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| Owner | Pose |
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| Seifer Almasy | This is the Ending. Everyone knows the Ending. It's so old that it's a cliche. It's the final boss, the big alien god in a technicolor dreamscape at the bottom of a ruin. The music of the ending is a sweeping musical affair, the best the chiptune can offer, the most power they can squeeze to make the boss as ominous as possible. It's the twitching eyes that don't quite fit, lovingly-rendered and now brought to horrible life. It's wiggling tentacles, lovingly-animated and now brought into horrible divine biology. It's a roiling background of pure chaos beneath the crumbling ruins of another world. This is the Ending. Everyone knows the Ending. It's so old that it's a cliche. It's ending with a bang and a fight that makes you earn your happy cutscene afterwards. But there is no happy cutscene afterwards, is there? After fighting this - this many-eyed nightmare, this Yellow Emperor, this Discordia, there's no happy cutscene, is there? There's saving the world - but in what sense? In what fashion will it be saved? What does salvation look like when the game is no longer being played? What does The End look like when you're not the players, and you're not the game, and the world must go on but it can't keep going on? This is not a place where humans should be. This no longer feels like it is obeying the rules of the game. This feels like it is standing before a dark and terrible god, a Thing Primordial excised from the world long ago. There are no numbers here. There is no blinking 1 and 0. There is a god, barely bound by rules, and nothing more. It is a mess. It is seven hands with eyes upon them moving in slow rotations. It is countless yellow wings that undulat like tentacles. It is a halo of power, nine points above it in space radiating light, clearly part of it but separate from the body. A halo of power roars around it, a physical light, a feeling of light, throbbing and hammering against the soul with overwhelming majesty. The music seizes control. The pulsing, low, rapid beat, layering bit on top of bit. The suggestion of voice in high 8-bit notes, haunting wailing and chanting. As the majestic thing rises it turns all of its countless eyes upon the group, all of its hands pointing at him at once. The targetting reticle confirms it. EVIL GOD DISCORDIA This is not a monster. This is not a game. This is a god, and it knows why you are here. And it will not give you what you want. What you want is to win. What it wants is to kill you. To scatter your ashes. To obliterate you from existence. This is the Ending. Nobody knows the Ending. It's a new thing to be born today. |
| Arianrhod | Arianrhod's head turns upwards as she takes in the sight of the Evil God Discordia. Her helmet hides the look on her face. One of concern. She's dabbled in the greater powers of her own world. Watched as those around her now have struggled to alter the reality of the one they stand in at this very moment. But now she stands before this god. Arianrhod chuckles. It's not an amused chuckle though. More one of surprise realization. She's scared. A feeling she hasn't felt in some time. A light glows at Arianrhod's side and with a flash, her ornate lance appears in her hand. Her hand tightens around the grip. She doesn't like feeling scared. Aware of the others around her, prepared to fight by her side as she does theirs, Arianrhod raises her lance to point towards Discordia and says, "Time to kill a god." Arianrhod begins to walk forward, moving towards Discordia. She's cautious though, not rushing in. Instead she tests the evil god's defenses, her lance glowing with light. She quickly swings it in an arc in front of her as she walks, the light jumping off the weapon in the form of a crescent that streaks towards Discordia. |
| Arcadia | The End. The Last Curtain. The Final Showdown. It was a little different being present in person to this sort of Endgame instead of reading it in the archives of times past and worlds losts. But Arcadia was here and going to make the most of it. She owes that much to Shyra after the healer literally saved her life before. A chance to save a world instead of just watching the end times is a bonus. What the Ending amounts, what comes after the Final Boss, doesn't really cross her mind. It's not important. Just that she's here where her friends and allies need her help in stopping History from repeating itself. Seems like 'Arcadion' rubbed off on her a little, even after she was reset to normal. Sure she's hovering off the ground like she usually does, but you can see it in the way she clenches her fists, the gleam in her eyes. There is still a bit of Brawler left in there. The sphinx looks up at the Entity in all its visceral glory and snorts. "Well it's a good thing Ugly isn't a Super Attack, or we'd already be dead," she snarks cattily, then her visor conjures into existance. "Let's do this!" There's a tangible tingle in the air around her as her magitek arsenal comes fully online. Arcane rings twirl around her arms as she holds them up towards Discordia, then concentrate into multiple glowing points that continue to spin even as they start rapid-firing beams of non-elemental energy. Essentially magic lasers. Arcadia is coming straight out with the danmaku, even if this is on the low end of the scale, intended more for fast and efficent firing than powerful output. There will be plenty of that to come down the line. |
| Mordred | It had been far too long since Mordred's last interfered in this world's affairs. Although some of the finer aspects of the world have been lost on the Servant, Discordia's presence and threat posed to the world's existence is straightforward enough even for her to understand. "This timing thing sounds like a pain in the ass, but... Fitting, I guess.." The former Evil Knight stand-in mutters as she shoulders her silver blade, her brief tenure not forgotten just yet. "What's the worst case scenario if we screw up the timing, thought? Another reset?" She chuckles darkly while that music starts to pick up with the chanting that feels just slightly out of place to her ear, sizing up the monster before the group. "Or is it just going to kill us? Because a fight to the death's just what I need right now!" There's a rather unsubtle aggression to Mordred's voice as she charges right for Evil God, blade skimming the ground briefly just before she zips forward with a sudden thrust and slash aimed to carve right through a mass of tentacles! |
