration of war, to which we will respond in kind. My words are the words of Whitewall. Wait as you are, and a messenger will attend to relay your response back." The figure doesn't move, swaying slightly as it examines the ancient, holy walls, and the many, giant iron bolts and stones aligned atop them.
Staren     The Star Hawk arrives, followed by a sonic boom. The locals might not know what to make of a plane, but it slows down and transforms to something resembling a warstrider before landing -- outside the circle and some distance away from Revelations, facing her.

    Staren does not believe she's alone. There's probably going to be some giant undead monsters crawling out of the ground any second now. <"Whitewall, I am here as an ally to you if she breaks the treaty."> Staren announces over loudspeakers, since Whitewall hasn't seen him before. They may or may not believe him. Suspicion is healthy -- they'll see his intentions when a fight breaks out.
Young Arthur The young King of Britain has met Bloody Revelation in a duel, but this is not a duel. Joining the Guardians on the wall is a full century of Britons, and they brought onagers and ballistae of their own with them. The ones not manning the siege engines are armed with bows, and an abundant supply of arrows is brought along. They are there to bolster Whitewall's defenses, just in case.

The King himself stands on the wall, the hearthstone of Avalon planted down, and one hand on his hilt. When the stranger arrives, the young man's eyes narrow and his lips tighten into a grim line. Young he may be, but he's no stranger to the business of death, and he knows enough of this world to know a single enemy can be as lethal as an army. "Aim, but hold. Wait for my signal." He instructs his men, who prepare to loose their arrows upon whom they suspect to be their enemy quite soon.
Septette Arcubielle      Repairs, monster-slaying, repairs, politics, scavenging parts, repairs. Even in the anticipation of an attack like this, Septette's duties are ceaseless, keeping her home from descending into chaos and her body clinging to some semblance of functionality. She's worlds away from Whitewall when the message goes out.

     That changes quickly.

     One Ariadne's Thread jump later, and the yggdroid is plummeting through the air thousands of feet above the city- a stylish entrance that she's quite fond of, but one that serves an unanticipated secondary purpose here: she's able to pass right by that disc of black clouds above the city, analyzing them with her technological sensors and magical acumen for any unusual properties that might prove useful. One doesn't just create a weather distortion of that magnitude for atmosphere, after all.

     It'll still be several moments before she lands, but she seems to be coming down near the city's wall on the side facing the hooded figure- whether inside it or outside it remains to be seen; her trajectory could still be shifted slightly to respond to the situation. For now, she's visible as a subtle streak of light; air friction hasn't had the chance to heat her bones to glowing, but the light of her red core does a decent approximation of a tiny shooting star nonetheless.
Tomoe Tomoe knew things were going down again it didn't take too long for her to find out, to have her running for the warp gate. One had to live with what they did and now she starts to think taking out the Bull may have brought a far worse fate down upon White Wall. She's moving rapidly out of the gate hell she's flying at this point using her large red feather like energy wings to take to the skies. It would give her rapid mobility. She was going to join up with Gawain but he makes a note he might be of more use elsewhere? So that's what she's gong to do. he's right with what powers she has? She could boosts those defending the city notably.

She's not fooling around either Caliburn is strapped across her back. It's not the Caliburn but a replication from ALO, still the copy has a power to it and Tomoe will put it to use. She'll land on the battlements with the defenders. She lands out comes the mourning wall and she sets off a chain buff on those defenders who are in range to her a defence buff to allow them to endure damage they might not otherwise endure.

"Soldiers of White Wall make ready!"
Alucard Tepes     The form of the lavender-white wolf can be glimpsed, running at a speed fast enough to leave behind an indistinct blur. That would be Alucard, in the form of a wolf, heading for where the rest of the Elites are gathering. The wolf skids to a stop before it hits anyone, but near enough to the Elites that he's visible.

    Once he's stopped, his form blurs and stands up, and when it coalesces again, it is his dhampir form. This time, much like the last, he's not hiding his abilities. He knows this is going to be a massive struggle, and that he cannot afford to be skittish about bringing his full power to bear.
Devola and Popola P: "Do you think they'll survive this?"
D: "Doubt it. There's too many soldiers here. Too many weapons. It'd be impossible to miss."
P: "I was talking about the locals."
D: "I was, too."

    The twin androids can be seen chattering between themselves atop the wall, oddly enough only looking vaguely interested in slowly approaching the battle line going as far as they can see. They've seen Bloody Revelations before, and it doesn't take them long to figure out that all this power gathered to stop a single entity can only mean that there's probably going to be a lot of corpses around by the time the day is done.
    
    That doesn't mean they won't try to stop some of these people from becoming statistics, though. There's sacks full of healing supplies laid out around them,  small crates full of bandages arranged neatly behind them, but they still don't look all that confident about the whole situation. Still, the androids are looking about as ready as they'll ever be.
    
D: "Be careful out there. We can't bring you back up here if you're dead."
P: "We can bring your weapons back, though, if we anyone else needs them!"
Gawain When the alarm sounds, Gawain's bolting out of his patrol immediately, heading straight for Whitewall. He doesn't exactly know the situation, but he's declared that he'll help Whitewall, and he'll keep his promise. When he actually arrives near the city, Gawain senses the aura, and takes a moment to realize exactly who would be here attacking - Bloody Revelations and likely her monster, here to make an example of them as she promised. Bolting into the city, waving his Paladin's badge, and summoning his armor and sword, Gawain rushes past all of the guards...wait, he's not there to reinforce them?

No. Gawain's heading straight for the temple-Manse, telling it apart by the fact that it is a giant gold-covered building and is the tallest building in the city, and also in the center. Leaping over rooftops, he runs as rapidly as possible to get towards the gate. The Knight of the Sun is going to attempt...to just open the gate. And if that fails, hit it with his sword. Or leap over it. Smash his body into it. Either way, Gawain is attempting to break and enter into the Temple-Manse because he's still not at full-energy - a use of Excalibur Galatine right now likely wouldn't be strong enough without being self-fatal. There's a shout to any nearby allies, as well as over radio. "I'm attempting to breach the Manse! Hold them off!"
Starbound Flotilla "Urgent. We have to save them!!"
"Lass, we've no obligation to save them, and every time ye tell me I've an obligation, I feel a little less obligated."
"We'll find it quite difficult to be paid in the event of our employer's death."
"Well, probably not death. More like running away."
"They'll have no payment for us either way. Clandestine work."
"Floran thinksss, get pay for defend, and then for job."
"Aye. 'Tis the only way."

"Get Project Starstrider ready."
"It's untested."
"Did ye hear me ask if it was fucking tested?"
"Floran will go to fuel!!"
"I'll begin preparations for teledrop, if you truly think them prepared."
"Anxious. Booting armor systems."
"You had better make this work."
"Aye. Get us into position."

    From orbit, a light descends, though it's hard to see through the clouds It's soon flanked by five others in a spiraling radial pattern. They're not landed, and not landing for a short while more. Pavo, in her cramped cockpit, contemplates the situation. She's learned something from Bloody Revelations, and she doesn't remotely hold a grudge against her, or even dislike her. But right now, it's likely that she's between Pavo and Pavo's payday. With a grim determination, she furrows a brow and resolves to fight. But not for the manse, or even for the population. Only to keep her employers in a position to finally deliver on their promise.

    ...And a chance to express her newfound grasp of greed and godhood. She radios back to the city that called them in. "Mortals of Whitewall," She says over the roar of orbital entry. "You have prayed and received my miracle of defense and strength. My power will strike them with fury and fire." Her fresh delusions rise up and surge through her again, this nihilistic egomaniacal disregard for the boundaries of mortality and humanity. "And your enemy will know the folly of opposing those who pray for my blessings."

    And of course, all this will be available on Bloody Revelations' radio as well, most likely. A fresh demonstration of the true depths of Pavo's most recent lesson in destructively blurring her own lines between godhood and mortality. The Flotilla forces will land soon, where it may wind up seeming best in the battlefield that may yet emerge...
Miari With only a few days to prepare for an unknown battle, Miari has only been able to do so much.

    She has provided thaumaturgical enchantments to weapons of all sorts and encrustings of salt that will render even a simple sword capable of inflicting grievous injury to ghosts who'd normally be unbothered by such. She has summoned a few scholarly demons and questioned them as much about Hekatonkhire as they knew.

    But when all is said and done, she was not able to come up with any trump cards or aces up her sleeve. No special weapons, no spectacular spells.

    She is outside the city, far from the walls, and several minutes of walking away from the distant Bloody Revelations, having arrived flanked by two dozen hulking, crimson-furred, ape-like creatures that reek of blood and gore and ten enormous, wasp-demons that shimmer and gleam with a million breathtakingly beauteous features from rainbow wings to gleaming stingers reminiscent of fine swords. The apes are all armed and armored, an unusual sight for demons - gleaming polished breastplates, helmets, and spiked gauntlets designed specifically to let their claws still rip and tear.
Bloody Revelations     The person in the distance doesn't budge when the allied forces make their presence known. The variety of flashy entrances don't seem to elicit a response. They wait patiently at the edge of the gigantic circle of salt. Almost as if they're waiting for them all to show up.

    It doesn't look like anyone there is prepared to turn down any allies they're lucky to get. Crackling inferno in the distance and the noise of carrion birds discourages any haughtiness and underscores emergent pragmatism, even when those allies drop right out of the sky. On the way down, going through them. the thick clouds smell of rust and iron, and are completely dry to the touch, but don't seem to do much else. At least not at the moment. There is certainly an amount of energy building up inside of them.

    A handful of men advise Gawain against his charge into the Temple-Manse, claiming nobody has ever survived the attempt, but they don't stop him. They probably couldn't anyways. Even cast under the unnatural blanket of darkness, he can /feel/ its warming tingle on his skin, through his armour. Even though much of it seems to be directed away, he can naturally perceive the coursing of tremendous amounts of power below him, spreading out into the city, from this central point. The clouds seem a little less dark. The air a little less cold. The atmosphere a little less stifling.

    Unfortunately, it's not as easy as bashing down the gates. Though they appear to be immaculately varnished wood, carved head to toe in thousands of lines of prayers written in Old Realm, his sword bites only partially into it. A great deal of Essence, close enough to prana, momentarily leaks from the gouge, telling him just how much is reinforcing its structural integrity. Moments later, the dense scripture soaring overhead fills with a golden stream of light, and a violent blast of the same strikes him in the front, hurling him away as a warning shot; albeit one that would normally take him straight off the peak and down the long fall into the streets.

    When Staren makes his presence, and intent, known over the loudspeakers, though, the one outside doesn't wait much longer, throwing their cloak aside and speaking as to remove any doubt who it is, if there even was any. "That's funny. I don't remember signing any treaty. Are you confusing me for someone weak enough to actually treat you as equals? I know there are a few in the area." The way her voice carries, she needs no messenger either. The captain can respond straight from the wall.

    "Those who negotiate with Whitewall are not weak, but wise. No force in thousands of years has ever affected these walls. No magic of the Fair Folk, the Demons, or even the Deathlords has ever left it mark on these consecrated stones. No ghost nor demon or fae has ever entered so brazenly. You know full well that your powers are no greater than theirs. You have nothing to accomplish here. Attempting this is suicide."

    Out in the darkened fields, Bloody Revelations lets out a slow, bracing exhalation, letting out her breath as if part of some meditative kata. The barest smoulder of her caste mark can be seen as an ember in the distance. Her feet shift gradually across the cold and blackened earth, her stance shifting lower, and her hands drifting to her waist and the small of her back, hovering over the hilt of her sword strapped there. "You really think you've thought of everything, don't you? That the Unconquered Sun's blessings can protect you from the entire world. No. I'm not committing suicide. I'm committing genocide."
Bloody Revelations     The flash of motion is legitimately too quick to keep track of. Steel sings from the scabbard, and then the blade that comes out seems to disintegrate into thin air. As if the sword was only an illusion, it ceases to exist in the same instant it was glimpsed. The Deathknight slashes her arm through the air several times in rapid succession, giving only the barest, flickering impression of still being armed, and then snaps it back into its sheathe where the hilt suddenly /is/ again. There is no spike of energy. No signature of magic. Her Anima doesn't appear, and no Essence scatters into the air. Yet, not even a split second later, a flower of catastrophic gouges splits deep into the wall's face, letting off the screech of shearing metal and shattering stone as a near-simultaneous barrages of massively magnified cuts bites into it, layering one on top of the other in the blink of an eye. For just a moment, the plaster is blown away, and a twenty meter tall mosaic of a great battle won by men with the sun on their brown is visible. Then the whole thing caves in, blown inward by the sheer cumulative force.

    The walls become an uproar immediately. Gunnery captains and Guardian cohorts scream orders over the din, vying to be heard over the tumbling of rent stones. The siege engines all go off at once, flinging a tempest of iron and stone alongside waves of hundreds of arrows as the accompanying archers fire, filling every inch of the air with a descending blanket of fire that would be impossible to avoid.

    Except, then, the worst possible thing happens. The Deathknight gives a quick, casual kick to the line of salt, and the earth explodes upward, a mile into the air, under the force of a quicksilver geyser ripping its way free into the open air. A veritable sea of toxic mercury spills into the sky, and with it, a choking, palpable miasma of vicious malevolence unlike anything else. Possessed, it stretches itself wide enough to catch the hailstorm, countless arrows, bolts and stones slamming into its rippling silver bulk, and it devours every one of them, hungrily absorbing the Guardians' assault with nothing more than sizzles of burning wood and rock. The wave-like motion finally resumes, and it crashes to the ground, only to surge explosively across the ground. It completely ignores Miari, coursing right past her, like a hound running down a fox and able to see nothing else of the world. It blasts itself through the hole in the wall and pours into the streets as a flood.

    Vodak is inside the holy walls of Ondar Shambal.
Young Arthur The incantation is a little rushed as it seems there is far less time than the young king had hoped, but he declares his kingship and draws Calibourne, and with it, a light shines upon Creation, glorious sacred light that one may far too easily mistake for the blessing of the Unconquered sun. A beacon of strength, a blessing, and it is then immediately forged into an attack.

Arthur swings his weapon at the assailant, and the sacred authority of his rule forms into a brilliant wave that flows towards her. This, his men know to be the signal, and thus they loose their arrows, the ballistae launch mighty bolts, and the onagers throw barrels full of burning tar.
Gawain When the men advise Gawain against his charge, he just smiles at them and waves a hand. "I must get inside there, if I'm going to assist all of you! Please, do not worry about me!" His mere presence is knightly - an aura that might wash over those telling him to back off. And despite the fact that the sun is not visible, Gawain can feel it empowering him, as he runs into the gate. And it refuses to budge or break. Magic. He frowns, and is about to try another strike, when he realizes the feel of the energy inside, and then it shoots him in the chest, knocking him down several flights of stairs.

Despite this, Gawain forces himself to get right back up, checking his armor to see if he brought any herbal remedies in case of another strike - and he did. Good. If the doors aren't going to let him in, there's only one other thing he can do.

Plead.

Climbing back up and crouching on one knee, Gawain shouts to the Temple-Manse, setting his sword on fire and holding it aloft in one hand. If this doesn't work, he wants his weapon already there. "Solar Manse! Hear my plea! I am Sir Gawain of Lot and Orkney, Knight of the Sun, Knight of Camelot, Knight of the Round Table, Knight of Dun Realtai, Warden of the Paladins, citizen of Chicago, former member of the Union, and a protector of those who need such! Whitewall is in danger from a threat of dark forces, and I need your power to defend it and the citizens inside! My allies need your power so that we can stop these fell beasts! Please heed me, Manse, for I seek you no harm, but I will fight for that power so that I can assist everyone in Whitewall! So that these people can live to see another day!" It is an impassioned plea, entirely genuine, as he stares up at the scripture. He's hoping it works. If not, he's going to have to use his fire sword to try and strike the gate down, and hopefully not keep getting lasered.
Gawain On recommendation, Gawain adds one more thing at the end of his prayer. "Unconquered Sun, please lend me your power!"
Staren     'That's funny, I don't remember signing any treaty.'

    That's all Staren needs to hear. A salvo of missiles launches, raining down towards the Abyssal, ready to explode into superheated flame.

    She can probably deal with that. The poisoned air and the... monster? In the city are more than he can take care of.

    But he's not the only one here. He doesn't /have/ to save the world alone.

    Hopefully.

    Right now, he focuses on sending a hail of hypersonic metal Bloody Revelation's way. Reasonably sure he has more ammo than she has essence. She'll use some clever trick to get out of it, to be sure... but making her expose another trick and keeping her on the defense is... progress!
Septette Arcubielle      The wall being breached comes before Septette has had a chance to correct her course- but she reacts with aplomb, landing for an instant on an ascending chunk of stone and leaping off of it to impact inside the city walls! The force of her landing still fractures and craters the cobblestone streets, but Whitewall has greater things to worry about right now. Perhaps a hundred feet away, she spies the silvery blob coursing through the streets.

     A trio of small, floating drones materializes around her- one red, one blue, one yellow, all simplistic and spherical. Then another trio. And another. A luminescent white bolt begins to gather in her hands as strange arcane sigils faintly glow in the air around each of the fist-sized bots, growing in intensity as the drones seem to multiply.

     Finally, she violently hurls the coruscating bolt of energy- at the nearest red drone. It materializes an elaborate hexagonal 'shield' in front of itself, turning the bolt blue and reflecting it back at a blue drone. Then the blue drone does the same, turning it yellow. And the yellow drone turns it red...

     In the span of a few seconds, the color-shifting beam of light seems to amplify and grow in speed with each reflection, tracing seemingly random coruscating patterns between points in the cloud of drones- carefully designed to keep it from overloading any one 'bot by striking it too often...

     Until finally, the bolt breaks apart and scatters on impact with one final reflector, each of its split beams pouring into a different drone. Simultaneously, the dozens of drones all fixate on the approximate center of Vodak's mass, each glowing so ominously as to appear on the brink of destruction. They hold their fire for only a split second.

     Septette holds out her arm, pointing one bladed finger at the silvery mass. Her core whines and sparks, its light flickering in time with her stuttered movements and guttering eyes as it struggles to scrape together enough arcane energy to fuel the amplified assault.

     "T-Target acquired," she enunciates solemnly, as if recalling some ancient litany. "Attack Casc-c-cade: Shoot."

     Every drone fires a carving, roiling beam of its appropriate element into Vodak's mass, dumping the vastly amplified arcane energy into the Hekatonkhire in the form of dozens of sweeping 'lasers'. First one drone overloads, then another, and another, as the magic pumped into them overloads the network in an exponential acceleration of failure until the sky is pockmarked with tiny explosions.