| Shyra | The Ending has come. The Evil God Discordia is a familiar thing. Not something she would have wanted to remain familiar with, but in this case, there is no choice. She has done everything she can to buy time for people to prepare, to gather their strength, to plan their strategies. But now it is time for all of it to come to an End. Shyra stands with the others at the Central Shrine, opting for the familiar battle. She lacks the knowledge and resources needed to be useful against the Raksha, which is a threat that she cannot properly comprehend let alone counter. Instead, she has already layered all of her protective spells on her allies, each of them shining with magical barriers, physical and magical enhancments, the full power of a high level Holy Healer on display. She points with her staff at the Evil God, and calls out, Come on, everyone! Once we strike down the Evil God, this world will be safe again! We will see The End! The battle will be long and harsh, but it is one we can win! We can do this! And so it is that Shyra pulls together her power. Sizzling beams of light begin blasting from the tip of her staff, arcing out in a hail of minor strikes that add up to something greater. There's no way to know how much greater, however, for Discordia does not show its weakness. |
| Arthur Lowell | Arthur has mostly recovered. Extensive restoration of HP has him on his feet. But still, the young man has extensive wounds left behind. Gleaming, shining gashes let out soft white smoke from his body, leaving him cloaked in an aura of starstuff. "We can't win this. There isn't enough time." His shaking voice struggles through his throat. "Ayudha Raksha is going to get here. It's going to kill me. Kill Discordia. It's going to wreck this timeline. Null and void." A full-body shiver shakes him and his heavy breathing breaks briefly. "Don't have any choice. No choice. Have to." He's on his feet. His radio pipes up. JUDE: I just...I wanted to say thank you. JUDE: ...I don't know that it's confidence. I've just...been thinking a lot about faith. JUDE: Right now, the only thing I can have faith in is you. PB: ...What do you have faith in us to do, Jude? JUDE: Good question. I have faith you'll end the world successfully, I guess. JUDE: That's the only choice, isn't it? Look at what Ayudha Raksha is doing... They converse. Arthur's shaking. He can't deal with this. He has no choice but to deal with this. Struggling to focus, he clenches his broom, surges his Aspect, and, with shaking arms and unsteady feet, moves to engage... A vast array of starlight blasts, mixed with multiple heavy rocket-powered swipes from his battle broom, and lots of pained, near-panicked battle-screaming. Without hesitation, he amps up to a dangerous ASPECT OUTPUT LEVEL early and dives in as hard as he can muster in his fearful, pained state. ------------------------------------------------- | | | ACTIVE | DANGER | CRITICAL | | ---------- | ------------ | ------------------- | | | | | | ********** | ************ | | | | | | ------------------------------------------------- -------------------------- -------------------------- | | | | | BLENDER MODES | | THRUSTER MODES | | | | | | [ ] STIR | | [ ] DASH | | [ ] CHOP | | [ ] CRUISE | | [ ] MIX | | [ ] CHARGE | | [ ] PUREE | | [ ] SPRINT | | [ ] LIQUIFY | | [ ] ESCAPE VELOCITY | | [ ] CRUSH ICE | | [X] UNSTOPPABLE FORCE | | [ ] CRUSH BONES | | [ ] PLAID | | [X] RIP/TEAR | | [ ] UP A GODDAMN NOTCH | | [ ] ATOMIC DISASSEMBLY | | [ ] LET'S DO THIS SHIT | | [ ] ANNIHILATION | -------------------------- | [ ] LET'S END THIS SHIT | -------------------------- |
| Pazkar | He's here. After having not stood with them before, the Gearknight in golden armor is here. He does not speak to the group as he approaches. Is he ignoring them? No. He's back in an old situation. You don't speak in a situation like this. The end of the world You just prepare. With Jude's faith in everyone, however... Pazkar gives the group a thumbs up, and while they cannot see it, there's hope under that armor. He moves forward, and then clicks something on his armor. An automated mechanical crossbow pops out, and as he approaches, it's pointed straight as the writhing tentacle mass. It fires, and the bolt, while a starting strike, hopefully can do at least a bit of damage. |
| Seifer Almasy | There aren't 'defenses' of the sort people might be familiar with. No block or guard shows up to defend Discordia from Arianrhod's attack. The crescent white crashes into the Discordia full-on. It smashes into the thing, and- -and there is absolutely no reaction. No numbers pop up. No tendrils are cut off. No bleeding. No twitching. No reaction at all. The developers of Last Illusion dreamed of a final, epic confrontation with the Evil God. They dreamed of a god waking. They dreamed a dream of fighting a divinity. And to that end, they twisted their own combat system on its head. They removed the damage numbers. You can't tell how much damage you're doing without some kind of fancy trickery. Finding that trickery might just be part of beating it. But unfortunately, it reacts just fine. Its hands form into a mandala pattern. Two fingers come together in front of it. No words appear, no attack name. The other hands move in another, different pattern, and then all of its fingers jut upwards at once, a cruel parody of human motion. The chaotic, nonsense landscape juts up into spikes all around Arianrhod. It hurts. It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts. Where it touches burns like being torn apart at a molecular level. Where it grabs starts to come undone, flesh turning to strings. This is not a game. If there was any doubt remaining, this is the last moment of it. This is not a game. This is real, and it is painful, and it hurts. The magic lasers and auto-crossbow shots from Arcadia, Pazkar, and Shyra rake across and stab into the horror. They splatter in incandescent lights. Bolts sink into divine flesh and disappear. They burn across the flesh of the god, such that it is, the rolling spiritual chaos, and the god rolls back. One of its upturned hands turns downwards. The nowhere-chaos sky twists. A blast of primordia comes pouring down all colors and shapes and spilling nonsense, and it sizzles with curses and poisons the likes of which have never been seen before nor will ever be again. It is corruption itself. It is chaos itself. It is unmaking in the form of a video game attack and it is so very unpleasant. Mordred and Arthur dive up into it. Mordred gets up against the flesh, driving her sword into it as hard as she can. Clarent digs into the body, confirming that, yes, it can be hurt - that it's nonreactive doesn't mean it's not *working*, it just means they can't see how much damage they're doing. There might be a visual indicator later, assuming they can't figure out how much health it has - or some way to read that. Arthur swats at it with all strength, divine force hammering against divine force, rocket-powered broom trying to clean up the mess that is this thing's existence. Its many, horrid eyes twist down to look at them. They shine. It is not lasers but unmaking that pours out of its eyes. What once was a god of stability and certainty fires nonsense and nothingness. Arthur knows it as the stuff of the beginning and the end, the formlessness to which all things must go. This is the final boss. This is the fifth god. This, which once held existence together as its lynchpin. This nightmare. |