     But hopefully, by then, they've left their mark.
Devola and Popola Both Devola and Popola aren't quite sure what to make of what just happened. One moment, they were staring at a dot in the distance. The next, they're digging their hands into the surface of the wall just to avoid being blown right off, and then staring at a hole in the wall and another familiar-looking geyser spraying into the sky. There's a chill in the air around them despite how active everything is, and the twins just stare for several moments at what's going on in front of and around them.

P: "... They're not going to survive this."
D: "The other Elites might if they're lucky."
P: "But what about the rest of these people? They're..."
D: "... Plan B?"
P: "Plan B."
D: "... Fine. Just... Stay close, alright?"

    Instead of sticking to their posts, the androids grab a whole host of swords and spears before leaping right off the wall, but not to get inside. No, they're leaping out, and they're running after what had been a dot in the distance. Staying on the wall to drag injured out of the way would have been a fool's errand and probably reuslt in nobody getting saved at the end of the day, anyway.

    So they're just going to rush the Deathknight instead. The androids move swiftly, running and keeping themselves low to the ground while sword after sword after spear after spear trail behind them, floating along behind not unlike a weird sort of snake thing. It'll be a hell of a process just REACHING Bloody Revelations, though!
Miari With the wall just going DOWN like that... Miari's left stunned while Vodak rushes past, utterly speechless. She did not believe what just happened to be REMOTELY possible... and now Vodak is loose where Vodak should never, EVER be.

    "Unconquered Sun, Most High of the Celestial Incarnae, look now upon your Holy City, Ondar Shambal!" She pleads to the heavens in a sudden fit of frustration, arms upraised, delivering a message with sincerity she has almost never used for the dwellers of Heaven. Her voice echoes in an ancient dialect of Old Realm though. The formal language used by spirits and sorcerers. "Darkness floods the streets and devours the people its walls should protect! Will you abide it?"

    Without waiting for a response - for she knows one probably is not coming - she signals to her demons to follow... and breaks into a floating-RUSH for the hole after Vodak!

    "My demons, combat Vodak as you will. DO NOT harm Whitewall's people, not even if they attack you. Flee to me if you cannot manage!"

    The Blood Apes spill through the hole and charge after Vodak with a great roaring battlecry, flanked by Sesselja from above. The Sesselja have been armed though! Strange gadgets have been attached to their arms... that look kind of like guns?!

    In a matter of moments, blazing white pulses of pure Essence fire down on Vodak by the dozens!
Starbound Flotilla     Six shining lights split the clouds and slam into the streets of the city. The teledrop pods smash to smithereens, scattering heavy metal all over and their payloads emerge safely, and stand at full height.

    The STARBOUND FLOTILLA are here, in their STARSTRIDER rigs! These fifteen-foot-tall mecha-suits menace with powerful weapons and armor. Moonfin's swift melee-spec'd Starstrider is designed after the aesthetics of submarines, with a heavy glass-domed cockpit set against heavy befinned limbs, all pulsing with shining cyan energy, especially along the katana. Biteblade's construction is a mix of metal and densewood, heavy organic constructions mixed with scavenged machines. Its eyes and mouth glow bright green, the same green as its shining knife at its hip. Pavo's is made of huge gems and engraved temple-stone facades, it looks like a powerful mesoamerican warrior golem, with a pair of brilliantly shining yellow eyes, yellow wings, and even a brilliant yellow halo to match its ritual-looking cutlass. Albert has crafted a tremendous militarized walking tank, with thick limbs, treads at its feet, and large, fat arms that float at its side bearing five different artillery projectile weapons each, though it maintains a shiny white gleaming smooth aesthetic. George has an industrial mecha, looking far more like something designed to load huge and heavy cargo, with shining, crackling fists and drills, and a bright red HUD filling up the unsealed cockpit. Seft, the robotic Flotilla member, has created what looks very much like a fifteen-foot-tall knight, whose thick helm hides a bright blue glow below the faceplate, and under the surface of its sword and shield.

"Morphic liquid enemy."
"Advising. Swap to erchius elemental assault gear."
"Yeah yeah! Homogenous anatomy isss vulnerable for elemental sssometimes!"
"We must ensure that Whitewall does not get swept away in this tide."
"Yeah, locals come first. Try to feel out what kind of threat it's got."
"Aye. Flotilla! Sortie!"

    The Flotilla's ranks split and flank, engaging in sweeping hit-and-run, attempting to probe the creature with brutal incendiary and electrical blows from melee, as well as an assortment of blasts from Albert, their heavy ranged combatant. They're keeping some distance, greatly worried and clearly uncertain in their titanic new combat platforms, but filling it with as much experimental damage as they can manage, trying to prevent it from spreading too much for the Flotilla to manage, and thereby damaging the city. Is it proritizing the city, or something else...?
Tomoe Tomoe has a lot of faith in Gawain both in her interactions with him as a man and that of the legend behind him. He is one of the Knights of the Round Table. The horrible quick silver that's seeming to just come like an unstoppable tide. She knows she can't save everyone, she's just a mortal even if she's powerful. She's no god after all but she sees Vodak's arrival. She will damn well do what she can to hold it back. I's hungry for matter? My god what a conceptually terrifying weapon. It's not a poison gas, not a powerful blast, that incarcerate everything. It's like it's a living hungering thing that desires to /eat/ everyone here.

"ENGAGE FROM AFAR IF YOU CAN NOT AID IN KEEPIND PEOPLE AWAY FREOM IT!"

She will join the battle on the hellish thing. She chants in Norse, golden runes dance about her body as she hovers there for a moment it's a bit of a light show.

"LUMINOUS VOLLEY!"

Then comes a hails of bolts of light for Vodak. Like lasers seeking out a target they will attempt to impact over a wide portion of the thing's body, if you could call it that and Tomoe will moving in to get up close she can help better getting into its' face she has no choice but to fight it up close. It's her job to take it so others need not to do so She cries out as she knows she's about to charge into hell but there are others here the starbounders, Septette and likely others are fighting this thing.
Bloody Revelations     Arthur makes the ostensibly wise decision to go for the head right away. Staren reaches the same sensible assumption, in a vacuum of specialist knowledge, that would conclude that taking out the summoner right away would curtail the ghost-behemoth's rampage in an instant. It certainly seems as if Bloody Revelations has thought of the exact same thing, however.

    Immediately, she retrieves a fragment of etched bone from what might be called her occultist utility belt, and whips it into the ground. From where it lands, a triple-layered palisade of massive, ivory spears erupt from the earth, thirty meters to either side, dense as a forest. The giant stones of the siege engines and the penetrating missiles of Staren's Star Hawk crash head on, smashing into them like successive layers of brick wall. Rocks tumble to the ground beyond the last layer, not quite reaching their destination, and the superheated metal jets have about the same effect due to the air-gap design, but the breaches are easily enough for the archer to shoot through, and the Deathknight seems to have just enough time to unhook one of those ghastly crystals and shatter it in her palm, before a dozen arrows riddle her exposed skin, loudly thwacking into her flesh.

    Where her blood drips steadily to the ground, the drops sizzle and dissipate into ghostly serpents, spreading out in every direction and disappearing into thin air. Still, she remains on her feet. Enough such that when the coup de grace of holy light comes down on her, she retains the strength to flash that shadowy impression of a sword forth, and split the wave down the middle, scorching the outside of her arms, but only obliterating the ground behind and to either side of her. She slumps forward for a few, tense moments, and then leans backwards to look up at the wall. "Ahhh, little Arthur. And I thought we could be friends."

    What spell she had just used isn't obvious for a few more seconds. Not while the writhing ocean of Vodak's fluid, hateful corpus still churns its way through the breach in the infallible wards. When a significant chunk of his volume has passed it, numerous pseudopods erupt from his bulk and curl up over the walls, as if unlocking a door by reaching through the window. Forty men are snatched from their posts immediately, dragged screaming into the lake of quicksilver below and dissolving with howls of abruptly curtailed agony, flesh, bone, armour and all. Where they die, those same ghostly serpents rise from their briefly visible skeletons, and surge towards Bloody Revelations, slithering into her many wounds, which then begin to rapidly close one by one, expelling the arrows lodged in them with a round of clattering and last spurts of blood.

    Where people die, their life force instantly becomes hers, and with a city of 70,000 people, there is an ample supply of it. While Vodak's rampage escalates, and the death toll rises, her power only recovers faster and faster. She hadn't spent the last few days sitting idle. There is a dreadful kind of tactical acumen applied to this act of mass murder.
Bloody Revelations     Next, she unhooks a tiny vial of something the size of a pinky finger join, and breaks that as well, spilling green light through the cracks of her fingers. The air is rent with the tortured wail of ghosts; real ones, yanked straight out of the underworld and forcibly pulled through creation, dragged towards the Deathknight against their will, and in moments, rendered down to a vortex of liquid soulsteel that flows over her, seeping under her clothes and hardening into a second skin against hers. A second after, it bursts into lurid viridian-white flames, leaving her a beacon of ghastly firelight in the dark. That light only exists for a few instants, before she physically rips it away from herself, pulls it into her hand, and crushes it out of existence, instead surrounding her in a second layer of unnatural dark. There's no telling how she is using all of these spells back to back. Samea had needed incredible concentration and energy expenditure to use hers. This isn't normal. It's not supposed to work this way.

    It's quick enough that she gets to Devola and Popola first. Her right hand ignites as if her blood had become molten lava, concentrating from her wrist into the white heat of her fingertips. From there, a flurry of her own blades streak forth; daggers of hellish energy that burns like fire but leaves streaking trails like blood, screaming as they fly through the air and curving in on the pair of androids from multiple angles, converging in such a way as to skewer them through the joints of their arms, legs, shoulders and hips. "You again? You can stay out of this. Before you really piss me off." Her left hand then jerks up towards Staren, aiming blind. "And you. You already piss me off." Her fingers crackle with arcs of stark, black and white electricity, and then a peal of photo-negative lightning booms from her hand, ripping through the sky in an instant. Rather than actual electricity, it consumes what it touches as if thousands of years of entropy inflicted at a touch.

    Heedless to anything going outside the walls, the silver ocean of death sprawls in every direction inside, boiling through the streets and smashing in the windows and doors of every house, peering inside for their inhabitants. At the same time, its tendrils spread along the inside of the wall in a frenzy, smashing ballistae, snatching soldiers, hurling summoned beasts from the heights, and devouring everything from man to elemental, gorging itself on every life it can find. The stream of return fire, even from the remaining siege engines at the north and south that couldn't fit facing east, plunges into him from every direction, but it looks to have either little effect, or /no/ effect whatsoever. Even desperate hail Maries like entire bags of salt disappear into his depths, bottomless and rapacious. They aren't prepared for this. He'll murder every single one of them.
Bloody Revelations     At least, not unless the Elites can stop him. The Hekatonkhire has totally ignored the Multiversals, having all the time in the world to get to them, who aren't as immediately convenient as snacks. This changes very soon when strobing blasts of critical-intensity elemental energy stab into his corpus from dozens of places, eliciting screeches of flash-vapourized metal that sound too horribly human to be a coincidence. Tomoe's holy magic and the flying essence cannons riddle the space between the charred and blackened holes punched in his fluid mass, and the suddenly deployed Warstriders hack and blast off the pseudopods that extrude from his edges, where they dissolve into silvery powder as they hit the ground. Even those that sneak past them suddenly become the subject of wrathful and frenzied grappling from Blood Apes, looking to strangle and disintegrate them at the same time. Their attacks hurt him. That's good. From above, though, the sheer /amount/ of him is daunting.

    It gets worse, then, when the big acidic slime ceases to be that simple. From the glistening lake, figures emerge ten at a time, clawing their way out of the silver ooze and pushing themselves off the ground. Scores of Whitewall's own defenders surround Vodak, armed with all their original enchantments, and straight away, Septette, Tomoe, the Flotilla, and even the Demons, are now the subject of the same arrows, bolts, and elemental blasts of water, wind and fire, as screens of shields and spears form up on the ground to protect the Hekatonkhire.
Bloody Revelations     Meanwhile, up atop the Temple-Manse, all but prostrating himself at the front gates, Gawain can hear everything. Even if he turns his back to behold only the scripture, the incredible chaos of pitched battle and constant chorus of terrified death screams carries to him crystal clear. The clouds above have turned as red as the blood he can smell on the wind as a sickening reek of iron. Yet, still, the doors do not yield. The scripture builds with light again, much brighter than the last time; eye-searing.

    But then, the light just holds, and slowly, /begrudgingly/ even, it concentrates into the seam of the doors, splits from top to bottom, and the gates part to allow him into a hall of sunlit marble and gleaming golden pillars. He can feel the wave of raw magical power wash over him.
Gawain All that violence, all those screams, the smell of blood, the /touch/ of bloody wind, it all hits Gawain's senses. But he doesn't turn away. He has a mission here. Everything will be alright. He has hope that everything will be alright. As the knight stares at the scripture, he shuts his eyes, briefly as the light builds. And he waits.

And then, the gates creak open. With an opening of his eyes, Gawain smiles and looks up to the scripture. "Thank you." He steps into the temple, and immediately feels the energy tingle against him, seep into his pores and rejuvenate him. He's rapidly reaching peak. But he doesn't want to stop at peak. He needs more. He needs all of it. Everyone out there is dying and fighting to buy time and stop this monster. He's not going to put this effort to waste on just topping off.

Sir Gawain begins attempting to channel as much of the mana as he can into himself, absorb as much as possible even once it's starting to reach 'what he needs to use Excalibur Galatine'. Even once it starts reaching dangerous levels. It's like watching someone trying to eat a whole all-you-can-eat buffet as fast as they can, and his muscles begin to strain and his nose begins to bleed from how much magic he's taking on. The Knight could die from this, if he's not careful, but he has hope. And as he has hope, he utters a single sentence into the radio. "I believe in you, guys."
Young Arthur "Stand back, take your distance from this monster." Arthur commands, his words themselves aiding people to do so, should they choose to follow the boy who speaks with apparent confidence and authority, still clad in the light of his sword. "Archers, engineers, keep harassing your target as long as you steer cleer."

And then he proceeds to do what he tells others not to, he rushes towards the Hekatonkheires, "In the name of the Almighty, I, Arthur Pendragon, command you to die!" His sword almost seems to shine brighter when he invokes the divine, and the sacred light washes forward as the young king gets into melee, courageously seeking to draw as much of its attention as he can, while the holy sword is swung, its blessed light forced into a potent strike.
Staren     She recharges from deaths now? They'll need to obliterate her in one shot, somehow. Maybe, with enough missiles...

    And then she covers herself with some kind of mystic armor. No way can he get through all that!

    Also, entropy bolts. The Star Hawk gets zapped. Parts of it appear dulled, some internal parts break.

    But this is a machine made to fight the supernatural. With materials engineered to withstand forces thought impossible centuries before. And beyond that, it was redesigned and reconstructed by by a self-improving AI at the peak of of its power, just before going rampant. In short: a single spell won't destroy it so easily.

    But Staren can't do anything to her, in turn. He waits for Miari's signal, or at least a clear visual indicator that one of the defenses is down. Ready to launch missiles in a high arc, over the pillars, to drop down on her from above. If the regeneration goes down, armor-piercing HEAT missiles. If the soul armor goes down, or both seem to be down, more plasma missiles in an attempt to incinerate her. "You always pissed me off, too."
Devola and Popola As the androids surge forward, they keep their eyes trained on Bloody Revelations while glancing at all the unnatural power son display around them. Ghosts? Spirits? Stuff going into and coming out of her? Just what the hell did they get themselves into?!

They'll find out sooner rather than later. With the Deathknight meeting them head on, the Androids remain relatively close to each other despite splitting up at the incoming attack. The lash of flaming blood blades or whatever they are have the pair darting about rapidly to try and avoid letting those things touch them. The keyword is try, though, since even with as fast as they are, they're not quite capable of avoiding everything. The blades bite into synthetic flesh and robotic joints, drawing cries of pain from both Devola and Popola as sparks and spurts of oil stain the earth beneath them.

The attack doesn't stop their advance, though, painful as it is. They swerve harder to make themselves more difficult targets for the Deathknight, and their swords raise into the air above them as if poised to slash down at Bloody Revelations once they're in range. When those warnings to get away come, through, though, the twins act in sync with each other and start flinging spears at the Deathknight. The first two just go flying like... Well, thrown spears, but the third and fourth are followed by the androids dash in to try and ram the weapons right into her!
Miari Seeing the Starbound Flotilla down below fills Miari with a bit of hope. Yes, from below. For she rises atop swirling winds to high above the city and out of Vodak's reach. Still, from so high up she can see everything happening. The girl's heart is in turmoil. The Unconquered Sun, did he answer?

    Chunks of her bitterness and frustration at the gods have fallen away from this, replaced with hints of hope.

    Which leaves, still, a burning fury at Bloody Revelations, visible as a dark blot on the land far below.

    That woman. That woman at the center of all this senseless chaos and death. So many pointless deaths. The physician in her cannot look upon it and keep her senses. All turns red. And then green.

    "      " A name that should not be spoken anymore is whispered, and the fury of that name mixes with Miari's rage into a flame from her lips that curls out into her cupped hands. She closes those hands almost in prayer around the wisp of flame, deep in focus...

    A new source of light wars with the gloomy necromantic war. Oppressive and nauseating emerald light beats down upon the northern lands, emanating from Miari - or is it emanating from that THING she's cultivating between her palms? For a tiny orb churns with the purest light of ligier there, swirling with ever-greater intensity and slowly growing. Ambient Essence is drawn inwards and consigned to Ligier's blaze in a rapidly-contracting accretion disk.

    "Allow me to demonstrate TRUE destruction, you insufferable nihilist!" Miari declares, her voice booming loud and clear across the whole battlefield.

    As if it were a palpable substance, ALL the green light nigh-instantly condenses down into the shining singularity which she suddenly hurls like a baseball at the battlefield far below.

    It travels like a meteor... and strikes just in front of Revelations' barriers.

    All at once, the ground shakes and a terrible, mad green light bursts outwards. The demonic light erupts into a heaven-shattering pillar that pierces the rusty clouds... and this pillar quickly expands in all directions, tearing up enormous mounds of soil and melting the bedrock beneath.

    And it just keeps spreading, kicking up a nasty wind that everyone around can almost SWEAR carries the laughter of something most Unpleasant. Something quite pleased at seeing its power turned on Bloody Revelations... or perhaps Creation itself.

    The pillar of all-consuming emerald flames won't stop expanding for a good fifteen seconds or so... and when it finally does? Miari's still afloat in the skies, though now the winds surrounding her are a bloody crimson, and she's surrounded by the same nauseating green light in enormous abundance, a corona around a core of white-green. At this distance it may be impossible to see, but a burning third eye shines on her forehead...