| Pazkar | Discordia is terrifying. But Pazkar has an advantage that makes it easier to deal with. He's fought it before. As the blast comes down, his thrusters on his armor fire up, pushing him backwards. He's glanced by the blast anyways, however, which tears through his armor. His armor starts to repair itself immediately back to normal, besides some clear mars and dents and poisons on it, and the toxins are making him slower to react, but... The thrusters fire up again, and Pazkar's moving forward. He boosts at Discordia, as a pair of rotary saws slide out of his armor. They start moving super fast, and move to try and slice into the god and do exceptional damage already, lots of little hits and lingering strikes. Give it everything you've got! He's finally spoken. He won't let Discordia win. |
| Shyra | The attack is overwhelming, but not unfamiliar. She remembers the touch of Discordia, so long ago. She fights alongside Pazkar, her loyal and mighty friend. But this time, the Hero is not here, nor is their remaining ally. No, instead there is the multitude of the Multiverse, a riotous blend of power and personality, each unique and /alive/. It will be enough. The power crushes into her barriers, seething through them and shearing her for a significant amount of damage. However, she lives. Shyra remains standing, waves of healing force pulsing through the battlefield to try to mitigate the damage as is her purpose. She is part of the anchor. Don't give up, everyone! We will hold out! There is another rush of energy as Shyra draws on her SP. This isn't a mortal being. This is a terrifying immortal horror. This she can fight without fear or regret. The light blazes brighter, Shyra tapping into greater energies in order to shear a long, blazing beam across the form of Discordia, a more potent form of her holy attacks being brought to bear. |
| Mordred | "Ideas, ideas... Quit freaking out and just focus on beating its ass in!" Mordred shouts towards Shyra and Arthur in a vague sort of belligerent encouragement, slicing and dicing through the mass which has nothing resembling anything she's really seen before. "It doesn't matter how scared you are if it's dead and you're alive at the end of the day, so just focus on killing it now and wash your pants later!" Bracing Clarent in front of her, Mordred chuckles beneath her helmet. "Always works out for me, anyway." She doesn't even flinch as Discordia begins its attack on the group assembled to oppose it, its baleful multi-eyed gaze shining down upon several of them at once. Not quite understanding where the attack is coming from, Mordred opts to just rush forward again, relying both on her armor and speed to weather the gnawing feeling at the back of her neck, the gut-wrenching feeling somehow pulsing through her limbs, and the lightheadedness already starting to seep in. The armor already shows cracks and gaps seeping through, but there's no blood. The blood itself isn't even allowed to exist. Still, Mordred is undaunted. She keeps charging onwards, the two-handed blade flashing back and forth in rapid cuts as Mordred focuses on cleaving into Discordia, trying to find whatever even counts as its core! |
| Arianrhod | As Arianrhod makes her approach towards Discordia she watches as her attack strikes. And the attacks from the others. It's hard to tell how much progress they're making. Though for someone like Arianrhod, who is not used to relying on the damage numbers this world has provided in the past, she doesn't find that surprising. This is a god. They should be so lucky that they're doing any harm to it at all. Discordia retaliates, Arianrhod suddenly finding herself walking through a minefield of distorted reality. As the spikes strike her armor, it begins to come apart at the point of impact. Even her armor cannot withstand the power of Discordia. Arianrhod grunts, "Caution, everyone. This god's power unmakes us." But Arianrhod does not allow the god to pressure her without resistance. The armored warrior raises her lance up, spinning it around in her hand. It glows and she drives it down into the 'ground'. A shockwave of light rushes out in all directions, trying to destroy the reality spikes, while also reaching out towards Discordia itself. |
| Arcadia | Even as she's firing Arcadia's visor flickers back and forth, trying to get a read on the miasma of chaotic everything and nothingness. But the swirling mass of tentacles, eyes and vagely hand-like protrusions isn't registering in the ways she's accustomed to. Entire readouts flash in and out, like the thing doesn't have a registable existance to properly lock out. And then it attacks. Arcadia lunges skyward as the boss unleashes its fury, it's strike exploding in her wake. The chaotic confluence nips and burns at her heels, and some of her thrusters start to sputter erratically as energies universes different conflict with each other. Wings spread to stabilize herself in the air, and Arcadia refocues on the behemoth of a boss before them. It's not even really a thing, is it? More like a Force of Nature. But the thing was big, so even without being able to ping a weak point yet she can still make advantage of it. Some of the magitek bits deploy from her back, spreading out to her sides three apiece in formation. Multiple angles, hit from multiple directions at once. This wasn't her world but it was a fight on terms she was familiar with, if not the level of the stakes. The sphinx's eyes narrow behind her visor, and she points at the horror of beyond understanding. "Jet Scream!" The bits open fire, blasting out surges of air magic at such speed and force that they produce a distorted wail, thus their punderful name. |