    What is quite easy to see though, is the massive oily-black salamander curled around a smooth crystal orb that has bared its fangs and reared its head back in triumph in approval of Miari's actions. Her anima banner.

    That is very not Solar, indeed.
Starbound Flotilla     Seft and Moonfin take defensive positions. Her shield expands a broad field, preventing small projectiles from leaking through, while Moonfin begins a truly impressive display of slicing the heavier attacks right out of the air. That doesn't mean it all goes well though. George is the weakest among the Flotilla, and that extends here. His mecha is knocked far to the backlines amid attempts to punch through Vodak's body with heavy elemental strikes.

"Fuck! It's got buddies now! Sixty percent integrity!"
"George!"
"Panicked. I'll help!"
"Back, old friend! Set up the generators for Seft!"
"Starbound Six is joker for engagement. Mud elemental twelve, break six, go go! Starbound Five, covering, close on hostiles. Starbound Four, go cherubs one. Hostiles captured, fox four."
"Aye! I'll smite them!"
"Floran goesss close!"

    Young Arthur and Septette will only have to worry about one Starbound Flotilla member near them, and they're far from too uncoordinated to slip around their melee. "Shiny king friend! Floran isss assssign on melee help! Will cover, call if need!" Biteblade attempts to smash through the screen of shields and spears, painfully impaling their offhand on the weapons but hopefully making an opening. In fact, if the boy king is especially inclined, he may find that Biteblade's mecha offers a few moments of easy collaboration, offering to allow Arthur to clamber onto it when things get to thick, to throw Arthur when he might benefit from a little extra distance, or to do other things that one can only do with a big mecha friend. Biteblade's machine is agile, but not too damaged, only damaged by the fire especially.

    Albert finds a place atop one of the structures nearby, and lets his machine be battered, dented, and smashed by incoming fire that the Flotilla defenders can't intercept, as he sets up a TEN-GUN MURDER FESTIVAL, plunging round after round into the sea of silver and the soldiers therein.

    This is all a little less relevant than Pavo's approach though. "VOOOOODAAAAAK." She calls out of her mecha, rising up. Unlike the others, she has actually sustained relatively little damage. "A presence in two realms, welcome in neither. A creature beyond death that plays at life." Her machine's halo disperses, only to wrap around her machine's wrist. It's some form of directed energy weapon, emitted by those massive gems! "Sate your hunger in another city or face the wrath of divinity! I will have no prayers unanswered! I will have no promises made to me unfulfilled! I will TAKE WHAT A GOD IS OWED!" Her newfound nihilistic megalomania gives her a terrifying edge to her voice as her energy weapon begins pouring a sustained beam into the crowds and the mercurial mass, while she dodges return fire.

    George, meanwhile, runs off. "Fucking hell, these crazy assholes." He mutters to himself, as he starts trying to run to various sites near Vodak, and deploy heavy pillars of dense technology into the streets, setting them up in a broad half-circle, with the open side facing the manse. "I really fuckin' hope Albert and Seft knew what they were doing with these goddamn things..."
Septette Arcubielle      Strength flows back into Septette's limbs and core as invisible tendrils of magic sever from the exploding drones, returning the energy invested in them. Her eyes flicker back on, her movements become fluid and sure, and her voice returns to its quondam steady warmth. "Stand back," she orders with absolute confidence in her voice, waving any remaining Whitewall soldiers away from the beast before approaching herself.

     For one last moment, the little android looks almost human, serenely approaching the line of silver soldiers with no weapon to hand and a simple shawl for armor. Then, as if between frames of a video, a wickedly curved tan blade lashes out from her arm and skewers one of the warriors neatly, leading into another sweeping strike at their formation, and another, and another.

     This is a machine built not for single combat, but to butcher armies- and the one concern that might hold her back, for the lives of her opponents, is utterly void here. Her lightning-quick dance of blades chews through foes while surrounding her in a near-impenetrable veil of steel that seems to flicker into place whenever needed, turning aside spells and blades alike! But one vulnerability does reveal itself a moment later...

     The drones begin to swarm overhead again, materializing as if from nowhere and ricocheting another projectile in preparation for a second reflector cascade strike. As Septette fuels their second strike, her movements stutter and slow again, and even her near-impenetrable armor loses a bit of its durability. She compensates admirably for the power drain, batting aside blades and clearing a swathe of open space around herself before each stutter, but they may still be able to catch her off-guard!

     Finally, that solemn litany comes again: "At-t-tack Cascade: Shoot." Instead of targeting the Hekatonkhire itself, these beams sweep closer to the ground, tearing through the silver army at waist height before turning their remaining energy on the silvery beast! And as soon as those drones are spent and the strength returns to her form, another trio of drones warp in- a steady, relentless attack rotation that shows no signs of slowing.
Tomoe Here comes the undead and there's no real way stopping them the horror just gets worse. Tomoe knows how much she's in over her head even as he allies keep fighitng Blood Revelations and herminions of various sorts. She has to wonder about what she's done here.

Tomoe now getting closer makes ready with her sword it burngs with a inate holy property and she's hoping somehow this actually translates into this world's magic that it will work and to her suprise it seems to do so. She keeps at it and now will make use of her blade as whe attacks the thing praying that Gawain is able to do something.

"COME ON YOU WANT SOME OF THIS I DARE YOU FREAK COME GET ME!"

She taunts the unleahsed horror but it isn't the best ... idea...
Bloody Revelations     The power of the manse embraces Gawain the moment he steps through the door, wrapping around him like a cloak of the midsummer's day, soft, gentle, warm and bright. Light from no discernible source gleams from every surface, leaving him almost lost in an impossibly grand orrery of marble and gold and orichalcum and diamond, priceless beyond anything seen in Creation ever since. He can feel the holy power radiating from the stones like heat. He can hear whispered echoes of the prayers said at the laying of every brick in his ears. If he closes his eyes, fleeting snatches of ancient worship and holy mass race unexpectedly through his thoughts. Still, as the power of the Sun itself channels into him, slowly becoming a twister of shining white light that rushes through his veins, even as it becomes painful and fiery hot, the voice that speaks directly into his mind is female; kind and gentle.

    "Just this once, young one. Righteous Guide would have been proud."

    Outside, the death toll rises. The statistics skyrocket higher and higher, breaking the hundreds and into the thousands; only kept from the tens of thousands by the Elites mad enough to fight the ancient ghost-behemoth on the front lines. The river of liquid metal breaches Uptown and sluices into the edges of the middle district, where the militia now struggles to evacuate as many citizens as possible to the westernmost part of the city. They can only be so successful. For every nine tendrils an Elite cuts down or blows to pieces, one claims a score of fleeing men, women and children, madly sprawling in every direction to devour every human life it can, regardless of the cost to itself.

    Despite its terrifying hunger, and seemingly limitless stamina, however, Vodak is a beast of a narrow nature. Vodka is what it is, and cannot be anything else. It is hate, and it is hunger, and it is violence and malevolence and revenge, but it is not clever, patient, or prepared. Vodak's master may have prepared every possible countermeasure from her seemingly endless arsenal of black magic, but the Hekatonkhire simply Consumes. It has no intelligent defense from the holy blade of Caliburn, and this time the arc of divine light cuts straight and true, scything through the beast's gargantuan corpus in appropriate imitation of the biblical parting of the Red Sea, leaving quivering walls of silver gel-flesh smoking to either side.

    The abomination, despite its lack of discernible anatomy, can be understood to turn on Arthur in that moment, focusing the lion's share of its alien, amorphic attention on his presence. Straight into his head, right through his skull, he hears the rising and falling chorus of a million clashing and discordant voices, of every possible combination of age and gender and language. Instinctively, he knows they are the voices of everyone Vodak has consumed; stolen and made his.

    "YoU WiLl NoT Do ThAt AgAiN WrIgGlInG MoRtAl WoRm"

    . . . they say, all at once horrifying and entrancing. A part of Vodak erupts from himself, and lunges at Arthur like a titanic snake, to drag him into its depths.
Bloody Revelations     Simply due to the nature of the being, it's difficult to truly tell who it's watching, what it's paying attention to, where it's going, or what its target is. It might just be anything and everything. Vodak doesn't move with the strange but ultimately purposeful direction of an ooze or amoeba. He spreads like a natural disaster; a dam breaking at the border of an ocean of spectral death, all but capable of flooding the inside walls by himself. The Hekatonkhire simply attempts to surround Tomoe from every side, recoiling from her blade, only to crash down on her from behind, moving as a fluid circle. It barely seems to notice the containment pillars, splashing up against them, only to continue flowing along as a river would, unconcerned by their presence. Ranks of copied soldiers disintegrate under the withering stream of fire Pavo pours into them, in the persona of an angry deity. Were it anyone else, the fact that they scream the exact same way the real men had when they died not long ago might put them off. Someone else.

    Where Biteblade crashes through, and Albert trades ten shots for every one, the simulacra simply can't hold up. Perfect replicas, they are only as tough as the original, and rapidly erupt into silver chemical dust where they are smashed and scythed down. Replacements crawl endlessly from its quivering banks, crawling to shore like grotesque things born straight out of an unholy womb and right into battle, for no reason other to take the place of the fellow meat shields and die seconds later. The endlessly regenerating line holds through sheer dint of numbers, but only temporarily. Septette reaches the fray on foot, and barrels into the ranks as a living tornado of artifact blades and burning elemental fury to make the great Terrestrial houses jealous, murdering scores of the things so quickly that she can practically jog through them. The Hekatonkhire doesn't seem to have anything stronger to use against her. The last few she runs into simply explode into blasts of quicksilver gore, splattering her with their substance after realizing it's more likely to hit her than an actual attack.