| Arthur Lowell | Arthur shifts. He folds through space, disaligning and trying to step out of the way of sight in an extra dimension. It only barely works, blasting still leaving him seared.He knows, he can tell what this is. It's familiar to him in a way that things haven't been familiar in a long, long time. He recognizes the nature of the influence: Void aspect. Beginnings and endings. Formlessness. Hidden things. "AAAAAARGH!" He cries out, wincing back and tumbling. This is too familiar to him. A name bubbles back up into his mind that he hasn't thought about in untold eternities. Clenching his teeth and sucking in his breath, he tries to refocus. Try to understand. Work through the Void. Solve its puzzles. There's a riddle here, and he has to answer it. But how can he, when it won't even ask? Look closer. -------------------------- | | | THRUSTER MODES | | | | [ ] DASH | -------------------------- | [ ] CRUISE | | | | [ ] CHARGE | | [X] POSITRON THRUST | | [ ] SPRINT | | | | [ ] ESCAPE VELOCITY | -------------------------- | [ ] UNSTOPPABLE FORCE | | [X] PLAID | | [ ] UP A GODDAMN NOTCH | | [ ] LET'S DO THIS SHIT | -------------------------- Arthur kicks towards it at massive speed. His starlight takes on exotic colors, shining lights and deep hues of strange distant celestial phenomena. Pazkar has closed, and Mordred stays near, but Arthur moves up along them and tries to move even further in. Arthur intends to practically press his face up against it. How detailed is this? How intricate? How much was put into it? What does a close, intense analysis reveal -- and how deep does that rabbit hole go? Arthur surges into the blast of the eyes, hoping desperately that Shyra's barriers will blunt them a little more, and tries to plunge himself as an entire projectile as close as he can get to the body of the beast and just press further in. |
| Seifer Almasy | Pazkar swings in with rocket saws. They grind against the flesh of the god, death by a thousand cuts in action. They hum and growl and whirr against the spiritual form of the destructive creature, pushing against everything it is. Again, there's no real reaction, but Pazkar *knows* he's doing damage. He can feel it in the impact as the saws start digging in - even if the flesh is unbroken the damage is *being done*. It's *mattering*. It all matters. Little by little, it all builds up. Shyra brings down the light. The light she once brought to bear upon it before. The greater energies burn furiously as they come down from nowhere. It is indeed a horror of immortality, a thing that should not be, that should not exist, that is not SUPPOSED to exist. It is a nightmare incarnate, a horror in the spiritual flesh. As the lasers hammer down upon it, it actually bends down slightly, the first real reaction it's had to anything. Damage...it's damage. Hope. The shockwave of light from Arianrhod ripples across the field of pure kaos, across the sea of potentia. It smashes against Discordia, and again, it bends slightly, an acknowledgment. They are most definitely hurting it. This is redoubled when Arcadia's lasers hammer into it with the light, and it actually punches holes through the thing. Sure, the holes close up a moment later - but it *can* take damage. That's...really good to know. Sort of. Arthur slams inside it. He punches right into the massive form, amidst the mass of tentacles, and the world is yellow and pain and hurt and nothingness and potential and undoing and hurt. It's mandalas all the way down. It's all mandalas and symbols and shapes in the shape of code. The eyes that are on top are mirrored here and- -and the party is fighting inside it and Arthur can see them standing below him and firing on Discordia and- And this whole space is Discordia. This is just the physical manifestation. The whole arena is Discordia. Only Discordia can be here as an NPC. This whole arena is flagged as DISCORDIA and so is the boss and- -and that's- And it's a genius loci. Once you pass through the mandalas of code and the whirling Vedic symbols of 1s and 0s it's just back in the boss room again. And as Arthur emerges, Discordia's hands come up and begin to move in a slow and horrifying pattern. All of its hands, all of its tentacles, draw symbols in the air, like a hideous spellcaster. All the symbols come alive. What pours out of it is death. Literally. It's a Death spell. The kind that never works for the player in a JRPG. The kind that *always* works for the boss. Oh God. And this one comes with an extra dose of pain, because everything this thing does seems to be some kind of fundamental pain, some twisting of reality, some ability to break the rules of the world. |
| Arthur Lowell | In the event of hardware constraints, the first thing one must do is limit memory consumption. Arthur comes out in great pain. His eyes are filled with brilliant white light, flashing quickly in alternating colors with a shimmering black. He's screaming with a sense of mental overload. He sees and understands Space. He sees and understands Discordia, the way one is not meant to; his mind processes geometries, and a god is not meant to be that. In the event of hardware constraints, the first thing one must do is limit memory consumption. Arthur's hands slam over his eyes. No more. No more. The death spell comes down. Arthur's AMPOULE OF LESSER KARNA KAVACHA breaks, preventing instant death. It doesn't prevent a vulnerable man from suffering the massive damage of a DEATH (V) spell head-on. He's blasted so hard that he goes limp and is tossed bodily. It's too much. It's too much for him. When working with space and reality, one can't get /creative/. It's only when you put the aesthetics before the substance that you can justify this kind of behavior. In the event of hardware constraints, the first thing one must do is limit memory consumption. Creativity exceeds practicality. Reaching beyond one's grasp is-- there is a memory that surges inside Arthur's palm plants onto the ground. He begins to struggle upright. |
| Pazkar | The unmaking death spell comes from the symbols, and impacts with Pazkar. He reels backwards, killed instantly. The death spell procs. Except. There's something wrong with his health bar. Flickering back into space next to where he was, his visible health bar is at halfway, with a notch next to it. He's slower, weaker, injured, but not dead. But another big hit...and he'll have to retreat. Pazkar decides to do something insane. He grabs his wrench, Moleknar, and launches forward. He flies into the air, and faces down Discordia. And then... The wrench is struck overhead, blurring with lightning. It moves to smash hard into the Evil God, and hopefully do as much damage as possible. It won't kill it. But maybe it can give these other heroes the chance to do so, before what comes next. |