    The Deathknight, its master, only has to hold outside while her servant does all the work of massacring former-Ondar Shambal for her. Blazing with flickering shadows and green flame of an entirely different hue than the alien sunfire Miari gathers, surrounded by coiling ghosts, she takes Devola and Popola head on, lunging forward at breakneck speed straight into the two androids, and straight at the breach in the wall beyond. The first spear that comes at her, she waves around. The second, she ducks under. The third she bats out of the way with her soulsteel-clad hand. The fourth she stops with her similarly protected forearm. It's when the two androids leap into melee range to double up on those last two, and put all their strength and momentum into them, that the points palpably punch through the layer of magical metal, and sink into flesh beneath. Hissing in pain and irritation, the Deathknight lashes out with a near-simultaneous knee and elbow strike, to the solar plexus and jugular respectively, perhaps unaware that the two androids lack those things, but with enough inhuman force to cause damage anyways. Of greater concern, the ghastly fire seems to /stick/ to them, leaving blazing green stains on any impact points that continue to consume metal and plastic like supernatural napalm.
Bloody Revelations     She doesn't stick around long enough to brawl with the two support models. Bloody Revelations keeps advancing towards the city, steadily picking up speed on a straight course for the breached wall, clearly having some objective other than simply watching the carnage, and that's more worrying than the prospect of her staying to fight. It doesn't look like her protective spells are especially damaged, but her regeneration has slowed as Vodak has crashed into more and more solid resistance. Her heat signature couldn't possibly be missed on Staren's monitors, and so the missiles have no chance of failing a lock. The Deathknight barely spares them a glance; just enough attention to snap her wrist out to swat one away, only to pay for the lack of knowledge of scientific weapons. She hits the detonator cap, and the whole wave of missiles goes off, sending her briefly sprawling to the ground. Just long enough for Miari to finish her spell, and fire.

    Bloody Revelations is just getting to her feet, swiping away the smoke so she can see, with molten metal still dripping off her skin, when the glowing point of hyper-compressed Malfean rage zips straight into her and goes off like a nuclear bomb. The salt, the caltrops, the ballista bolts and flung stones, the burning tar and countless arrows; none of it survives. The catastrophic fireball turns it all to dust, and for a couple of hopeful moments, it looks like maybe it did the same to the Deathknight as well.

    Except with her Essence-attuned senses, Miari would notice something wrong just before the moment of impact. A gut-churning warp in the fabric of Creation's Essence matrix around her, like a bit of reality had been sucked in as well. As the fireball reaches its crescendo, the same Deathknight races ahead of its edge, emerging from the surface of the green sun as if she had somehow just barely outrun it, despite ostensibly being hit head on. It's unlike her layered black magic. She didn't make a show of whatever this is. It's much more like . . . whatever she did with that sword earlier.

    She accelerates past the Star Hawk, and then past the sorceress, leaving sizzling footprints of sickly white fire where she hits the ground again, stopping only long enough to flash another fistful of bloody Abyssal dagger-bolts and send them screaming towards Miari, and then firing a high velocity bullet of supernatural napalm all the way up at the Star Hawk. She doesn't stay to confirm the damage; both attacks should give them something to Deal With. What the hell does she want if not to wipe them out while they're split up?
Devola and Popola With so much... EVERYTHING flying around every which way around them from the Elites and the Deathknight, Devola and Popola are actually moderately surprised when their  considerably more mundane-ish charge actually seems to work against Bloody Revelations.  Before they can find enough time to actually tear the weapons out, though, they're already being met with knee and elbow, sending the two falling back with painful crashes out of the Deathknight's way.

P: "Gh..! D... Did she even feel that?"
D: "Y-yeah, she... She had to. Our weapons went right in there!"

Rubbing their respective wounds, Devola and Popola lurch back onto their feet and struggle to stay upright between the two of them even while supporting each other. They're losing oil and taking damage much faster than expected, and it's only getting worse as they notice the horrid green flames eating away at their wounds. It's taking all the effort they can muster just to try and keep THAT growing damage under control with their own healing abilities, never mind actually attempting to pursue the Deathknight.
Starbound Flotilla "Generators up!"
"Seft! We must make our way back!"
"Break six, Starbound Three! I need you operating!"

    Seft has to pull back and rush towards Gawain, and that means less backup for Biteblade, who will soon need to pull back as well. "Urgent. Sir Gawain! Ready your assault!" Her massive knight-bot kneels dramatically near the Manse, sword planted in the ground as if in prayer, and a tremendous halo of light forms over it... Directed by Pavo of all the people. "Disgusted. To think I must coordinate such works with you, Pavo." She mutters. "Informing. Stage one shielding initiate."

    George has just finished planting that last pillar. The heavy column unfolds right out of his hands, blossoming like a flower into a dramatic dish-like shape. The elaborate brasssy and shining white metals mix in its design. They crackle with electricty. "Come on, robo, you got this..."

    "Stage two shielding..." Seft says, nervously, operating the remote shielding console from her machine. The heavy dishes begin to project their field. "Stressed. Sir Gawain! Prepare your strike! We are out of time! Vodak is... Vodak is slaughtering everyone...!" Her voice sounds out with a soft, almost overwhelmed noise of anxiety. "Urgent. I need to bypass some of these safeties, we can't afford to lose more..." The field begins to assemble. Soft blue and white light whirls around in dramatic whoshes, trailing crackling lines of electrical light. "Desperate. Septette, please! We will need cover!" Indeed, with Seft indisposed and George out of the fight, the Starbound Flotilla are likely to take enough damage that they need to pull out from the Vodak engagement.

    A vivid series of bright blue circles begin to form. They look... They look suspiciously like spellcircles. Like magic. The lines traced around the border of the shielded area, though, aren't quite as elaborate and complex as the radial dial of concentric "spellcircles" forming a dramatic line between Gawain and Vodak, spinning rapidly.

    The first of six lock into place. "Desperate. It's almost ready..." The second. The third. "Almost..." The fourth, the fifth... Agonizing seconds for the final one... "Desperate. Sir Gawain! With all the strength you can spare! The people of Whitewall /need you/!" The final circle locks. The shield goes up, runes inscribed in that wide hemisphere of containment to ensure Vodak receives the full force of the sun, and nothing else need be touched by it. "FIRE!"
Gawain Gawain's eyes are shut after a moment, as he concentrates on the energy. The painful, the hot, the /powerful/ energy...and then he hears a voice. This is his one shot. They have given this to him - and he will have to thank someone known as the Righteous Guide, even if he doesn't know who that is. As the energy reaches his maximum he can tolerate, he steps back, and opens his eyes, speaking, strained. "Thank you. I will not let you down." With a swoop out of the Manse, Gawain leaps up the tower, landing at the very top of the minaret in a crouch. Holding Excalibur Galatine up, Gawain glances outwards, seeing the dead, the devoured, and the beast - Vodak, and the Enemy - Bloody Revelations. Taking a deep breath, Gawain looks outwards, and he speaks as loud as he can muster, his voice full of cheer and hope. To the mortals in the city, it is the voice of a Knight, and everything about it is that of a Knight.

"Hear me, Whitewall! Hear me, Vodak! Hear me, /Bloody Revelations/! I am Sir Gawain, Knight of the Sun! The generosity of your manse has granted me the power I need to strike this beast down...but I cannot thank it alone. Nor can I claim that this is my fight alone. No. No! I can only do this because of those with me. I can only have hope because I have others who put their hope in me. Septette. Pavo, George, Albert, Biteblade, Seft, Moonfin. Staren. Miari. Arthur. Devola and Popola. Tomoe. They have held out against this beast, against this swarm. They have held out against the evils that plague Whitewall, they have fought, and they are the only reason I am even standing here! They are why you will see the sun shine down and purge your town of taint!"

"Bloody Revelations! Your evil will not win here. Your genocide will not succeed. Your hatred will be squashed...by our HOPE! We are HEROES, and we will not allow you to succeed! And so, as the Knight of the Sun, with the blade given to me by the Lady of the Lake, with the power of the Manse I stand atop, I call forth..."

Gawain begins to swipe his blade in a circle around himself. Anyone with any sort of magical sense can feel it, and possibly even those without, due to how much power he's taken and is radiating - something big's about to happen.

"EXCALIBUR..."

"GALATINE!"
Gawain EXCALIBUR GALATINE ~ THE RESURRECTED SWORD OF VICTORY ~ OVERDRIVE

Underneath Gawain's feet, a giant circular rune in the pattern of the sun forms. It reaches out even from the roof and into the air, as with one fell swoop, Gawain throws Excalibur Galatine into the air. It spins for several seconds, before forming a miniature sun directly above the Manse. The sun shines brightly, light and heat coming forth directly above Whitewall in the center. As the blade falls, light trickles down with it, and Gawain catches it with both hands, holding it upright. The blade of the sword gives way - flaming light manifests instead, reaching all the way up to the sun above. The light reflects off Gawain's armor, dazzling upon it radiantly, and his eyes glimmer as he looks down at Vodak. "Creature of darkness! Perish where you stand!"