| Arianrhod | Death comes for all. This is something that Arianrhod's armor cannot help her with. The spell is unleashed and they all feel the affects. A pained cry echoes from within Arianrhod's helmet as she falls down to one knee. She struggles against the unseen force as it tries to take her life from her. But she is not ready to succumb to the end. Arianrhod groans from pain and effort, shaking as she tries to return to standing. She still has a task to complete, before she can rest. Goals to accomplish, that she is unwilling to see unfulfilled. And right now, killing this god is one of those goals. Arianrhod returns to standing. Arianrhod raises her lance up vertical in front of her, moving her other hand to grip it with both. She takes in a deep breathe, concentrating. An aura begins to flare up around the lance, growing in strength as Arianrhod focuses. |
| Mordred | Death comes too quickly for Mordred to understand just what it is that's coming for her. For all of them. There's nowhere to run, and Mordred does the only thing she knows: She advances. It worked the first time to weave through the worst of Discordia's unmaking gaze, so why not this one as well? The calculated risk doesn't quite pay off as Mordred is summarily blasted right off her feet, the utter destruction leaving her flat on her back for a fair amount of time. Her armor is cracked in multiple places. One of the gauntlets has been shorn off or simply wiped out of existence. The two-horned helmet is now one-horned, and half of the jaw is missing. It takes quite a bit of effort just for Mordred to get back up, Clarent still clutched tightly in one hand as she gets a better look at the scope of the destruction that Discordia has caused. It's actually kind of hard to tell what's damage and what's ceased to be. Or, rather, what is and isn't Discordia. The sheer scope of the damage and the pain racking her body actually cataches her off guard. All at once, all the what ifs start coming to the forefront of her mind. What if they fail here? What if there isn't a reset at the end? What if they aren't allowed to die? What if she isn't strong enough? It takes her several moments to realize that they're not only fighting Discordia, but fighting IN Discordia. It takes several more moments for Mordred to do anything else at all, and the Servant starts to laugh. It's not a pleasant laugh. "Here I was, getting worried I'd-" Mordred stumbles briefly as she nearly topples onto Clarent, noticing that even one of her greaves has been scattered to the winds or whatever qualifies as wind inside the Evil God. "... That I'd never get a chance to show off what I can really do before the end of all this, but here we are." Mordred starts laughing again, her armor dissipating steadily in a golden mist and clashing heavily with the red lightning crackling around her silver blade. Raising Clarent over her head, Mordred grips it tightly with both hands as her gaze is focused solely on the Evil God The blade is quickly engulfed in a crimson energym lightning swirling around it as Mordred's gaze borders on madness. "This is the evil sword that destroyed my father... Clarent Blood Arthur!" She screams out the name of her most powerful attack as she swings that blade down, a massive beam of focused rage pouring forward towards Discordia Although the surge of energy is straightforward enough at a glance, it is anything but as it threatens to obliterate the main body of Discordia in front of her as well as the surrounding Discordia behind her primary target! |
| Arcadia | It's taking damage. There is no readout, neither the numbers blipping in the air or to the sensory enchantments to her visor, but the visible holes as brief as they are is a sign -something- is being done to the abomination. Arcadia will take whatever she can get considering the situation. A situation that is going to get a lot worse. She reconizes the movements of spell casting, even if she doesn't require them herself because of magitek. Seeing so many at once like that, however is not at all reassuring in the least. The sphinx's first reaction is to lean back and engage boosters, putting some distance between herself and Discordia, calling her bits back in to herself. She restabilizes, and waits. Discordia unleashes her unending unmaking hell in a maelstorm of infinite entropies roaring across the arena. Engines ignite at the same time and Arcadia explodes into motion once more, launching herself -directly into- the assault, thrusting forward her arms and folding up her wings. The two forces collide, every ward her enchanted armor has activating against the tremendous force. It illuminates within the onslaught as layers of energy are burned away and shatter. It starts burning into Arcadia herself, armor glowing and technorganic skin blistering.... And then she erupts out of the Death storm, form smoking but functional. By some insane bullet-hell logic she actually took LESS damage divebombing directly into the attack, minimizing how long she was exposed to it.... And she's still going. Right towards Discordia. And there is a emassing sphere of Fire and Air magic surging between her outstretched hands. "(THERMOBARIC BUSTER!" ... But the ball of air heated to the point of explosive force isn't fired as normal. Not when Arcadia is using her insane speed to almost literally -shove- it into Discordia's noexistant face, not letting go until the last possible moment. If you're gonna go to Hell, drink it up you might as well. |
| Shyra | She cleaves into the mighty form of Chaos, and it flinches. This is good. We're doing it! We're winning! We're- A moment later, the retaliation comes. The intense, overwhelming force of Death itself, crashing down upon Shyra, upon everyone. NO! She moves quickly, withdrawing the AMPOULE OF LESSER KARNA KAVACHA that she, too, was provided, and she shatters it. The energy of the Five Relics swirls around her... But she doesn't stop there. It flows into her barrier magic, creating an incandescent mandala-shaped field around her. A moment later, she is swallowed by darkness, the infinite abyss, eternal and unending. All goes silent... A tiny star blazes in the night, a crackling sound of glass as energy is released. The night is blasted backwards, being hurled back by a growing tidal wave of interconnected lines and energies. Shyra stands in the middle, the rainbow flames roiling around her. She immediately resumed the bombardment of light beams, sending it sizzling through the void to carve into the form of the God once more. Even as the overwhelming power surges, crashing down upon her allies, she does her best to mitigate the deadly damage being wrought. We have to stand. We have to fight. Believe, everyone! We can't lose hope... We will survive this! |
| Arthur Lowell | Arthur slams his broom into the ground, and struggles onto his feet by leaning on it. He gets to his feet, and with one more hefty surge of motion, he slams the broom, bristles-first, into the ground, digging it in so it stays in place. He clasps both hands around it. Something is happening. "Been a long time since I saw something like you." He says, softly. "Been an eternity since Fi'... But I never forget it. I didn't forget it then. And you... I won't forget you either. If I live through this... I'll never forget you. That's a promise." ------------------------------------------------- | | | ACTIVE | DANGER | CRITICAL | | ---------- | ------------ | ------------------- | | | | | | ********** | ************ | ******************* | | | | | ------------------------------------------------- A code is typed into an interface of sorts, authorizing the highest levels of power that the King Broom System can conduct. Arthur surges his Aspect, rallying huge volumes of magic and pouring them into the King Broom System. He needs cover while he does; he's dumping so much power into this thing that just the shockwaves threaten to obliterate volumes of HP. No screaming, not yet. He's charging... preparing. For something significant. "I know you can't understand me. But still, still... I've got something worth saying, if you'll hear it." |
| Seifer Almasy | The lightning wrench hits the nightmare god in the side. It moves, again. It's another visible indicator, as lightning roars through it, that damage is being done. That it's getting knocked aside. That it's getting hurt. It's massive, but it's massive in a way that it can still be moved, because it still has to be *physical*. It's not like Ayudha Raksha - it's not unfinished. This was probably the first part of the dream that made this world - the first piece of concept art was probably of Linehart, standing in front of Discordia as four shadows move towards it. Certainly it was the first piece of promotional art - a poster that would never see the light of day. Hundreds of posters and magazine ads stacks in a closed office that would never go anywhere. A dream destroyed. And now it's brought to life. And, in a way, they're going to kill it again. Arianrhod brings her glowing lance around to stab into it a bunch, dealing it enough damage to distract it. She distracts it from the gathering power of both Mordred and Arcadia, and it's to their benefit for sure - it gives them enough time. Enough time to act. Clarent Blood Arthur surges through the arena, splitting aside the roiling primordia to reveal more nothingness and kaos beneath as she fires. The rage punches through it, carving into it, carving a massive gash in its side. Then the explosive, high-speed force of the Thermobaric Buster crashes into the gash and tears off a whole chunk of its body with an enormous eruption, sending half of the body spiralling away and the other half falling into the arena. It kicks up a wave of primordia as it sinks like a boat into the sea. Shyra's bombardment holds it down against the ground as the shockwaves of Arthur ripple outwards, smashing against it, smashing into it, smashing the arena. And it lets out an unearthly cry, a scratching on a record, a broken noise. The body breaks, disappearing into the primordia. It's- -not over. MULADHARA: THE ROOT OF EXISTENCE. A four-petaled red lotus bursts into bloom beneath them, spilling corrupted mud from its center. SVADHISHTHANA: WHERE THE SELF IS ESTABLISHED On one wall, a lotus with a crescent moon blooms, spreading tendrils across the primordial chaos. MANIPURA: JEWEL CITY A fire in the middle of a ten-petal yellow lotus emerges from another wall. ANAHATA: UNSTRUCK A hexagram in the middle of a green lotus, whirling with air, on another wall. VISHUDDHA: PUREST Sixteen petals. Arthur can feel a profound discomfort at the distortion of SPACE above it, the twisting, miniature black hole that forms. AJNA: COMMAND At the top, a two-part black flower like a single eye, gazing down on them, a down-pointed triangle in the middle. SAHASRARA: THOUSAND-PETALED And in the center, in the midst of them all, the seventh chakra opens. A thousand-fold petals of pink. The Crown Chakra. The Four States of the Four Noble Truths. It is a scintillant rainbow. The lotuses around it glitter. Lights begin pouring out of every piece of it, criss-crossing the battlefield. Just touching them burns, but that's not the problem. All the lights are pointing into the SAHASRARA. It's gathering power. Oh no. |
| Arthur Lowell | Arthur holds onto the broom. Both hands, tight together. The broom has finished charging. Arthur's eyes snap open. Eyes shine like two stars planted in a skull. His body burns, from outside and from inside. He takes a deep, heavy breath. He lets a feeling of familiarity, of Void, wash over him. It's been a while. "I'm going to tell you what it means." He says. "To be a Hero of this world. I'd forgotten some things about it. So thank you, to you, and your makers." "Thank you." He lifts the broom from the ground and looks up into the eye. |
| Arianrhod | Arianrhod is still standing there, her lance glowing brighter as the the corrupted mud spreads across the ground, engulfing her armored boots. Arianrhod doesn't budge as more petals begin to emerge. Tendrils reach out, some wrapping around her legs. A singularity forms above them, Arianrhod's hair and cloak getting whipped up by the distortion. Beams of light begin to divide the field, one of them scorching past Arianrhod and catching her in the arm. The armored warrior barely flinches though as her armor begins to melt under the intense heat. Finally, as all that powers begins to gather, Arianrhod moves a foot back, breaking it free of the tendrils. She turns her body, shifting her lance into one hand once more and bringing it around behind and above her, the weapon glowing so brightly its features can barely be seen. Arianrhod rears back and then brings her weapon forward. Fast. She releases her grip, throwing it. The lance leaves her hand at incredible speed, blasting through the air so fast it is nothing but a trail of light as it streaks towards the center of that gathering power. The SAHASRARA. |