With a single wide sweep, the fire goes flying at a diagonal, into the barriers the Starbound Flotilla made. The fire is intense, and the heat can be felt by practically everyone so much as near the Manse towards Vodak. It burns against everything in its path - in this case, the barriers - and moves to hit center blast against Vodak. "EVERYONE! GIVE IT YOUR BEST SHOT! LET LOOSE EVERYTHING YOU HAVE! WE CANNOT ALLOW THEM TO TAKE ANOTHER LIFE!" The fire practically roars towards Vodak, as Gawain stares.

And Gawain smiles. Brightly. In the end, hope will win.
Staren     Miari brings down Total Annihilation! <"Wow, what was that!?"> But... they haven't won yet. Revelations is speeding past him. Staren tries to track her -- at least she shines like a beacon for sensors! His machine raises its shield to block, but gets some kind of weird metal-burning thing stuck on the shield instead. That's... not good, but he'll worry about it several seconds later, right now, they've got to stop her!

    The designs that would become the Star Hawk were passed to Staren's father long ago, in another world, as part of another adventure. The VF-1 Valkyrie was legendary for being able to fire so many missiles at those that threatened Earth. And the Star Hawk lives up to that legacy. The handheld launcher fires a dozen more micro- and minimissiles, all HEAT but for a lone remaining plasma warhead, and the tops of the back packs open, unleashing waves of larger missiles, the kind you need a vehicle to carry, ripple-firing a stream of another forty into the air.

    A collection of heavy ordnance hurtles over Revelations on pillars of fire, the might of technology dealing high-explosive death at 500 miles per hour.

    It doesn't even need to hit. It just needs to get close enough.

    The area surrounding Bloody Revelations is soon to stop resembling 'dirt' and 'air' so much as a high-energy physics experiment.

    The Star Hawk itself is transforming to something like a jet with arms and legs, chasing the Deathknight with speed to match its missiles. If she survives THAT he intends to rain hypersonic velocity metal death down on her from the sky!

    Sometime later, an expense report for 180,000 credits lands on a Concord accountant's desk.
Septette Arcubielle      Whether silver or red, there is blood in the water today. Septette's headlong butchering rush doesn't stop or slow until she reaches the edge of the mercury pool, dripping with the wretched simulacra's caustic blood- and then, distantly, she hears Seft's plea. For a brief, mad instant, she wants to stay; to press her advance and challenge the ocean of hatred itself to trial by her blades.

     For not the first, nor the thousandth time, she bites back her bloodlust with cold restraint and steps back from the edge.

     The cobblestones break and shatter under the impact of her leap as she springs into the air, hurtling towards Seft before the barriers come up in full. A magitech bot materializes under her feet, and she kicks off it as a stepping-stone; then another, and another, carrying her above the mercury-flooded streets. They cluster in the dozens, forming a temporary bridge in the sky. Then she leaps off, and fires one last incandescent bolt into the flock of drones.

     This time, something stranger happens. As the bolt ricochets, they pull together into a dense spherical swarm, with the ever-growing magical charge wildly bouncing around inside, far beyond the limit of what one drone alone could continue to reflect. She turns midair to stare at the massive charge with something resembling wistfulness. "Cascade Attack..."

     The words die in her throat as all of her nonessential arcane systems shut down for an instant, focusing the full might of her core on the attack. It erupts from the sphere as a single unfocused beam of elemental havoc, vaporizing the wall of drones in its path and cutting into Vodak to scour the very earth beneath in a withering display of unrefined magical fury.

     Septette strikes the ground heavily next to Seft like a limp marionette. Then her eyes switch back on, blazing with purple light, and she drags herself to her feet with evident effort. "... All-Out."
Miari Miari's left with mouth gape as she watches helplessly at the Abyssal escaping her absolute best efforts - if only by a hair's margin. Winded and a little dazed by the exertion - that drained her of nearly everything! - she cringes in the stretched instants of those daggers being flung her way.

    Yet her anima protectively draws inwards like a crystalline coccoon.

    She swings BOTH hands downward frantically, though this isn't necessary to focus her intent... which is far stronger than any gestures she could come up with.

    The daggers crash into what looks to be a barrier of lightning, stopped fast... but trying to cut through. "Khhhhhh---!" Miari's power wanes and surges, for it was already stoked to the limits and beyond with that spell.

    Finally, with the sound of shattering glass, her mystical barrier gives way... but with force. The daggers go soaring through where she had just been, missing by a hair's breadth. Because she briefly loses control of her flight and tumbles lopsidedly, uncontrollably...

    And crosses over an undamaged chunk of Whitewall's border. The skies crackle with golden lightning that probably swallows up her subsequent shriek, as Miari is violently hurled away from the airspace and tumbles yet some more through the air.

    With a final braking motion and clenching of fists though, she gathers the crimson winds once more to right herself... and hits maximum acceleration to swoop through Whitewall airspace and FAR OUTSIDE the arc of Excalibur Galatine.

    "That barrier is really something. HOW did Bloody Revelations crack it so easily?!"

    And then... Gawain re-emerges, and swings that holy blade. "Ghhhhu-!!" The blinding holy light's enough that MIari's forced to half-shield her eyes... and swoop to a halt overhead.

    She and her demons have already poured everything they have into Vodak and Bloody Revelations. How is she supposed to possibly contribute to THIS?!

    Wait, there is one thing...

    With a deep breath, Miari drops a hand into a pocket... and pulls forth a glowing string. String of woven Orichalcum filaments, tied up in an elaborate knot. A flick of her fingers looses the knot, and torrents of crimson energy surge from it through her arms. Yet more power coaelsces from the environment - what's left that Galatine didn't gobble up, that is - and with a final yell Miari channels the destructive energies outwards.

    A violent stream of crimson Essence, glowing like magma slices through the air. A sustained beam that she carves back and forth across Vodak. Vodak itself notwithstanding, the beam's passage leaves nothing but molten glass...

    "To the abyss with you! Now I -really- have nothing left!"
Tomoe Tomoe is trying to not think about what it's doing she knows she can't save everyone the thought of death for those from creation far worse. It's not just an end of life but depending on your point of view? It's a end of existing period your drive is wiped and use in a new person. There's nothing she can do about it right now as she's assailed from behind She's caught by it the horrible silver stuff is on her. She'll move to hack and slash at it to get it off but then an idea comes to her. An idea comes to her and she's got an idea, it's a very stupid idea. It however may put this horror in check or make an opening in the end? What does she matter with so many people on the line, right? What doe sit matter she starts to move to get what she can of the goop off but it's now time for a sword skill she thinks a holy one and she's going to aim herself to charge right into what passes for the largest mass of the thing as she can.

She imputs which one she's gong to do rapidly. She hears Gawains voice and she now knows what to do, her blade may be a replication but to say it lacks any power is a lie. With it now blazing with oly fire She calls out.

"GRAND CRUSADERS CROSS!"

She then goes off a fury of Holy strikes, she apirly move like a living blending doign the sorts of sword play one might expect from an Dawn Cast sh does not stop.

"I HAVE HAD IT THINGS LIKE YOU HAVE NO PLACE IN THIS WORLD OR ANY OTHER BE GONe TO THE HELL THAT SPAWNED YOU."

She's not alone even as she makes her attacks, no there's Maiari the starbounder nd she has to give Pavo some credit she is not bailing on cleaning up this. Sure there's money, she could have taken the pay from eariler and run.

Miari's out there somewhere. Sepettet is proving to be more bold than even Tomoe is if she were to think about it, and missiles? That's got to be Staren all right...
Bloody Revelations     When Gawain has drunk well and deep of the Temple-Manse of Ondar Shambal, priceless labour of love and dedication to the Unconquered Sun himself, so far of its power that his blood boils and his nerves scream with the raw, fiery life of Creation, only waiting for release, he feels the other presence recede from his mind, and the voice with it. The illusions of whispered prayers and the non-memories of services past go with them, leaving the chamber quiet and still. Whoever it was that spoke for it, the Manse has given him all it can produce for now. From his perch, he can see the street lights flicker and fizzle out, along with much of everything else. That's how much it had entrusted him with.

    As the number of shields increases, Vodak's mercurial rage and aimless, hungry slaughter begins to churn and froth as a tide pool, moving too many directions at once and recoiling from too many surfaces, such that conductive ripples of glistening grey light tremble across his surface tension. The Hekatonkhire's movements grow erratic. Confused. Enraged. The psychic voices rise into a swelling crescendo of hissing, babbling, murmuring and screaming fury, becoming a litany of jumbled curses impossible to understand by any means. Streaming forward towards the Manse --the only direction left to him-- Vodak accelerates into a torrential river of quicksilver death, channeling itself down the single, widest main street, receding from every other building to streamline himself and pick up speed; straight towards the loathsome glow of Solar Essence it can smell. The power that suffuses Gawain's every cell has whipped it into a berserk fury, and it gives up all other targets to barrel down on him alone.

    The fight, and the chase, outside the walls, swiftly moves within it. The Deathknight isn't stopping. Isn't slowing. Isn't flinching. After being banged up by that last salvo, she won't lose time to being nailed by an even larger one. One leap through the carved breach in the holy walls, and six night-black wings unfurl with the cold glittering of alien stars, massively increasing her speed, and sharply gaining altitude. The first several missiles then strike the broken section of wall, and the next few swerve just under her and impact the ground. Many more doggedly pursue, their tone effectively perfect, and so she weaves, rolls, and dives at breakneck speed, dashing as many as she can on the empty buildings all around. Where the most agile among them reach out to kiss her heels, the Abyssal dives straight into the side of a cathedral tower, and then flickers into nothingness, briefly becoming little more than a phantasmal suggestion, and leaving the missiles to blow the structure behind her clean off, screening her in smoke. Staren gets /no/ return fire from her at all, so entirely focused is the Deathknight on staying ahead of him.