| Mordred | At first, it looks like Discordia has been defeated. Mordred chuckles confidently, although she doesn't have much time to celebrate. It turns out that even after all of that, Discordia continues to stand. Or float. Exist. That's all Mordred can sorto ut about the Evil God as it refuses to die, and she laughs again despite having drained so much of her reserves unleashing that blast of raw anger. It's actually mildly invigorating. "Figured you would've survived somethin' like that... Still gonna be a pain in our asses even now, huh?" The Knight of Treachery spits out some blood as she braces Clarent in front of her, stepping through the lights sweeping around the now brightened battlefield as they burn her flesh. Wincing at the burns, Mordred's fighting on the back foot at the moment as she doesn't immediately charge back into the fray like before. She's winded. She needs a moment. She raises an eyebrow as Arthur speaks at the Evil God, not quite getting... Well, any of that, but she doesn't interrupt. Instead, Mordred focuses on what's happening. The lotuses are gathering energy into the center flower, and that central flower becomes Mordred's new target. That's when she charges back in. Rather than stopping at just slashing at it wildly, though, she adopts a more defensive method, weaving in and out to keep those other flowers' lights within her field of view even as she tries to tear that central piece apart. |
| Arcadia | That maneuver took a lot out of Arcadia and it shows. The vectors of her wings and the crystal foci intergrated in her armor aren't glowing nearly as brightly as usual. But the risk was worth it. Getting to literally shove one of her firebombs into the boss's form was a rush she did not get to experience very often. At least not at this level. Despite the dip in arcane energies her equivilent to adrenaline was running as hot as ever. The Final Boss isn't down yet though, as it shifts to another form. Flowers sprouting everywhere would of been even more weird if Arthur hadn't pointed out the whole damn arena was Discordia and they were just fighting a manifestation of it's entity within the location. It's weird stuff, but the sort of stuff she's not the kind to sit and puzzle over. That's for the eggheads back home to do after the fact. Various energies spew out of different floral formations. Despite being wore down Arcadia isn't out of motion, using her superior speed and mobility to weave her way around the various tendrils lashing out while others spiral down into where the boss' manifestation sunk away. "It's trying to charge itself back up!" She herself needs a chance to do the same, but this was one of those times it was good not to be completely organic. As she's zigzagging around the arena fiery sparks start to crackle and flare around her, highlighting the sphinx's movements as she bobs and swerves before finally rising out of the twisting tendrils. As she rises up Arcadia does a rapid spin, holding her arms at an angle from her sides with the twisting motion to spew off multiple fire bolts sweeping arcs across the arena below her in proper danmaku fashion, aimed at trying to disrupt some of those tendrils flowing into the central formation. |
| Pazkar | Pazkar's strike isn't enough. As the Crown Chakra reveals itself, he grits his teeth under the armor, he realizes the impending death cannon, and as the energy bleeds through his armor, he has to decide. What will he do here? He'll try and do another hit. He generates a strange clunky gun out of his armor, points it up, mounted to his wrist, and it crackles with electricity. He fires it straight at Discordia... And hopefully, it'll help stem the tide, contribute to the rest. |
| Shyra | They all strike together, cleaving into Discordia. Working to break it, to destroy it. To pin it down so it can be divided just as it was before. And they succeed... In a manner of speaking. But not the way that she might have hoped. The emergence of the new strange lotus flowers that begin manifesting terrible, intense powers is new to her. This isn't the way it happened last time... And Shyra begins telling people this. This is not what's supposed to be happening. Why is the Evil God dividing without being cut apart? We need to stop them! The surging energies blast at Shyra, the brilliant interlocking lines forcing her back. She sees the power gathering there. It's something that needs to be stopped. We need to break them apart! We need to stop the energy flow! The group is on their last legs, but there isn't time to spend energy on healing anymore. Every iota of their power has to be marshalled. If the thouand-petalled flower strikes, it will quite possibly destroy them all. Arthur calls out, pointing out that the entire room is the Evil God. The entire space. It is all. It is its own world, which is why they are playing by its rules. Shyra bows her head. From somewhere beyond the void, a light begins to shine down. Thank you. All of you who have come to fight at our side. All of you who have bled and thought and fought for us. All of you are true heroes. We will fight. We will give everything we have. We will write a new story.... For our dreams. For those we have lost. For the future we are trying to create. There is a flare of light. For the healing of this world! BANISH There is a massive detonation of seething, holy energy that radiates outwards, a tiny sun of holy power that rolls outwards over the flowers, attempting to wipe the chaotic formation out in an all-consuming wash. |
| Arthur Lowell | Arthur rises from the ground. His eyes are wide, his breathing pained, but he's full of determination. Of a much different sort than usual. Something he has not felt in eternities, but forgot, long ago. Something once taught to him by Fiora O'Brien, and felt again through Void. Something deeper here, that does not need to be acknowledge, but which grants power in its acknowledgment. He feels the appreciation for the work of those who made this. "You are beautiful, Discordia! A finale worth the journey of any hero!!" |
| Arthur Lowell | Arthur raises his broom. "YOUR WINGS! BEAUTIFUL LIMBS TO HOLD ALOFT A LIVING GOD, CRAFTED WITH THE WILL THAT KNOWS THIS WORLD WOULD NOT EXIST WITHOUT IT!" The lance goes out. A massive blast. Arthur levels the broom forward -- and along the path of Arianrhod's lance, a massive array of MAGICAL SPELLCIRCLES form, intent on surging it forward as fast as he can, accelerating to lightspeed and beyond with raw spatial warping and gravitational force to enhance the strike. When the light has dispersed, those MAGICAL SPELLCIRCLES dissolve as well, free motes drifting in the armosphere, something that can collect in the chamber of Pazkar's electrical gun, overcharging it to significant volumes of damage. "YOUR LIGHT! A DAZZLING STAR TO GUIDE THE HERO TO A JOYFUL CONCLUSION THAT MAKES ANY JOURNEY TO IT WORTH IT" |
| Arthur Lowell | "YOUR HANDS! GREAT FORCE AND STRENGTH TO DRIVE WHOLE TIMELINES! POWER UNCONTROLLABLE, EVEN SEALED!" Only some reaches Shyra. Soon, more. The detonation goes, and Arthur grasps its power. It is a holy sun, and Arthur is a Mage of Space. He fills it with more light and with more holy power, trying to make it lash out with shining flares like the surface of a sun. Each flare carries with it Gate energy -- and Arthur rides it. Joining Arcadia, he moves in melee while she strikes at range, rocketing around her, with her, in twisting formations behind her at unthinkable levels of agility and force, with his blender-broom churning with force enough to annihilate. "YOUR HEARTS! BLOSSOMING DIVINELY, SHOWING THE BEAUTY WITHIN A GOD OF THIS REALM, AT THE HEIGHTS OF THEIR WILL TO SMITE!" |
| Arthur Lowell | "YOUR VOICE! UNCONSTRAINED BY THE CRUSHING GRAVITY OF YOUR REALM, SINGING A SONG AND A SOUND SO FAR BEYOND YOUR NATURE!" He closes in. Rocketing hard, he joins Mordred, swirling in a deadly whorl of blades and buzzing so fast and so deadly that the man himself could be mistaken for a blender. What he strikes could be rendered down at the atomic level. He is annihilating all he can. He is running out of Juice. But not yet done. "YOUR EYES! PIERCING ALL! SEEING ALL! AND IN SPITE OF SEALS AND TIME, TAKING ACTION TO SHOW BEAUTIFUL CRAFTSMANSHIP, EVEN OBFUSCATED IN VOID!" |
| Arthur Lowell | "YOUR THOUGHTS! WHOLENESS! ONENESS! A MIND AS A TEST, MADE IN LOVE OF THE PLAYER -- IN LOVE OF THE HERO BEYOND YOUR UNDERSTANDING!" Arthur cries out. He surges as fast as he can towards that core, that Crown Chakra, towards that great and most noble truth of all: All for the reader, the audience, the consumer, all out of passion, of love, of deep and profound willingness to sacrifice what little time we have on this Earth for art to be taken into the hungry mouths of "heroes" or "players" or "readers" or "viewers", those capricious gods of judgment. "I'LL SHOW YOU WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A TRUE HERO! A HERO WILL SEE AND LOVE EVERY PART OF WHAT YOU ARE -- THE BEAUTY OF AN ENDING AND A BEGINNING! A GREAT WORK MADE FOR LOVE OF A MEAGER 'HERO', WHO WOULD DO NOTHING BUT CONSUME IT! PASSION, CREATIVITY, A WORLD IN A MIND THAT BEGGED TO BECOME REAL!" Arthur reaches for the hilt of his broom. He pulls something out; a sword, hidden in its length. The King Blade, a space-warping monster of metal that can slash at a size far, far beyond its simpler appearance, wrought eternities ago. The sword of a Hero. |
| Arthur Lowell | ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- | KING BROOM SYSTEM | | | SETTINGS AND FUNCTION | [X] POSITRON THRUST | | | | | | ------------------------ | | ,gM00@M~' | | | _g000~ | [ ] PURGE TO NEXT | | p000' | ROCKET STAGE | | p00P | | | _f j00F _pg00000&g_ | ------------------------ | | _# 000 p000000000000&, | | | 0f 008 0000@~` ~M00& | [X] BLACK PROTOCOL | | j0 j00f 000~ ~M& | | | 00 J00f j0F "& | ------------------------ | | 00c 00f 40 __ ^Y | | | 00& #00 4f _p00000&g ^ | THRUSTER MODES | | #00 #0& 4I g0M~~~M0000g | | | 000 "00g # #^ "0000g | [ ] DASH | | "000, `~@*-|ag, "000g | [ ] CRUISE | | "000&, p'l ~0&g ^000 | [ ] CHARGE | | M000&g,_,gg0' J6 M0& 00& | [ ] SPRINT | | ^M000000M~ 4# #0& 400 | [ ] ESCAPE VELOCITY | | ` `~` #0 00f 00 | [ ] UNSTOPPABLE FORCE | | #, j08 00& 00 | [ ] PLAID | | 0g _g00' 00& 08 | [ ] UP A GODDAMN NOTCH | | M0p,_ _gM000' j00f 0 | [X] LET'S DO THIS SHIT | | "00000MM000000@ #00 j' | | | "M0000000@~ j00F ! | ------------------------ | | `` p000 ' | | | _g00@ | BLENDER MODES | | ,g000' | | | .qgM00MP^ | [ ] STIR | | | [ ] CHOP | | | [ ] MIX | | | [ ] PUREE | | | [ ] LIQUIFY | | WARP RELEASE CODES | [ ] CRUSH ICE | | ----------------------------------------------- | [ ] CRUSH BONES | | ACTIVE | DANGER | CRITICAL | [ ] RIP/TEAR | | ---------- | ------------ | ------------------- | [ ] ATOMIC DISASSEMBLY | | | | | [ ] ANNIHILATION | | ********** | ************ | ******************* | [X] LET'S END THIS SHIT | | | | | | ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- "NOW, DISCORDIA!! SHOW ME THE BEAUTY OF YOUR EEEEEEEEEEEND!!!" He stabs, screaming. |
| Seifer Almasy | Arthur screams his declaration. Arianrhod hurls her lance, and Arthur's spellcircles burst, accelerating it hard enough to tear straight through the flower and straight through the primordia and straight back past everyone again and again. It's a lightspeed loop, and it keeps going and going and going, ever-accelerating, ever piercing three flowers at once. It's matched by Shyra's enormous blast, a powerhouse of banishing light, all her SP and all the power Arthur can amplify into it, which hits the ground like a nuclear flame, a physical force of destruction that pours light throughout the arena. The electric thunder of Pazkar's gun is a physical clap that arcs across four of the seven chakras, an eruption of lightning that fills the room and cracks the primordia, dancing through the elemental kaos like dragons. Mordred's blade goes like a buzzsaw, a whirling, murderous buzzsaw alongside Arthur's pass, faster and faster and faster and faster, ever-faster, ever-faster. Arthur whirls around the room to aid Arcadia's danmaku, sweeping aside any defensive petals that spawn so she has a clearer shot, hammering against the walls with his magic broom as fast as he can. Arcadia's danmaku builds to hit all seven of the flowers, all seven of the chakras, blasting away with as much force as she can muster. It's a lot of force. It's a lot of blasts. And, at the end, a sword. The King Blade. It stabs straight into the Crown Chakra. There is a noise like the world cracking. The whole room breaks. Primordia splits straight down the middle. The flowers split straight down the middle. The whole thing is cleaved in half, as it is meant to be, as it is always meant to be. Another cut spreads across the other angle, bisecting the Crown, the Lotus, and the Third Eye Chakras once again. The flowers are cut clean through. The world goes white. The world goes white. The world cracks. There's one last gasp. One last strike. One last furious eruption. That final attack. That final attack that makes the world come undone, that final moment, the last and only thing that could come from a sevenfold chakra god at the end of all things. GREAT BLISS The world crumbles to dust... |