    The writhing tide of necrotic Essence encroaches upon the foot of the Temple-Manse. The buildings that slowly rise up to it are awash in deathly quicksilver, burning away in both Creation and the Underworld. Tendrils rise from the thrashing sea of incensed screams, up to snatch and squeeze the life out of Gawain, but are thwarted mere feet from the Knight of the Round Table as Tomoe charges heedlessly into the fray as a swirling maelstrom of cutting arcs of light, and then it recoils completely as Septette's sacrificial blast saturates the collected grasping mass with an overload of elemental energy that causes the Hekantonkhire to /splash/, falling back on itself and losing all cohesion for several moments; just long enough for the Celestial death ray to sear through the colossal well of pooled corpus and cause it to shrink back on itself in rage and pain. Even with all of that, the thing is tireless. Endless. Immeasurable, even.
Bloody Revelations     It's also not fast enough.

    The very thing that the ancient scourge of Gethamane hates most, with every fibre of its immortal being, comes down on it as if the Unconquered Sun himself had sent his wrath. The full might of Excalibur Galatine, charged beyond its limits, blessed by the highest temple of the Solar people and having given up all its power in recognition of a worth hero, blasts the lurking horror from the depths of the earth head on, and like the first rays of dawn erasing the shadows, it utterly obliterates it.

    Vodak's death scream is loud and horrid enough to pierce the minds of anyone for miles, for it is the screams of the millions of souls it has consumed as well, trapped in eternal agony within its corpus, burning away along with it. Its flesh, its spirit, and its very being, burn away into utter nothingness, cleansed completely by the fury of the Sun's chosen champion and blown away in torrents of wrathful fire until not even a stain remains to mar Creation's surface.

    ...

    In the aftermath, the once beautiful Whitewall is a mess. Roughly a third of the city has been badly damaged by the Hekatonkhire's passing, and a portion of that was destroyed in the collateral of stopping it. Thousands have lost their lives, and the sacred strength of the impervious wall that has kept its people save has cracked open. Yet, this is a small cost. Tens of thousands escaped with their lives, and those people can always rebuild some wrecked houses and scoured streets. The all-important Temple still stands. The gods have directly answered the call of the people of Whitewall's plight, and even the wall can be repaired and re-sanctified anew. Perhaps all of it can be restored, as repayment to the ghost of the Solars past that had shown them such compassion at their direst moment. One of the most horrific abominations of the First Age has been destroyed, and the countless souls it has devoured and tortured for millennia have gone free with it. Despite the sober atmosphere, iron clouds, and distantly burning fires, there is reason to celebrate, once people have the strength to do so.
Bloody Revelations     *CRACK*

    In the leaden silence, the simple sound carries across the whole city. The dreadful sound of splintering stone; so mundane, and yet, impossible to ignore. The sound originates from inside the manse. From beyond its opened doors, and within its vaulted halls of orichalcum and adamant, temporarily exhausted of their light and fire. Standing inside, is Bloody Revelations, at the finish line, with a spike of burning obsidian in her hand, six inches deep into the geomantic center of the floor. Panting, sweating, exhausted, and with the flaming soulsteel flaking away from her skin, the Deathknight takes a good long moment to rise to her feet, push her hair back, and then let slip a wrenching, heartfelt fit of mad, giggling laughter, bouncing back upon itself ad-infinitum from the cold, golden walls.

    "Ahahahaha~! AhahaHAAA~! I did it! /I/ did it! It's mine now! The last piece of Ondar-Shambal! That which even the Shogunate feared to touch! It's /dead/! You hear me? You hear me /Sol Invictus/!?! The greatest thing your beloved children ever dedicated to you is /mine/! I /win/! Do you GODS DAMNED HEAR ME?!?!" Bloody Revelations screams at the top of her longs, crying out to the sun setting in the far distance, over the mountains. "If you care /at all/ about this /abortion/ of a world you call your gift to mankind, then strike me down now! Strike me down if you dare! Show everyone exactly how the almighty Un~con~quered~Sun smites those who do evil! Go on! Show everyone that good exists! That justice is real! Let them all know that a loving god watches over them, and that /anything/ truly stands between them and Oblivion! Show mankind that you give one single solitary /shit/ about what happens to them! You useless lying bastard! I'll erase every lie you ever told from the face of the filthy hell people call Creation!"

    Nothing answers her but her own, trembling echo. Hearing it die out only causes her to lapse into a fresh fit of giggling, clasping her arms around herself ecstatically. "Did you see, my love? Did you see me? You can tell, can't you? I'm different. I'm better than all the others. Who else would dare? Who else can claim to have challenged Ondar-Shambal and won? Who else would break such an insult to your ignoble death? I did it for you! I did it all for you~! And I'll do it again! I'll do it over and over and over until they all suffer as you do, and then finally we can be together!" This time, she's talking only to herself. To the voices that only she can hear.

    Behind her, the obsidian spike wedged into the grand flooring glows darkly, and the fire gutters out. Long, creeping shadows spread from it, gradually sprawling across the floor, up the pillars, and along the walls at a glacial rate, darkening and smothering the vulnerable and exhausted Manse. The spike itself crumbles to dust, leaving only the shadowy impressions of crawling vines to snake around the magnificant structure, dark and silent as the grave.
Alucard Tepes     Alucard has been out of the way of Gawain's blast, and of the others' attacks as well. There's been little he could do against this thing anyway -- his attacks are hardly 'holy', and this silvery beast would have quite literally eaten him if he'd gotten too close. He does no one any good if he's devoured.

    Thus he has been attempting to do what he could about evacuation of the people to safe areas, in case the worst happens. After all, it hardly seems like a smart thing to do, to just sit and wait as one's murderer approaches, hoping something will stop it in time before it gets to one.

    The great burst of light forces him to shield his eyes, yes, but he restrains a hiss. It doesn't matter how far away from that he is, it's just not far enough for his vampire blood. But once the light subsides, he looks to see the effect it's had. At least the silver beast has been dealt with, it seems. But there's a bigger problem.

    Alucard then turns his attention to getting people OUT of the city proper. There's no way anything living can stay in the city with that growing mass of darkness. Despite everything, the city is lost. He's hoping to save at least a few of the people inside it.
Staren     "GAAAAAAH!" Staren shouts in frustration as over four dozen missiles can't catch the target. The mech shakes its fists in frustration. At least thanks to how well they're tracking her, those that don't get her within the blast radius don't detonate. Not that hunks of metal hitting buildings at 500mph doesn't still cause some collateral damage...

    A psychic scream resonates in his mind. Like nails in a chalkboard, he tries to bear it. This is nothing. So many more have died... He can't let it get to him.

    Did they /win/? But wait, why wasn't Bloody Revelations running AWAY?

    That's why.

    Crack.

    Staren hits whatever passes for pavement outside the Manse, probably cracking it despite his knees taking some of the impact. He stands and approaches.

    "He doesn't need to. We don't need him. No gods, no masters: It is the duty of the righteous themselves to gather power and strike down evil. Good and justice exist in the minds and hands of mortals. You want someone to strike you down?"

    The first shot comes from an oversized revolver, engraved with a triple-M monogram. Not more powerful than his other weapons, but on the off-chance that symbolism and divine connection mean anything here, it's worth a shot, right?

    "We'll be happy to oblige."
%
Starbound Flotilla     Pavo's golem descends. It lands atop the manse. "MORTALS OF WHITEWALL." Her voice booms out. Her machine's wing spread wide, and the halo expands into multiple concentric layers. Her machine's arms cross dramatically. "THE UNCONQUERED SUN HAS LONG ABANDONED YOU. BUT THE STARBOUND HAVE NOT." She points dramatically down to Bloody Revelations. "You have proven the worthlessness of the Unconquered Sun. The hollowness of his power. But I have proven the worth and the substance of mine. And if the Unconquered Sun will not act, then I will. I am as much a god as he is. To empower grand works. To slay great foes. To create, destroy, bless, and curse. There is not and never was ANYTHING special about the Unconquered Sun besides his SILENCE."

    "And when your god does not answer your prayers you FIND A NEW GOD. If for even a moment you feel fear that your city will fall with the absence of this manse, then know that I will offer everything he could. Safety. Security. Prosperity. At a price with a far, far clearer VOICE, in absence of all the politics of your world, the fear of Anathema, or the dread of the fey and the ghosts. RETURN TO YOUR HOMES. REUNITE WITH YOUR LOVED ONES. REBUILD YOUR LIVES. And in the coming days, find our works revuilding ALL ELSE!"
Tomoe Tomoe job is to tank, if she were thinking much but she's more focus on tanking those thing as best she can and doing as much damage as she can to it. Then comes the power of the sun. It seems a local deity was /listening/ this day and the thing is taking the full on divine? Solar? Whatever it is it's a heck of an death ray and it's just not enough or is it? She keeps fighting though hacking clashing and otherwise attacking and then it seems it's no longer needed she sees the beam has just kept going and there goes the Vodak.

She only watches as it goes up, she looks up as it just fades away, there is reason to celebrate, later. She knows she has more work to do, people to help then comes something else.

She's worn she's tired and then she hears the cackling of Bloody Revelation this world is truly forsaken.

She will keep going but they have much to do, so much to do. It never ends in creation and she's so tired.